Over in Farmer Goodman’s timber there was a great stir. Everybody was
busy. All summer the trees had been planning a picnic reception to be
given to the Month brothers and sisters when the hot weather had passed.
When it became noised around the whole neighborhood was delighted with
the thought. Everyone wanted to do what little he could to help things
along. Several dignified old owls, who had holes in the trees, promptly
offered to chaperone the party. The cat-tails along the brook just at
the edge of the timber promised to wear their prettiest head-dresses if
they would be allowed to wait on the door. The golden rod, purple asters
and other flowers along the road and the ferns, wahoo, sumac and their
companions agreed to outdo themselves in the effort to furnish
beautiful, tasty decorations.
The refreshments would cost nothing. The spring at the foot of the hill
offered to supply clear cool drinks for all, free of charge. They had an
abundance of wild grapes, wild cherries, pawpaws, red haws, hazel,
hickory and other nuts.
Prof. Wind was engaged to have his band there to furnish music for the
dancing.
As it was hoped to make this a long-to-be-remembered event, all summer
was spent in planning and preparation. Many were the happy hours passed
by the trees in discussing the styles and colors in which they were to
be decked. Whenever the band was practicing its new pieces for the
occasion the little leaves would dance and skip for joy.
The names of Mr. January Month and all his brothers and sisters,
February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October,
November, December were written on a sheet of paper. The list was handed
to a gay little squirrel, with a handsome tail and pretty stripes down
his back. He was then given instructions and sent to do the inviting. A
funny little hop-toad wished to go along. The squirrel said that he
would be pleased to have company, but he scampered around from place to
place as though he were going for a doctor for a dying child. As the
little hop-toad could not keep up, he came home crying.
Fancy the disappointment when the squirrel brought back word that pretty
Miss October Month was the only one who had accepted the kind
invitation. All said that they would be delighted to be there, that they
knew that it would be a very happy, jolly affair; but each month claimed
that having his own work to do without help he is kept so busy that he
has no time for roving and sport. After the trees and their friends had
so kindly made such great arrangements for their entertainment and
honor, the narrow-minded months were not grateful nor polite enough to
even try to manage their work so that they could get off for a day.
Perhaps they had forgotten that there is such a thing as fun and rest.
Poor Months! No wonder they die so early!
Every plan for a brilliant event had been made. Bright, amiable October
came. The day was sunny and warm, but not hot. Everyone did his part
according to agreement. The common yellow butterflies, some caterpillars
and other insects who had been in no hurry to disappear, were there.
Although many of the birds had left for their southern trip, there were
a number of catbirds, hermit thrushes, brown thrushes, phoebes, song
sparrows and others who furnished rare solos and grand choruses between
dances. The cowbirds and yellow-bellied sapsuckers who do not sing
wished to do something, too. The cowbirds offered to keep the flies and
other insects off of the victuals, and the sapsuckers agreed to give
tapping signals from their high places in the tall trees whenever a
change of program was to be announced.
A mischievous blue jay made a slight disturbance by trying to steal some
of the dinner before the table was set. When Mrs. Chipmunk tried to
drive him off, he showed fight, but in less than a minute such a crowd
had gathered to see what was the matter that he took flight in great
shame.
Everybody seemed to have fallen in love with Miss October. The affair
was such a success and the very air was filled with such good will and
jollity, that all begged and coaxed her to remain for a visit.
They had no trouble in arranging amusements for every day. Grandaddy
long legs danced several jigs. The crickets and the grasshoppers got up
a baseball game. When the baby show came off, Mrs. Quail took the prize
for the prettiest baby under a year. Mother Pig who had heard of it and
had broken out of Farmer Goodman’s pasture in order to bring the
plumpest of her litter, carried back the prize for the fattest baby.
Mrs. English Sparrow reported the largest number of broods raised. The
locusts and the katydids took part in a cake walk.
A great fat young grasshopper and a young robin entered a hopping race.
As they came out even there was trouble and prospects of hard feelings.
Three butterflies who were acting as judges decided to award the prize
to the grasshopper because he was smaller. This decision did not suit
the robin. In a fit of impatience he ended the matter by swallowing the
grasshopper—legs and all.
During the moonshiny nights Mr. Man-in-the-Moon took great pains to
furnish excellent light. On other nights the fireflies showed their
brightest lanterns.
Sometimes at night, white-robed Jack Frost would come and play kissing
games with the leaves who would then get happier, more radiant faces.
But he would box and wrestle with the nuts until their shells would
crack open. Then when they came to play tag or puss-wants-a-corner with
the leaves, as the little West Wind brothers frequently did, they, in
their rough sport, would knock the nuts out of their cosy shells upon
the ground, so that the children could pick them up. Merry times were
these!
