Part 18
The first step in repressing any wrong is for some individual to take a firm stand, even in the face of the greatest discouragement. Another will follow, and then another, and by and by, when we have hardly begun to believe anything has been done, a wave sweeps over the country, and the wrong is righted. This, however, can never be brought about unless by individual action and the abiding faith that every one counts.
Mrs. Miller advances as her "strong argument" the great value of caged birds as pets in the education of the child, and upsets her own argument by saying: "Nothing is more important than the training of our youth in humanity, and respect for the rights of others." "Respect for the rights of others" means justice to all the dumb or helpless creation. Even a child can reason out for himself that a bird was created for freedom in the upper air, not for confinement in a cage, and that, even if it is bred in a cage, it is no more just or right to put it to such purposes than it would be to keep a dog chained all day, or a horse tied in a stable all his life, or a man confined within the narrow limits of prison walls.
Children have ample opportunity to be taught kindness, and, what is even better than kindness, justice to the animal creation by having the care of cats or dogs, yet how few mothers or teachers take pains to teach the right care of these common animals, which are to be found everywhere, and are dependent on man for their happiness. A child will not discriminate between the bird bred in a cage and the bird taken from the mother's nest for the purpose of being brought up in a cage, and while birds are given as pets to children, not only the traffic in canaries is encouraged, but the snaring, or the capturing by other means, of our own song birds will continue. It seems to me there is but one lesson to teach children in relation to birds,--that they were made to be free, and to have space to use the wings that surely cannot have proper exercise even in the confined space of a house.
Let those who already have birds take good care of them, by all means; give them the right food and plenty of fresh water, and as much freedom as possible in the limits of the house; but let those who are true bird-lovers discourage the traffic in birds in every way possible, no matter how hopeless it may seem just now to endeavor to put a stop to it, for the influence of every individual counts.
Anna Harris Smith.
* * * * *
To the Editor of Bird-Lore.
_Dear Sir_:--In the main Mrs. Miller's statement of the case is the one that I have come to adopt. In fact, my prejudices against the practice of caging birds were entirely banished and the whole subject revealed in a new light by reading Mrs. Miller's 'Bird Ways.' Such wonderful possibilities of bird happiness, child culture and education, and bird study were opened up by this little book that, from being opposed to caged birds, I was converted to believe that the cage might be made one of the most important factors in the great new field of bird study, and, I hope, actual bird culture, which seems to be dawning before us.
The subject has a number of ethical bearings which Mrs. Miller does not touch upon, two of which I may point out.
First: We may not only have a "right" to confine a bird, but it may become a duty which we owe not only to the bird itself, but to the community as well. The moment before beginning to write this a young Robin was sitting warmly in my hand gulping down earthworms and blackberries. He is now sleeping quietly in a cage by my side. I picked him up this noon on the ground under the nest, unable to fly, and I love to think of him safe and cosy instead of fluttering in the jaws of some miscreant cat. Some days ago a boy came and told me that a neighbor's wife had taken a young Robin away from her cat "and put it on top of the shed" (to fall down into the cat's mouth again). At my request he brought the bird, but it was so lacerated that it died that night. Of two nests of Robins I have known this season, in spite of me, the cats got seven of the young, and the eighth would have gone the same way were it not sleeping safely in another of my cages. In all, I have three young Robins, all picked up from the ground, unable to fly, all, without the shadow of a doubt, saved from the cats. None have died in my hands, the one killed by the neighbor's cat not counted, and they seem to be fairly happy little birds, though it is to be hoped that they will grow happier as they grow wiser. My point is simply that in the present exigency of our rapidly decreasing bird life, every child should learn how to care for fledglings of different species and have suitable cages where they may be kept until, at least, they are able to fly. This may often be done by hanging the cage near the nest, where the parents will feed it. Our children owe this work to the community, to themselves and to the birds. I am aware some will say that this will lead to the death of more fledglings than now go to feed the cats. And under present conditions, I regret to say, there is a good deal of truth in it. In trying to get children interested in this work, I have been surprised to find so many who say, "Oh yes, I would like to have some tame Robins so much; but you can't keep them alive. I have tried it, and they all died." "What did you feed them?" "Oh, bread crumbs;" now and then one will say "worms and berries." "Did they eat?" "No, I never saw them eat anything." "Did you give them any water to drink?" "No, I didn't think of that." "How often do you feed them? Do you know that birds are flying appetites? Did you feed them regularly about every hour?" "No, I put in some stuff generally about once a day." And so it goes. But shall we be content with this state of things when any bright child can be given the necessary instruction in an hour by which he can succeed in keeping alive and taming practically all the fledglings that fall in his way?
