THE ILL-ASSORTED BLACKBIRD FAMILY
Bobolink
Cowbird
Red-winged Blackbird
Rusty Blackbird
Meadowlark
Orchard Oriole
Baltimore Oriole
Purple and Bronzed Grackles
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BOBOLINK
_Called also: Reedbird; Ricebird; Ortolan; Maybird_
Such a rollicking, jolly singer is the bobolink! On a May morning,
when buttercups spangle the fresh grasses in the meadows, he rises
from their midst into the air with the merriest frolic of a song you
ever heard. Loud, clear, strong, full of queer kinks and twists that
could not possibly be written down in our musical scale, the rippling,
reckless music seems to keep his wings in motion as well as his
throat; for when it suddenly bursts forth, up he shoots into the air
like a skylark, and paddles himself along with just the tips of his
wings while it is the "mad music" that seemingly propels him:--then he
drops with his song into the grass again. Frequently he pours out his
hilarious melody while swaying on the slender stems of the grasses,
propped by the stiff, pointed feathers of his tail. A score or more of
bobolinks rising in some open meadow all day long, are worth
travelling miles to hear.
If you were to see the mate of one of these merry minstrels apart from
him, you might easily mistake her for another of those tiresome {138}
sparrows. A brown, streaked bird, with some buff and a few white
feathers, she shades into the colours of the ground as well as they
and covers her loose heap of twigs, leaves and grasses in the hay
field so harmoniously that few people ever find it or the clever
sitter.
As early as the Fourth of July, bobolinks begin to desert the choir,
being the first birds to leave us. Travelling southward by easy
stages, they feed on the wild rice in the marshes until, late in
August, enormous flocks reach the cultivated rice fields of South
Carolina and Georgia.
On the way, a great transformation has gradually taken place in the
male bobolink's dress. At the North he wore a black, buff and white
wedding garment, with the unique distinction of being lighter above
than below; but this he has exchanged, feather by feather, for a
striped, brown, sparrowy winter suit like his mate's and children's,
only with a little more buff about it.
In this inconspicuous dress the reedbirds, or ricebirds, as bobolinks
are usually called south of Mason and Dixon's line, descend in hordes
upon the rice plantations when the grain is in the milk, and do
several millions of dollars' worth of damage to the crop every year,
sad, sad to tell. Of course, the birds are snared, shot, poisoned. In
southern markets half {139} a dozen of them on a skewer may be bought,
plucked and ready for the oven, for fifty cents or less. Isn't this a
tragic fate to overtake our joyous songsters? Birds that have the
misfortune to like anything planted by man, pay a terribly heavy
penalty.
Such bobolinks as escape death, leave this country by way of Florida
and continue their four thousand mile journey to southern Brazil,
where they spend the winter; yet, nothing daunted by the tragedies in
the rice fields, they dare return to us by the same route in May. By
this time the males have made another complete change of feather to go
a-courting. Most birds are content to moult once a year, just after
nursery duties have ended; some, it is true, put on a partially new
suit in the following spring, retaining only their old wing and tail
feathers; but a very few, the bobolink, goldfinch, and scarlet tanager
among them, undergo as complete a change as Harlequin.
COWBIRD
This contemptible bird every child should know if for no better reason
than to despise it. You will see it alone or in small flocks walking
about the pastures after the cattle; or, in the {140} West, boldly
perching upon their backs to feed upon the insect parasites--a
pleasant visitor for the cows. So far, so good.
The male is a shining, greenish-black bird, smaller than a robin, with
a coffee-brown head and neck. His morals are awful, for he makes
violent love to any brownish-gray cowbird he fancies but mates with
none. What should be his song is a squeaking _kluck tse-e-e_, squeezed
out with difficulty, or a gurgle, like water being poured from a
bottle. When he goes a-wooing, he behaves ridiculously, parading with
spread wings and tail and acting as if he were violently nauseated in
the presence of the lady. Fancy a cousin of the musical bobolink
behaving so!
And nothing good can be said for the female cowbird. Shirking as she
does every motherly duty, she sneaks about the woods and thickets,
slyly watching her chance to lay an egg in the cradle of some other
bird, since she never makes a nest of her own. Thus she scatters her
prospective family throughout the neighbourhood. The yellow warbler,
who is a famous sufferer from her visits, sometimes outwits her, as we
have seen; but other warblers, less clever, the vireos, some sparrows,
and, more rarely, woodpeckers, flycatchers, orioles, thrushes and
wrens, seem to accept the unwelcome gift without a protest. If you
were a bird so imposed upon, wouldn't {141} you peck holes in that
egg, or roll it out of your nest, or build another cradle rather than
hatch a big, greedy interloper that would smother and starve your own
babies? Probably every cowbird you see has sacrificed the lives of at
least part of a brood of valuable, insectivorous songsters. Without
the least spark of gratitude in its cold heart, a young cowbird
grafter forsakes its over-kind foster parents as soon as it can pick
up its living and remains henceforth among its own kin--of whom only
cows could think well.
RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD
_Called also: Swamp Blackbird_
When you are looking for the first pussy willows in the frozen
marshes, or listening to the peeping of young frogs some day in early
spring, you will, no doubt, become acquainted with this handsome
blackbird, with red and orange epaulettes on his shoulders, who has
just returned, from the South. _''Ke, kong-ker-ee,''_ he flutes from
the willows and alders about the reedy meadows where he and his
bachelor friends flock together and make them ring "with social cheer
and jubilee." A little later, flocks of dingy, brown, streaked birds,
{142} travelling northward, pause to rest in the marshes. Wholesale
courting takes place shortly after and every red-wing in a black
uniform chooses one of the plain, streaked, matter-of-fact birds for
his mate. The remainder continue their unmaidenly journey in search of
husbands, whom they find waiting in cheerful readiness in almost any
marsh. By the first of May all have settled down to home life.
Then how constant are the rich, liquid, sweet _o-ka-lee_ notes of the
red-wing! Ever in foolish fear for the safety of his nest, he
advertises its whereabouts in musical headlines from the top of the
nearest tree, or circles around it on fluttering wings above the
sedges, or _chucks_ at any trespasser near it until one might easily
torture him by going straight to its site.
But how short-lived is this excessive devotion to his family! In July,
the restless young birds flock with the mothers, but the now
indifferent fathers keep apart by themselves. Strange conduct for such
fussy, solicitous birds! They congregate in large numbers where the
wild rice is ripening and make short excursions to the farmers'
fields, where they destroy some grain, it is true, but so little as
compared with the quantity of injurious insects and weed seed, that
the debt is largely in the red-wings' favour.
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RUSTY BLACKBIRD
_Called also: Thrush Blackbird_
This cousin of the red-wing, whom it resembles in size, flight and
notes, is a common migrant in the United States. Nesting is done
farther north. In spring, the rusty blackbirds come from the South in
pairs, already mated, whereas the red-wings and grackles travel then
in flocks. At that time the males are a uniform glossy, bluish-black,
and their mates a slate gray, darker above than below; but after the
summer moult, when they gather in small companies, both are decidedly
rusty. You might mistake them for grackles in the spring, but never
for male red-wings then with their bright epaulettes. Notice the rusty
blackbird's pale yellow eye.
MEADOWLARK
_Called also: Old-field Lark; Meadow Starling_
Every farmer's boy knows his father's friend, the meadowlark, the
brownish, mottled bird, larger than a robin, with a lovely yellow
breast and black crescent on it, that keeps well hidden in the grass
of the meadows or grain fields. Of course he knows, too, that it is
not really a lark, but a starling. When the shy bird takes wing, note
the white feathers on the {144} sides of its tail to be sure it is not
the big, brownish flicker, who wears a patch of white feathers on its
lower back, conspicuous as it flies. The meadowlark has the impolite
habit of turning its back upon one as if it thought its yellow breast
too beautiful for human eyes to gaze at. It flaps and sails through
the air much like bob-white. But flying is not its specialty. It is,
however, a strong-legged, active walker, and rarely rises from the
ground unless an intruder gets very near, when away it flies, with a
nasal, sputtered alarm note, to alight upon a fence rail or other low
perch.
The tender, sweet, plaintive, flute-like whistle,
_Spring-o'-the-year_, is a deliberate song usually given from some
favourite platform--a stump, a rock, a fence or a mound, to which the
bird goes for his musical performance only. He sings on and on
delightfully, not always the same song, for he has several in his
repertoire, and charms all listeners, although he cares to please none
but his mate, that looks just like him.
She keeps well concealed among the grasses where her grassy nest is
almost impossible to find, especially if it be partly arched over at
the top. No farmer who realises what an enormous number of
grasshoppers, not to mention other destructive insects, meadowlarks
destroy, is foolish enough to let his {145} mowing-machine pass over
their nests if he can but locate them. By the time the hay is ready
for cutting in June, the active meadowlark babies are usually running
about through grassy run-ways, but eggs of the second brood too
frequently, alas! meet a tragic end.
ORCHARD ORIOLE
Fortunately many other birds besides this oriole prefer to live in
orchards; otherwise think how many worm-eaten apples there would be!
He usually has the kingbird for company, and, strange to say, keeps on
friendly terms with that rather exclusive fellow; also the robin, the
bluebird, the cedar waxwing and several other feathered neighbours who
show a preference for fruit trees when it is time to nest. You may
know the orchard oriole's cradle by its excellent weaving. It is not a
deep, swinging pouch, like the Baltimore oriole's, but a well-rounded
cup, more like a vireo's, formed of grasses of nearly even length and
width, cut green and woven with far more skill and precision than a
basket made by a boy or a girl is apt to be. Look for it near the end
of a limb, ten to twenty feet up. It is by no means easily seen when
the green, grassy cup matches the colour of the leaves.
The mother oriole is so harmoniously dressed {146} in grayish olive
green, more yellowish underneath, that you may scarcely notice her as
she glides among the trees; but her mate is more conspicuous, however
quietly dressed in black and reddish chestnut--even somberly dressed
as compared with his flashy orange and black cousin, the Baltimore
oriole. Nevertheless, it takes him two, or possibly three years to
attain his fine clothes. By that time his song is rich, sweet and
strong.
