Chapter 16

PEEPERS AND CREEPERS

THE GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET

"We have been looking at some of the larger song birds; now try the sharpness of your eyes by finding a tiny little fellow--a veritable midget, who belongs to the guild of Tree Trappers. He is usually intent upon his work, continually hopping and peeping among little branches and twigs, and thinks it would be time wasted if he stayed still long enough to give you a chance to look at him. He is so small that there are very few North American birds to compare with him in littleness. The Hummingbird, is smaller still, and the Winter Wren measures no more, only he is chunkier. But what of that? This Kinglet is as hardy and vigorous as the biggest Hawk or Owl. His body is padded with a thick feather overcoat that enables him to stay all winter, if he chooses, in all but the most northern States.

"Small as he is, however, every one knows him, for he disports himself at some time of the year in the North, South, East, and West. If you see a tiny bird, darting quick as a mouse in and out among the budded twigs of fruit trees in early spring, now and then showing a black stripe and a little gleam of red or yellow on its head, it is this Kinglet. If you see such a pygmy again in autumn, exploring the bare twigs, it is this Kinglet. When light snow is first powdering the spruces and bending the delicate hemlock branches, dusky shapes flit out of the green cover. Are they dry leaves blown about by the gust? No, leaves do not climb about in the face of the wind, or pry and peep into every cone crevice, crying 'twe-zee, twe-zee, twe-zee!' They are not leaves, but a flock of Kinglets forcing the bark crevices to yield them a breakfast of the insects which had put themselves comfortably to bed for the winter. Think of the work that these birds do, who not only fight the insect army in summer, but in sleet and snow are as busy as ever destroying the eggs that would turn in another season to worms and eat the orchards!

"Though the Golden-crowned Kinglets rove about in flocks a great part of the year, they are extremely private in the nesting season. They go to northern and high places to hide their homes, putting them as far out of reach as does the Baltimore Oriole. This nest is made of moss and seems very large when compared with the size of the builder. It is partly hung from the concealing bough of an evergreen, sometimes quite near the ground, sometimes swinging far up out of sight." "Does this Kinglet lay two little white eggs, like the Hummingbird?" asked Nat.

"No," said the Doctor, "this sturdy bird lays eight or ten white eggs with brown spots."

"Ten eggs!" cried Dodo. "How can it sit on them all at once and keep them warm enough to hatch?"

"Perhaps the birds stir the eggs up every day to give them all an even chance," said Rap.

"It is possible that they may," said the Doctor; "but that is one of many things about home life in Birdland that we do not know.

"There is one thing more that I must tell you here, lest you make a mistake about the Golden-crowned Kinglet. He has a twin brother, so much like himself that their own parents can hardly tell them apart without looking at the tops of their heads. The other twin's name is Ruby-crown, for he has a beautiful little crest of that color, half hidden in dark greenish; but not any of the black and yellow marks on the head that will always enable you to recognize the Golden-crown, if you can get a chance to see them while the little fellow is fidgeting about. It is a snug family that contains these two birdlets, for there is only one other member of it in all this part of the world, and you will not be likely to see him about Orchard Farm."

The Golden-crowned Kinglet

Length four inches.

Upper parts olive-green, browner on the wings and tail, which have some yellowish edgings.

A bright-red stripe on the crown, bordered by a yellow and then by a black line; but young birds and females have only the yellow and black stripes, without any red.

Under parts soiled white, without any marks.

A Citizen of the United States, and a Tree Trapper.

THE WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH

"'Yank! yank!' says the White-breasted Nuthatch, as he runs up tree-trunks and comes down again head foremost, quite as a matter of course.

"At first, or from a distance, you may mistake him for his cousin the Chickadee, who wears clothes of much the same color and is seen in the same places; or perhaps for the little Downy Woodpecker, who also hammers his insect food out of the tree bark.

"But at a second glance you will find the Nuthatch is very different. He keeps his body very close to the tree and uses his feet to creep about like a mouse or chipmunk; he also goes upside down, in a way that Woodpeckers never do, clings to the under side of a branch as easily as a fly to the ceiling, and often roosts or takes a nap head downward on the side of a tree-trunk--a position that would seem likely to give him a severe headache, if birds ever have such things."

"This is the bird I saw the first day I went to the orchard with Olive; but why is he called a Nuthatch?" asked Nat.