Second: We owe it as a duty to both the birds and ourselves to learn the facts of bird life. We do not adequately know the life story of a single one of our most common species. Every fact that can be discovered as to the good or the harm that birds do _ought_ to be found out. Every fact so discovered will act as just so much more motive force to bring about proper relations with our birds. A few birds have been killed, and the stomach contents analyzed, to obtain facts about bird foods which have changed our sentiments and even legislation. Somebody owed this as a duty to both birds and community. But this method is not well adapted for use in elementary schools, and its results might be infinitely extended and the subject of bird foods made a matter of practical public education, by having classes in nature study throughout our schools make feeding tests with tame birds of different species. Cages will have to play at least a temporary role in work of this kind. More than this, a knowledge of bird ways, habits, methods of feeding and caring for their nests and young, their songs and calls, "their manners for the heart's delight," are great æsthetic and educational values. These might all be developed and enhanced by a proper use of caged birds. Instead of collections of stuffed birds, the ethics and educational value of which I wish might be discussed in Bird-Lore, each city might have, possibly maintained by some ornithological society, a fine collection of pairs of a few of our most valuable species. These could make the rounds of the schools each year. This, too, need only be a temporary expedient, useful until sufficient general interest and knowledge is developed so that we may have, properly appreciated and protected, an abundance of our native birds tamed sufficiently to come close about our homes.
The above are but two points among many, and I bring them forward to bespeak a little intelligent favor for the proper use of the cage. We owe the birds duties of protection and acquaintance, and the cage may help us in the performance of both.
C. F. Hodge, _Clark University_.
=For Young Observers=
Oliver Twist, Catbird
BY ISABELLA McC. LEMMON
On July 9, 1898, we caught a young Catbird. He had left the nest the day before, and had then eluded all our efforts, but by morning a pouring rain had removed his objections to captivity, and a very wet, bedraggled little Catbird was established in the big cage. He soon stopped trying to get out, and seemed quite contented--except occasionally when the old birds heard him calling for food and came to the rescue. But that was carefully guarded against, and as his voice lost its baby tone they left him in peace.
A name was quickly given, the frequency and great size of his meals promptly gaining for him the title of 'Oliver Twist.' Worms, currants, goose-, rasp-, black-, and huckleberries, bits of bread soaked in milk, all went down, but the fruit seemed somewhat more acceptable. On July 16, the amount of food was greatest: 43 earthworms and 81 berries between 7 a. m. and 6.50 p. m.
As the different berries ripened he gave up the early kinds and accepted the new ones most eagerly, elderberries especially. These last he ate by the bunch--indeed one need only walk past a patch of the bushes when the fruit is ripe, to appreciate a Catbird's fondness for them.
By the 16th Oliver had taken his first bath, and for the first time I saw him drink. Four days later, when he must have been about four weeks old, we heard him trying to sing--queer little chirps and gurgles in the lowest of tones, but evidently intended for a song. He stopped as soon as he saw me, raising his wings and begging for food, and for some time we were obliged to enjoy his musical efforts by stealth.
By August 1, he was pretty well feathered; the tail was almost full length, and even the little feathers over the nostrils had started to grow. He was also able to feed himself then, but greatly preferred being fed; often, when I offered him more than he wanted, giving a low 'chuck' very like the old birds' call.
As August progressed worms were refused, and though bread and milk and all sorts of berries were eaten, the bird evidently missed something. He was molting a little--if the loss of so few feathers could be called a molt--but became more and more droopy, refusing or indifferently eating the various things we tried, till some one gave him a fly! Then all went well; he ate all the flies we could catch, sometimes twenty at a meal, and also wasps and bees. When he saw somebody bringing one of the latter dainties he would jump about in great excitement; then, snatching the insect, kill it with a few quick pinches and swallow it, poison and all. He also learned the motion made in catching a fly, and was on the alert as soon as he saw me snatch for one.
Towards the end of the month I let him out of doors--though he had often been out in the house--and after that he had exercise nearly every day, flying about a little, coming readily to me when I whistled, and generally returning to the cage quickly enough for a few flies. He evidently regarded the cage as home, for let any large bird pass at what he considered too close quarters and in he went like a flash, there to remain till the danger was past. On one occasion, when he was hopping among the plants in the house, I saw him carefully watching a Crow that was fighting his way against a heavy wind. Suddenly the Crow gave way, making a swoop almost to the window, and in far less time than it can be told the Catbird was in the cage and up on a perch, so terrified that it was some minutes before he was himself again.
About the middle of September Oliver Twist caught the migration fever, and when no one was in sight was very uneasy in his cage, not only during the day but at night as well. In the evening the bird was always moved to a dark back hall, where he usually settled down at once; now he was most restless, chucking and mewing sometimes for nearly an hour, and not until late in October did he finally become quiet. Cool days, also, made him more uneasy.