In this way the sports were carried on for thirty-one days and nights.
By that time everyone, even Miss October herself, was tired out. The
fine dresses of the trees being the worse for wear, dropped, leaf by
leaf, and some of the trees were left nearly naked. The grasshoppers,
butterflies and caterpillars who could no longer keep their eyes open
had dropped into their winter’s sleep.
Except the meadow-larks, red winged blackbirds, robins, blue jays,
bluebirds and a few others the feathered tribes had been obliged to
leave. Some fox sparrows on their way to the south had stopped for a few
days; but they said that they could not stay until the festivities were
over.
Finally her mother, Mrs. Year, telegraphed to Miss October, who did not
know when her welcome was worn out, bidding her to make her adieux and
start home instantly. Being exhausted from sleepless days and nights she
was glad to leave.
After her departure, in the timber everything became quiet and still,
but the trees hoped that sometime in the future they might have another
picnic as delightful and jolly, and all felt satisfied and voted the
reception a perfect success.
Loveday Almira Nelson.
THE TREE SPARROW.
(_Spizella monticola._)
“I like to see them feasting on the seed stalks above the crust, and
hear their chorus of merry tinkling notes, like sparkling frost crystals
turned to music.”
—_Chapman._
One who loves birds cannot fail to be attracted by the sparrows and
especially by the Tree Sparrow, whose pert form is the subject of our
picture. This little bird comes to us in the Eastern United States in
September or October and remains throughout the winter. It is at this
time common or even abundant as far to the westward as the great plains,
and is rare farther west. It is a winter bird and breeds in the colder
latitudes north of the United States, where it builds its home of
grasses, shreds of bark and small roots interlaced with hair, not high
up in trees, as its name might indicate, but upon or near the ground.
Gentle and of a retiring disposition, they prefer the cultivated fields,
the meadows, the woods with their borders of shrubs or the trees of the
orchard. Such is their confidence, however, that they will even visit
the dooryards and prettily pick up the scattered crumbs or grain.
While tramping through a meadow in the early winter and before the snow
has disappeared or the frost has hardened and changed the surface of the
earth, the tramper may frequently disturb numbers of the sparrows.
Flying from the dried grass they will seem to come out of the ground.
Speaking of such an incident, Mr. Keyser says: “This unexpected behavior
led me to investigate, and I soon found that in many places there were
cozy apartments hollowed out under the long thick tufts of grass, with
neat entrances at one side like the door of an Eskimo hut. These hollows
gave ample evidence of having been occupied by the birds, so there could
be no doubt about their being bird bed-rooms.”
These little birds seem almost a part of one’s animal family, and a
companion in those regions where the snow covers the ground a part of
the year. They chirp and often sing quite gaily in the spring. They may
often be seen when the thermometer indicates a temperature below zero
and the snow is a foot or more in depth. Seemingly all that is required
to satisfy them is a plenty of weeds from which they may gather the
seeds. They are driven southerly only by a lack of a suitable food
supply. Often they may be found resting under clumps of tall grass or
vines on which the snow has gathered, forming a sort of roof over the
snug retreat. “Whether rendered careless by the cold or through a
natural heedlessness, they are very tame at such times; they sit
unconcernedly on the twigs, it may be but a few feet distant, chirping
cheerfully, with the plumage all loosened and puffy, making very pretty
roly-poly looking objects.”
A very pretty sight, and one that may frequently be seen, is a flock of
Tree Sparrows around some tall weed. Some of the birds will be actively
gathering seeds from the branches of the weed, while others will stand
upon the ground or snow and pick up those seeds that are dropped or
shaken off by their relatives above. While thus feeding there seems to
be a constant conversation. If we could but translate this sweet-voiced
chirping perhaps we should find that they are expressing to each other
the pleasure that the repast is giving them.
[Illustration: TREE SPARROW.
(Spizella monticola).
About Life-size.
FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.]
Their song is sweet and pleasing. They are not constant songsters, but
seem to be moved by some unseen spirit, for a flock will suddenly burst
out in a melody of song that is entrancing. He who has been favored with
such a concert is indeed fortunate. Their whole being seems to be
brought into action in the production of this song, which is “somewhat
crude and labored in technique, but the tones are very sweet indeed, not
soft and low but quite loud and clear. Quite often the song opens with
one or two long syllables and ends with a merry little trill having a
delightfully human intonation. There is, indeed, something innocent and
child-like about the voices of these sparrows.”
The Tree Sparrow is often called the Winter Chippy and is confounded
with the chipping sparrow, which it resembles. It is a larger bird and
carries a mark of identification by which it may be easily known. There
is on the grayish white breast a small black spot. Moreover, the Tree
Sparrow arrives in its winter range about the time that the chippy
retires to the Gulf States and Mexico.