"Because, besides liking to eat insects and their grubs or their eggs, he is also very fond of some kinds of nuts, like beech and chestnuts," said the Doctor, "and he may be obliged to live entirely upon them in winter, when insects fail him. Having no teeth to gnaw and crack them open as squirrels do, he takes a nut in his claws and either holding it thus, or jamming it tight into a crack in the bark, then uses his bill for a hatchet to split or hack the nut open. I have seen the bird crack hard nuts in this way, that it would take very strong teeth to break. People used to call him 'Nuthack' or 'Nuthacker'; these words mean exactly the same thing, but we always say 'Nuthatch' now."

"Then there are Nuthatches up in the hickory woods," said Rap, "but I never knew their real name until now; for the miller calls them 'white-bellied creepers.' Last summer I found one of their nests, when I wasn't looking for it either."

"Do they build here?" asked Olive. "I thought they only visited us in winter. I don't remember ever hearing one sing, or seeing one in late spring or summer."

"They live and nest everywhere in the eastern part of the country," said the Doctor; "but they are very silent and shy except in the autumn and winter. In fact, this Nuthatch keeps his nest a secret from everybody but his wife and the Dryad of the tree in which he places it; he will not even trust the little branches with his precious home, but makes it in the wood of the tree itself. You say, Rap, that you found one of these nests--won't you tell us about it?"

"It was this way," said Rap. "I was up in a hickory tree trying to look over into a Woodpecker's hole that was in another tree, when I stepped on a stumpy branch that was rotten and partly broke off; and there, inside, was a soft nest made of feathers, with, four very little birds in it. I was afraid they would fall out, but there was enough of the branch left to hold them in. While I was wondering what sort of birds they were, the father and mother came running along a branch above, and gave me a terrible scolding, so pretty soon I slid down and left them. How they did squeak!" and Rap laughed at the remembrance of it.

"They have not very musical voices at best," said the Doctor; "even their spring song is a rather husky performance."

"Isn't that a Nuthatch now?" asked Nat. "There--hanging to the end tassel of the big spruce; and a lot more above--do come and look, Olive."

"No, Nattie, they are the Chickadees that father said, a moment ago, you might mistake for Nuthatches."

"Chickadee-dee-dee!" said a bird, looking at the children with one eye.

The White-breasted Nuthatch

Length about six inches.

Upper parts grayish-blue.

Top of head and back of neck black.

Some black and white marks on wings and tail.

Sides of face and whole breast white, turning rusty on belly.

Bill strong, straight, sharp-pointed, two-thirds of an inch long.

A Citizen of the eastern United States and Canada.

A Tree Trapper.

THE CHICKADEE

"I see them, I see them, _lots_ of them!" almost screamed Dodo, growing so excited that Nat and Olive each grabbed one of her hands to keep her from clapping them, and so driving the Chickadees away.

"I never saw a strange new bird so near by," explained Dodo, "and if my eye was only a photograph machine I could take his picture."

"You can make a word-picture instead, by telling us how the bird appears to you," said the Doctor in a low voice, "but you need not whisper, for whispering is an unnatural use of the voice; it makes birds and other people suspicious, and is more likely to attract attention than a quiet low tone."

"That is what mother said when she was sick last winter and the neighbors came in to sit with her. If they talked softly she stayed asleep and didn't mind, but if they whispered she said she dreamed that the room was full of geese hissing and always waked up frightened," said Nat.

The Chickadees did not mind the conversation in the least, but kept on flitting in and out of the spruces, swinging from the little pink buds that would grow into cones by and by, doing a dozen pretty tricks, and all the time calling "chickadee-dee-dee" as if they were repeating a joke among themselves.

"They mean we shall know their name, anyway," said Nat. "Have they any other song?"

"Oh, yes, some nice little whistle-tunes like this--'whée-ewèe, whée-ewèe,'" said Rap, "and if you whistle back they'll answer. I've done it lots of times."

"Try now--do, Rap, and see if they will answer," begged Dodo.

"It's too open out here, but I will go back of the trees and perhaps they will answer. I heard one whistling in there a minute ago."