During the fall months Oliver ate every sort of berry I could find, from dogwood to Boston ivy, with two exceptions: those of the wild rose and the catbriar. The seeds of the ivy berries he always ejected, perfectly clean and free from pulp, beginning about half an hour after swallowing them; he would work the bill a little, as if the seed were in his mouth, a moment later pushing it out with the tongue. At first they appeared quite rapidly--two or three or even more in a minute--then more slowly, and continued for at least three-quarters of an hour.
As the house flies disappeared, the big blue and green species, that during the summer were simply scorned, grew quite tempting; but even these gave out, and it became very difficult to find proper food for the little fellow. Figs for a time supplied the place of berries, but he tired of them at last, and bits of meat never passed for flies or for the worms that even in the greenhouse went down beyond reach of the trowel.
The cage now stood among the plants in a sunny window of the dining-room, and the conversation at meal times generally started Oliver singing; yet it was always a low version of the usual Catbird song, for he invariably sang with the bill nearly closed. Often in the dark December mornings he was scarcely awake when breakfast began, but in a few minutes we would hear his cheerful little song--the first thing in his day--before he even left his night's perch. Then, as the sun touched him there came a great arranging of feathers and a good shake to put each one in place again, and then breakfast.
The bath was almost never omitted from the time the bird was about a month old, and often he bathed twice a day if the first were given him early in the morning; and how he enjoyed it! shuffling up the water with his wings, ducking his head, and spattering in every direction till he was soaked through, then going to the perch and flicking wings and tail and ruffling the feathers until dry.
To some extent Oliver showed affection by coming most readily to me, who generally fed him, and by an odd little greeting he usually gave when I offered him my finger, gently pinching it or giving a slight peck, too mild ever to be mistaken for anger. Unfortunately this was broken up by the teasing of another member of the family, and the pecks became too severe to be altogether agreeable.
He was growing more wild and more unwilling to return to his cage, and I intended to let him go when spring came, but long before that time he got sickly and sluggish, eager for the berries and insects that were not to be found, and in spite of everything I tried in their stead, he died late in December.
But though Oliver Twist lived so short a time he taught me many interesting lessons, one of which, in particular, I shall long remember: never try to keep a fruit- and insect-eating bird through the winter, for no amount of willingness and care can supply him with proper food. Take nature's word for it--she knows quite well what she is about when she sends them all off to the south.
=Notes from Field and Study=
Birds and Caterpillars
Last year, at Brandon, Vermont, the tent-caterpillars were so abundant as to be a serious injury and annoyance. They lay in close rows, making wide bands on the tree trunks. They spun down from the upper branches and fell upon the unfortunate passers-by. They crawled through the grass in such numbers that it seemed to move in a mass as one looked down upon it. Under these circumstances, birds might be expected to do strange things,--and they did.
The pair of Downy Woodpeckers which lived near us were frequently seen on the ground picking up the crawling tent-caterpillars. They seemed to prefer taking them from the ground to taking them from the trees, though there were more on the tree-trunks than on the ground even. And the Woodpeckers seemed to have no difficulty in moving on the ground, though they moved more slowly than when dodging around a tree.
Two mountain-ash trees on the place were infested by borers, though only slightly and only near the ground, and at the foot of one of these trees the Downy Woodpeckers made many a stand, while they probed the borer-holes with their bills.
The Cuckoos came boldly into the village and fed and fed, flying about quite openly. The Nuthatches flew to a band of caterpillars on a tree-trunk, and were so busy and absorbed in devouring the crawlers that I could put my hand on them before they started to fly, and then they merely flew to another tree close by, and attacked another mass of caterpillars.
Blackbirds waddled over the grass by the sides of the streets picking up the crawlers, and even a Woodcock spent several hours in the garden and on the lawn, _apparently_ feasting on tent-caterpillars, but I could not get near enough to be sure.
The Vireos--White-eyed, Red-eyed, and Warbling--the Cat-birds, Cedar-birds, and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks did good service to the trees and human beings, but the most evident destruction was done by the Chipping Sparrows when the moths emerged late in the summer. The moths were very abundant after four o'clock in the afternoon, flying about the trees to lay their eggs, and then the Chippies became fly-catchers for the time, and flew straight, turned, twisted, dodged, and tumbled 'head over heels and heels over head' in the air, just as the course of the hunted moth made necessary. A quick snap of the beak, and four brownish wings would float down like snowflakes, and their numbers on the walks, roads and grass showed how many thousands of moths were slain. In spite of the unwonted exercise the Chippies waxed fat, but not as aldermanic as the Robins, which, earlier, gorged themselves on the caterpillars until, as one observer said, "their little red fronts actually trailed on the ground."--Caroline G. Soule, _Brookline, Mass._
An Odd Nesting Site
I have never seen an account of a House Wren taking up his abode in another bird's nest. It seemed, therefore, at first incredible when, early this summer, we saw a Wren frequenting a deserted Baltimore Oriole's nest and apparently start housekeeping in it. This nest was in one of the outermost branches of a large sugar maple about twenty feet from the ground and the same distance from the farm-house, and was completely filled with twigs by its tenants. The little Wren's choice was the more remarkable, in that a number of bird houses had been placed about the grounds for their special accommodation. I believe none of these were occupied, and this pair deliberately preferred the Oriole's nest.--L. H. Schwab, _Sharon, Conn._
=Book News and Reviews=
The First Book of Birds. By Olive Thorne Miller. With 8 colored and 12 plain plates and 20 figures in the text. Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1899. 12mo, pp. viii + 149.
