down the lane, and seated myself as comfortably as circumstances would
admit, to spy upon the brown-and-gold family; and day after day I was
watched in turn,--sometimes by the singer, restlessly flying from tree
to tree, peering down to study me from all sides, and amusing me with
all his varied eccentricities of movement and song, if one may thus name
his vocal performances. Occasionally madam condescended to entertain,
or, what is more probable, tried to perplex me by her tactics. She
scorned the transparent device of drawing me away from the dangerous
vicinity by pretending to be hurt, or by grotesque exhibitions. Her plan
was far more cunning than these: it was to point out to the eager seeker
after forbidden knowledge, convenient places where the nest might
be--but certainly was not,--and so to bewilder the spy, by many hints,
that she would not realize it when the real passage to the waiting
nestlings was made. The wise little matron would alight on the fence and
look anxiously down, seemingly about to drop into the nest; then, as if
she really could not make up her mind to do so while I looked on, fly to
a blackberry spray and do it all over again. In a moment she would
repeat the performance from an elm sapling, and again turn anxious and
lingering glances in still another direction. Then, as if now she surely
must go home, she would slip in among the bushes, apparently trying to
keep out of sight. At last, having thoroughly mystified me, and confused
my ideas past clearing up, with a dozen or more hints, she would fly
over the small elm and disappear, in a different direction from any one
of the places she had with such pretended reluctance pointed out. Nor
was the nest to be found by following any of her hints.
One day, when the beguiling little dame had exasperated me beyond
endurance, I suddenly resolved to track her to the nest, if it took the
whole day. So when she flung herself, in her usual way, over the small
elm, I instantly followed, in my humbler fashion. Under the fence I
crept, through the patched-up opening the cows had broken through, and
up the path they had attempted to make. Now I fully appreciated the
wisdom of the bird in the choice of a nesting-site. The very blackberry
bushes appeared to league themselves together for her protection,
stretching long, detaining arms, and clutching my garments in all sorts
of unexpected and impossible ways; and while I carefully disengaged one,
half a dozen others snatched at me in new quarters, till, in despair, I
jerked away, leaving a portion of my gown in their grasp. Thus fighting
my way, inch by inch, I progressed slowly, until the chat's becoming
silent encouraged me to fling prudence to the winds, and pull aside
every bush at the risk of tearing the flesh off my hands on the briers.
[Sidenote: _A NEST AT LAST!_]
At last a nest! My heart beat high. I struggled nearer, cautiously, not
to alarm the owner; for though I must see the nest, I had no desire to
disturb it. I parted the vines and looked in. Empty, and plainly a year
old!
Forgetting the brambles in my disappointment, I turned hastily away,
when the bush, as if in revenge for my discovery of its secret, seized
my garments in a dozen places; and suffering in gown and temper, I tore
myself away from the birds' too zealous guardians and wandered up the
lane.
The lane was an enticing spot, with young blackberry runners stretching
out tender green bloom toward whom they might reach, and clematis
rioting over and binding together in flowery chains all the shrubs and
weeds and young trees. What happiness to dwell in the grounds of the
"shiftless" farmer! Since tidiness, with most cultivators, means the
destruction of all natural beauty, and especially the cutting down of
everything that interferes with the prosperity of cabbages and
potatoes, blessed is untidiness to the lover of Nature. So long as I
study birds I shall carefully seek out the farmer who has lost his
energy, and allows Nature her own inimitable way in his fields and
lanes. The fascinations of that neglected corner cannot be put into
words. The whole railroad embankment which bordered it on one side,
stretching far above my head, was a mad and joyous tangle of wild-grape
vines. In the shade of a cluster of slender trees was a spot enriched by
springs, where flourished the greenest of ferns, sprinkled with
Jack-in-the-pulpits and forget-me-nots. This was the delight of my
heart, and my consolation for the trials connected with chat affairs.