Do orioles generally take special delight in the music of a piano? An
orchard oriole who used to come close to our house to feed on the
basket worms dangling from a tamarix bush, returned long after the
last worm had been eaten whenever someone touched the keys. And I have
known more than one Baltimore oriole to fly about the house, joyously
singing, as if attracted and excited by the music in-doors.
BALTIMORE ORIOLE
_Called also: Firebird; Golden Robin; Hang-nest;
Golden Oriole_
A flash of flame among the tender young spring foliage; a rich, high,
whistled song from the blossoming cherry trees, and every child knows
that the sociable Baltimore oriole has just returned from Central
America.
[Illustration]
The gorgeous Baltimore oriole
[Illustration]
How do you suppose these young Baltimore orioles ever packed
themselves into so small a nest?
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Brilliant orange and black feathers like his could no more be
concealed than the fiery little redstart's; and as if they alone were
not enough to advertise his welcome presence in the neighbourhood, he
keeps up a rich, ringing, insistent whistle that you can quickly learn
to imitate. You have often started all the roosters in your
neighbourhood to crowing, no doubt; even so you can "whistle up" the
mystified orioles, who are always disposed to live near our homes.
Although the Baltimore oriole has a Southern name, he is really more
common at the North, whereas the orchard oriole is more at home south
of New England.
Lady Baltimore, who wears a yellowish-olive dress with dusky wings and
tail, has the reputation of being one of the finest nest builders in
the world. To the end of a branch of some tall shade tree, preferably
an elm or willow, although almost any large tree on a lawn or roadside
may suit her, she carries grasses, plant fibre, string, or bits of
cloth. These she weaves and felts into a perfect bag six or seven
inches deep and lines it with finer grasses, hair and wool--a safe,
cozy, swinging cradle for her babies.
But, as you may imagine, those babies have a rather hard time when
they try to climb out of it into the world. Many a one tumbles to the
ground, unable to hold on to the tip of a {148} swaying twig, and not
being strong enough to fly. Then what a tremendous fuss the parents
make! They cannot carry the youngster up into the tree; they are in
deadly fear of cats; they are too worried and excited to leave him
alone; but the plucky little fellow usually hops toward the tree and
with the help of his sharp claws on the rough bark, flutters his way
up to the first limb. People who have brought up broods of orphan
orioles say that they are unusually lively, interesting pets. The
little girl orioles will attempt, instinctively, to weave worsted,
string, grass, or whatever is given them to play with, for of course
they never took a lesson in weaving from their expert mother.
THE PURPLE AND THE BRONZED GRACKLES
_Called also: Crow Blackbirds_
You probably know either one of our two crow blackbirds, similar in
size and habits, one with purplish, iridescent plumage, the commonest
grackle east of the Alleghenies and south of Massachusetts, and the
bronzed grackle, with brassy tints in his black plumage, who overruns
the Western country and from Massachusetts northward. {149} Both have
uncanny, yellow eyes that make you suspect they may be witches in
disguise. Their mates are a trifle smaller and duller.
When the trees are still leafless in earliest spring and the ground is
brown and cold, flocks of blackbirds dot the bare trees or take
shelter from March winds among their favourite evergreens, or walk
solemnly about on the earth like small crows, feeding on fat white
grubs and beetles in a business-like way. They are singularly joyless
birds. A croaking, wheezy whistle, like the sound of a cart wheel that
needs axle-grease, expresses whatever pleasure they may have in life.
Always sociable, living in flocks the entire year through, it is in
autumn only that they band together in enormous numbers, and in the
West especially, do serious havoc in the cornfields. However, they do
incalculable good as insect destroyers, so the farmers must forgive
the "maize thieves."
......
Was ever a family so ill-assorted as the blackbird and oriole clan?
What traits are common to every member of it? Not one, that I know.
Some of the family, as you have seen, are gorgeously clad, like the
Baltimore oriole; some quite plainly, like the cowbird; and although
black seems to be a prevalent colour in the {150} plumage, the
meadowlark, for example, is a brown bird with only a black crescent on
its breast. Most of the males are dressed quite differently from their
mates, although the female grackles are merely duller. Some of these
birds sing exquisitely; others wheeze or croak a few unmusical notes.
Some live in huge flocks; some live in couples. Some, like the
bobolinks, travel to the tropics and beyond every winter; others, like
the meadowlark, can endure the intense cold of the North. Part of the
family feed upon the ground, but the oriole branch live in the trees.
Devotion to mates and children characterise most of the family, but we
cannot overlook the cowbird that neither mates nor takes the slightest
care of its offspring. The cowbird builds no nest, while its cousin,
the Baltimore oriole, is a famous weaver. The bobolink is a
rollicking, jolly fellow; the grackle is solemn, even morose. What a
queer family!
[Illustration]
Young orchard orioles
[Illustration]
"There were three crows sat on a tree"
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