Text-books based on successful experiences in teaching generally prove to be of value, and the present volume is no exception to the rule. It contains what its author has found to be the most adequate definition of the bird in her talks on this little-known creature to boys and girls. It is well-named a 'First Book of Birds,' Mrs. Miller's aim being to arouse an intelligent interest in bird-life before confronting the inquirer with 'keys' and discouraging identification puzzles. She, therefore, begins with the nest, and outlines the development of the bird, following this section by chapters on the bird's language, food, migration, intelligence, etc., and concluding with sections on 'How He is Made,' and 'His Relations with Us.' The matter is well chosen, and so admirably arranged that no attentive reader can fail to receive a clear and logical conception of the chief events in a bird's life.--F. M. C.
Field Key to the Land Birds. By Edward Knobel. Boston, Bradlee Whidden. 1899. 16mo, pp. 55, numerous cuts in the text and 10 colored plates.
This is an attempt to make plain the way of the field student, to whom every aid is welcome. One hundred and fifty-five land birds are divided into four groups, according to their size, and are arranged on nine colored plates, in the preparation of which the publishers have evidently struggled with the evils of cheap lithography, or some inexpensive color process. Experience in this direction makes us a lenient critic, and our standard has been reduced from the level of perfection to that of recognizability; that is, if a plate is sufficiently good to unmistakably represent a certain species, even crudely, we view it solely from a practical standpoint, and admit that it doubtless serves its purpose. Applying this test to the plates under consideration, we are forced to state that, although fairly familiar with the species figured, we are in many cases unable to name the figures.
The text is condensed and to the point, and the pen and ink illustrations liberally scattered through it will be found useful by beginners, to whom the book may be commended.--F. M. C.
Our Common Birds. Suggestions for the Study of Their Life and Work. By C. F. Hodge, Ph.D., Clark University, Worcester, Mass. Food-chart and Drawings by Miss Helen A. Ball. 8vo, pp. 34, 3 half-tones, 8 line cuts in text. 10 cts. per copy, $6 per 100 copies.
This is a contribution to the pedagogics of ornithology which cannot fail to interest every one desirous of seeing bird studies introduced in our schools. It opens with a chapter on the 'Biology of Our Common Birds,' which shows the importance of becoming acquainted with them, giving, in fact, the reasons which have actuated Professor Hodge in his work in the schools of Worcester.
The nature of this work and the success which has attended it are set forth in the succeeding pages, whose contents are indicated by the sub-titles 'The Bird Census,' 'The Food Chart' (A very useful compilation by Miss Helen A. Ball, showing graphically the food of our commoner birds), 'Bird Study in the Schoolroom,' 'Taming Our Wild Birds and Attracting Them to Our Houses,' and a 'Life Chart of Our Common Birds.' Lack of space prohibits a description of the methods of bird-study given under these headings. Some of the results of their practical application, however, are to be found in the concluding chapter on the 'Ten-to-One Clubs' formed in the Worcester schools, which were joined by "not less than 5,000 children," who signed the club constitution, which opens by stating that "the object of the club shall be to use every means possible to increase the number of our native wild birds by providing them, when necessary, with food, water, shelter and nesting places."
The pamphlet gives other and equally striking proofs of the enthusiasm with which the children welcomed the opportunity of becoming familiar with birds, and indeed is the most convincing proof of the educational value of bird study which has come to our attention.--F. M. C.
Book News
With its August issue 'Our Animal Friends,' the organ of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, concludes its twenty-sixth volume. This magazine is edited with a breadth of view which must result in winning many supporters for the cause it represents. In its columns we find no senseless tirades against the inhumanity of partly civilized man, but sane, logical discussions of the rights of animals and the manner in which they may best be secured; of the habits of animals, including many interesting papers on birds,--of animals and their value to man, all of which are calculated to arouse sympathy or interest in them and respect for the journal which so ably champions their welfare.