Alas that the usual fate of Nature's divine work should overtake it;
that into a "shiftless" head should come the thought that railroad ties
and fallen trees make good firewood, and without too much trouble can be
dragged out by horses! As a preliminary calamity, half-starved cows were
turned in to nibble the grass, and incidentally to trample and crush
flowers and ferns into one ghastly ruin. And at the same moment, as if
inspired by the same spirit of destruction, some idle railroad "hand,"
with a scythe, laid low the whole bank of grapevines. Ruthless was the
ruin, and wrecked beyond repair the spot, after man's desolating hand
passed over it; a scene of violence, of dead and dying scattered over
the trampled and torn-up sod; "murder most foul" in the eyes of a
Nature-lover. I could not bear to look upon it. I shunned it, lest I
should hate my fellow-man, who can, unnecessarily and in pure
wantonness, destroy in one hour what he cannot replace in a lifetime.
[Sidenote: _A TRAGEDY IN THE LANE._]
Nor was that the full measure of sufferings inflicted on the lane--and
me. That beautiful green passageway happened to be a short cut from the
meadow, and horse-rake and hay-wagon made the ravage complete. The one
crushed and dragged out every sweet-growing thing spared by the previous
devastators, and the other defiled with wisps of dead grass every branch
that reached over its grateful shade. It was pitiful, as much for the
exhibition thus made of a man's insensible and sordid existence, as for
the laceration of my feelings and the actual ruin wrought.
A pleasanter theme is the love-making in which I chanced to catch the
beautiful but bewildering pair in the blackberry bushes. Madam, hopping
about an old apple-tree, was apparently not in the least interested in
her lover, who followed after, in comical fashion, with ludicrous and
truly chat-like antics, every feather raised, crouching, with head
turned this way and that, and neck stretched out, and changing his
position at every hop with the most dramatic action. If modern theories
are true, and bird eccentricities of dress and behavior are assumed to
please and win the mate, what must we think of the taste of our demure
little sisters in feathers?
Did I ever assert that the chat is shy? Then am I properly punished for
not appreciating his individuality, by having to admit that this pair
possessed not a trace of the quality. The singer seemed to be always on
exhibition; and as for his spouse, though she performed no evolutions,
she came boldly into sight, postured in the most approved Delsartian
style, uttered a harsh purr or jerked out a "mew," with a sidewise fling
of her head which showed the inside of her mouth to be black,--all for
my benefit, and without the slightest embarrassment. She made it obvious
to the dullest understanding, that while she did not like spies, nor
approve of human curiosity in neighborhood matters, she was not in the
least afraid.
[Illustration: LOVE-MAKING--THE YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT]
As the days passed on, a change crept over the chat family; they became
more retiring. In my daily walk they were not so easily found; indeed,
sometimes they were not to be seen at all. When I did discover them,
they seemed very much engaged in private affairs, with no time for
displays of any sort. No more droll performances on the tree-top, no
more misleading antics in the blackberries; the days of frolic were
over, the sober duties of life claimed all their energies, and they went
about silently and stealthily. Of course I was sure something had
happened to induce this change,--no doubt nestlings,--and a great and
absorbing determination grew in my mind to find that nest, if I suffered
in body and estate from every bush in the patch.
[Sidenote: _PERSEVERANCE REWARDED._]
Let the story of my encounter be veiled in oblivion. Suffice it to say
that perseverance under such difficulties deserved, and met, reward. In
due time I saw the bird flit away, and my eyes fell upon the nest. No
birds, but four pearls of promise within.
"Think on the speed, and the strength, and the glory,
The wings to be, and the joyous life,
Shut in those exquisite secrets, she brooded."
I looked, but did not touch; and I departed content. A few days later I
made another call. Again I flushed the mother from the nest, and this
time looked upon a brown mass of wriggling baby chats. Meanwhile, since
life had become so serious, the chat sobered down into the dignified
head of a family, and joined his mate in hard work from morning till
night.
But summer days were passing. Dandelion ghosts lined the paths, wild
roses dropped their rosy pink and appeared in sombre green, and meadow
lilies peeped out from every fence corner. A few days after my grand
discovery, I went one evening to the blackberry tangle, and was greeted
by gleeful shouts and calls from the bird of late so silent. There he
was, his old self, his recent reserve all gone. My heart fell; I
suspected, and in a moment I knew the reason. The nest was empty. Where,
then, could be those youngsters, less than a week old, who four days
before were blind and bare of feathers? They could not have flown; they
must have been hurried out of the nest as soon as they could stand.
Could it be because I knew their secret? I felt myself a monster, and I
tried to make amends by hunting them up and replacing them. But the
canny parents, as usual, outwitted me. Not only had they removed their
infants, but they had hidden them so securely that I could not find
them, and I was sure, from their movements, that they were not bereaved.
[Sidenote: _THE TOO CLEVER CHAT._]
I began my search by trying to follow the wily singer, who appeared to
understand, and regard it as a joke. First he led me up the lane, then I
had to follow down the lane; the next minute he shouted from the
blackberry patch, and I had to go around the wall to reach him. Alas,
the race between wings and feet is hopeless! I abandoned that plan, and
resolved to go to a grove not heretofore invaded, being absolutely
impenetrable from undergrowth. My way led across a cornfield, over stone
walls, through thickets and bushes everywhere. Many other birds I
startled, and at last came a chat's "mew" from a wild jungle of ailantus
and brambles, which nothing less effective than an axe could pass
through. But on I went around the edge, the chat's call accompanying me,
and at the point where it sounded loudest I dropped to a humble
position, hoping that eyes might enter further than feet. Nothing to be
seen or heard but a flit of wings. The singer tried to lead me away, but
I was serious and not to be coaxed, and all his man[oe]uvres failed. I
seated myself on the ground, for now I heard low, soft baby calls, and
determined to stay there till the crack of doom, or till I had solved
the mystery of those calls.
But I did not stay so long, and I did not see the babies. An hour or two
of watching weakened my determination, and slowly and sadly I wended my
way homeward; admiring, while I execrated, the too, too clever tactics
of the chat. But I did make one discovery,--that a sound which had
puzzled me, like the distant blow of an axe against a tree, must be
added to the _repertoire_ of the chat mother. I saw her utter it, and
saw the strange movement of the throat in doing so. The sound seemed to
come up in bubbles, which distended her throat on the outside exactly as
if they had been beads as big as shoe buttons.
I was not to be wholly disappointed. Fate had one crumb of consolation
for me, for I saw at last a chat baby. He was a quiet, well-behaved
little fellow, with streaks on throat and breast, and dull yellow
underparts. His manners were subdued, and gave no hint of the bumptious
acrobat he might live to be.
While the vagaries of chat life had been drawing me down toward the
lane, the feathered world on the other side of the house had not been
idle; and glad now to avoid the ruined lane and the deserted berry
patch, I turned my attention to a bird drama nearer home, the story of
which must have a chapter to itself.
VI.
THE "BIRD OF THE MUSICAL WING."
Mr. Bradford Torrey has started an inquiry into the conduct of the
ruby-throated hummingbird, who is said, contrary to the habits of the
feathered world in general, to absent himself from his family during the
time that his mate is brooding and rearing the young. The question of
interest to settle is his motive in so doing. Does he consider his
brilliant ruby dangerous to the safety of the nest, and so deny himself
the pleasure as well as the pain of family life? Does he selfishly
desert outright, and return to bachelor ways, when his mate settles
herself to her domestic duties? Or does the pugnacious little creature
herself decline not only his advice and counsel, but even his presence?
This problem in the life of the bird has lent new interest to its study,
and I was greatly pleased, last summer, when the bursting into bloom of
a trumpet creeper, which clad with beauty the branches of an old
locust-tree, attracted to the door of my temporary home this
"Rare little bird of the bower,
Bird of the musical wing."
No sooner did the great red trumpets begin to open than their winged
admirers appeared, and the special object of my interest--whether by
right of discovery or by force of will I could not determine--asserted
her claim to the vine and its vicinity, and at once proceeded to evict
every pretender to any share of the treasure. Nor was it a difficult
task; for though the smallest of our birds, the ruby-throat is perhaps
the most spirited. No bird, not even the mighty eagle, standard-bearer
of the republic, is too big for this midget to attack, and none fails to
retire before his rapier-like beak. Madam of the vine lacked none of the
courage and self-assertion of her race, and a few lively skirmishes
convinced the neighbors, with one exception, that this particular crop
of blossoms was preempted and no trespassing allowed. That matter
happily arranged, she settled down in peace to enjoy her estate, and I
followed her example.
July was nearly half gone when blossoms began to unclose on the vine and
my lady took possession. The world about the house and orchard was full
of melody, for goldfinches were just celebrating their nuptials, and
birds have to furnish their own wedding music. Though a march may
express the pomp and ceremony of human marriage, a rhapsody is more in
harmony with joyous bird unions, and the air rang with their raptures.
The marriage hymn of the hummingbird--if any there were--was not for
human ears; indeed, most of the life, certainly all of the wedded life
of this bird, is shrouded in mystery, perhaps never to be unraveled till
we understand bird language, and can subject him to an "interview."
[Sidenote: _A TALKATIVE HUMMINGBIRD._]
The first thing that surprised me in my little neighbor was her
volubility, for I had never found her kin talkative. She made remarks to
herself, doubtless both witty and wise, but sounding to her dull-eared
hearers, it must be confessed, like squeaky twitters; and somewhat
later, when she recognized me as an admirer, as I fully believe she did,
she even addressed some conversation to me, going out of her way to fly
over my head as she did so.
Nothing could be more dainty than her way of exploring the flowers on
her vine. Poising herself on wing before a blossom, she first gazed
earnestly into its rosy depths, to judge of its quality,--or possibly of
its tenants; for it was not nectar alone that she sought. If it pleased
her, she dashed upon it, seized the lower rim with her tiny claws, and
folded her wings. Then drawing her head far back, she thrust her beak,
her head, and sometimes her whole body into the flower tube, her plump
little form completely filling it; and there she hung motionless for a
few seconds, while I struggled with the temptation to inclose blossom
and bird in my hand. If the flower chanced to be an old one, her
roughness sometimes detached it, when she hastily backed out, protesting
indignantly, and looking over to see it fall.
Atom though the hummer was, hardly more than a pinch of feathers, she
was a decided character, with notions and ways of her own. One of her
fancies was to open the honey-pots for herself. When she found a bud
beginning to unclose, a lobe or two unfolded, she at once took it in
hand and vigorously proceeded to aid the process with her needle-like
beak, and the instant it was accomplished rushed in to secure her spoils
in their first freshness. She never appeared to have patience to wait
for anything, and sometimes even tried to hurry up dilatory buds. She
did succeed, as such vehemence must, in breaking in the back way, as it
were, through a hole in the corolla tube, and rifling the bud before it
had a chance to become a blossom. I could not decide positively whether
she pierced the tubes, or availed herself of the labors of an oriole I
had seen splitting them by inserting his beak and then opening it wide
to enlarge the hole.
[Sidenote: _A YOUTHFUL INTRUDER._]
One quality that my little friend most woefully lacked was repose. Not
only were her motions jerky and exasperating in the extreme, but during
my whole acquaintance with her I never saw her for a moment absolutely
still. On the rare occasions when her body was at rest, her head turned
from side to side as though moved by machinery, like the mandarin dolls
of the toy-shops, and I had doubts whether she ever slept. I was really
concerned about her. Nervous prostration seemed the only thing she could
look forward to; and later I found that Bradford Torrey had suffered
similar anxiety about one of her kind, as related in his charming story,
"A Widow and Twins."
There was one exception, as I said, to the complete success of the
little lady in green, in establishing her claim to the vine. The
individual who refused to be convinced interested me greatly. He looked
a guileless and innocent youth; his tender age being indicated by a
purer white on the breast and a not fully grown tail. Moreover, he was
not so deft in movement as the experienced matron he defied; he was
almost clumsy, in fact, having some difficulty in man[oe]uvring his
unwieldy beak and getting his head into the tube, and being much
disconcerted by the swaying of the blossoms in the breeze. Youth and
innocence were shown, too, in the manner of the little stranger toward
my lady. He approached her in a confiding way, as if expecting a
welcome, and was plainly astonished at being attacked instead. Indeed,
he apparently could not believe his repulse was serious, for he soon
returned in the most friendly spirit, and utterly refused to be driven
away.
After making myself well acquainted with the manners and ways of Madam
Ruby-throat, and noting that she always took her departure in exactly
the same direction and at quite regular intervals, I began to suspect
that she had important business somewhere; probably a nest, possibly a
pair of twin babies. Should I undertake the hopeless task of seeking
that tiny lichen-covered cradle, so nearly resembling a thousand knots
and other protuberances that one might as easily find the proverbial
needle in a hay-stack, or should I turn my attention to other inviting
quarters on the place? While I hesitated, balancing the attractions,
madam herself chanced to give me a hint. One morning, as I was watching
her steady flight across the lawn, I caught a decided upward swerve of
the gleaming line, and instantly resolved to take the hint, if such it
were. I went quietly to a pear-tree on her course, and waited for the
next point, if she chose to give it. She did; she was most
obliging,--may I venture to say friendly? Almost immediately she
passed me, and alighted on one of a row of tall trees that lined the
road. There she hovered for a moment, giving sharp digs at one spot, as
though detaching something, and then flew straight along the line to an
immense silver poplar.
[Sidenote: _SHE SHOWED ME THE NEST._]
Here at last the bird settled, and a wild hope sprang up in my heart.
Stealing nearer to the tree without taking my eyes from the spot;
ignoring the danger of pitfalls in my path, of holes to fall into and
rocks to fall over, of briers to scratch and snakes to bite, I drew as
near as I dared, and then cautiously raised my glass to my eyes, and
behold! the nest with my lady upon it! The thrill of that moment none
but a fellow bird-lover can understand. What now was the most beguiling
of chats; what the danger of dislocating my neck; what the dread of
neighborhood wonder; what the annoyance of mosquitoes, or dogs, or small
boys, or loose cattle, or anything? There was the nest. (I am obliged to
admit, parenthetically, that nearly all these calamities befell me
during my devotion to that nest, but I never faltered in my attentions,
and I never regretted.)
At the moment of discovery, however, I was too excited to watch. First
carefully locating the tiny object by means of a dead branch,--for I
knew I should have to seek it again if I lost it then, and the luck of
finding it so easily could not fall to me twice,--I rushed to the house
to share my enthusiasm with a sympathizer.
My lady ruby-throat was a canny bird; she had selected her position with
judgment. The silver poplar of her choice was covered with knobs so
exactly copied by the nest that no one would have suspected it of being
anything different. It was on a dead branch, so that foliage could not
trouble her, while leafy twigs grew near enough for protection. No large
limb afforded rest for a human foe, and it was at the neck-breaking
height of twenty feet from the ground. Neck-breaking indeed I found it,
after a trial of twenty minutes' duration, which, judging from my
sensations, might have been a century.
[Illustration: THE NEST WITH MY LADY UPON IT--RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD]
But whether my head ever recovered its natural pose or not, I was happy;
for I saw the hummingbird shaping her snug domicile to her tidy form,
turning around and around in it, pressing with breast and bend of the
wing, as I was certain, from the similarity of her attitude and motions
to those of a robin I had closely watched at the same work. During the
time I watched her she made ten trips between the poplar and the vine,
and at every visit worked at shaping the nest and adjusting the
outside material. She did not care for my distant and inoffensive
presence on the earth below, and she probably did not suspect the power
of my glass to spy upon her secrets, for she showed no discomfiture at
my frequent visits. Indeed, she took pains to let me know that she had
her eye upon me, for twice when she left the nest she swerved from her
course to swoop down over my head, squeaking most volubly as she passed.
[Sidenote: _A CHARMING SPOT._]
While sitting at my post of observation, my neck sometimes refused to
retain its unnatural position a moment longer, and then I refreshed
myself with other objects around; for after some search I had found a
charming place for study. It was beside a rocky ledge which ran through
the middle of a bit of meadow-land, and happily defied being cultivated,
although it supported a flourishing crop of wildings,--scattering elm,
oak, and pine trees, with sumac, goldenrod, and other sweet things to
fill up the tangle. Under a low-spreading tree I placed my seat: at my
back the screening rocks, in front a strip of meadow waiting for the
mower. Along the side where I entered ran a stone wall, but before me
was a stretch of delightfully dilapidated old board and pole fence. It
had been reinforced and made available for keeping out undesirables by
barbed wire, but at my distance that was inconspicuous and did not
disturb me. The fence had never been painted, the wind and weather of
many years had toned it down to the hue of a tree-trunk, and it was so
thoroughly decorated with lichens that it had come to look almost like a
bit of nature's work,--if nature could have made anything so ugly. I
believe the birds regarded it as a special arrangement for their
benefit. Certainly they used it freely.