The children listened, and presently "whée-ewèe, whée-ewèe," came two high notes from among the trees. They were answered by two others, very musical, but a little bit sad. So the duet went on, boy and bird, until Dodo and Nat lost count and could not tell which was which. Then the music stopped and Rap returned laughing, saying that when the Chickadee found out it was not another bird that he was calling to, he was vexed and flew away.

"Some Chickadees lived around our house all last winter," continued Rap, "and used to eat out of the chickens' dish. I watched them every day but one that was terribly windy, and then they stayed under the miller's cow-shed. Even strong winter birds don't like the wind much--do they, Doctor?"

"No, my lad, wind is one of the greatest enemies that a bird has. A hardy bird who has plenty to eat can endure bitter cold, but when the food-supply is scanty, as it often is in winter, and the trees are covered with snow and ice, life is a battle with the Bird People. Then if a high wind is added to all this discomfort their strength gives way, and they often die in great numbers.

"If people who own gardens and farms, where there are no evergreen trees or hayricks for birds to hide in, would put up each fall little shelters of brush and branches, they would save a great many bird-lives, and their orchards would be freer from insects in the spring. But, Dodo, you are not painting the word-picture of the Chickadee. Haven't you watched them long enough to think it out?"

"Y-e-s, I believe I have," said Dodo slowly. "I see a dear little bird about as big as a Chippy Sparrow, only fatter, and he is nice soft gray on top, about the color of my chinchilla muff. He has a black cap on his head, that comes down behind where his ears ought to be, fastened with a wide black strap across his throat, and his face is a very clean white, and his breast, too. That is, it is white in the middle, but the sides and below are a warmer color--sort of rusty white. And that's all, except that he's as fidgety as ever he can be," ended Dodo, quite out of breath with her haste to tell all she could before the bird flew away.

"Do you think you will remember the Chickadee, while he is in the deep woods nesting this summer, so that you will know him again in the autumn?"

Dodo and Nat said they were quite sure they would, but Rap said: "I've known him ever so long, only the miller called him a 'black-capped titmouse.' Isn't he a relation of the Nuthatch, Doctor?"

"Yes, a second cousin, and Black-capped Titmouse is one of his right names. They used to belong to the very same family, but they had a little falling out, and are not now so intimate as they were before each went his own way, and acquired some different habits."

"I thought they were alike in a good many things," said Rap, "and their nests are something alike, too."

The Chickadee

Length about five inches.

Upper parts ashy gray.

Head, back of neck, and throat, shining black.

Cheeks pure white.

Middle of breast white; sides and belly buffy.

A Citizen of the eastern United States.

A Tree Trapper.

THE BROWN CREEPER

"Another bird that, like the Nuthatch, spends his days peeping into the cracks of tree bark in search of food. He is not a relation of the Nuthatch, but a lonely bird and the only one of his family in this part of the world.

"He does not advertise his whereabouts as freely as do the Woodpeckers and other tree-trunk birds, so you will have to keep a sharp lookout to find him. In the first place he is nearly the same color as the brown and gray bark upon which he creeps, the white under parts being quite hidden, and his call, which is the only note that is commonly heard, is only a little sharp squeaky 'screek, screek,' given as he winds his way up and around a tree-trunk, in the same way as a person would go up a circular staircase.

"You may catch sight of a brown object moving as swiftly as a mouse, and before you have made up your mind what it is he will have gone round the other side of the tree. But the Creeper has one habit that will some day give you a good chance to look at him. When he wishes to remain still a moment, he spreads his tail with its stiff pointed feathers and props himself by it against the tree. This is your opportunity."

"Does the Creeper stay here all summer?" asked Nat. "And doesn't he sing a song like the other birds when he makes his nest?"

"He is not a Citizen hereabouts; he likes a cooler climate and makes his home near and across the northern border of the United States. We shall see him in the autumn, when he has become a wanderer through the country. If the trees are not coated with ice, a little flock may stay here all winter, while others drift further south."

"Then we shan't hear him sing or see his nest--have you ever seen it, Uncle Roy?"

"Yes, my boy, and it was the beauty of his little song that made me stop one day, in going through an old pine wood, and search for the singer. The song was very strange and wild, unlike any other I had ever heard. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, I saw that my old friend, the Brown Creeper, was the musician. At the same time he flew to one of the pine trees and seemed to disappear inside of it. I watched awhile until the bird flew out, and, climbing to the spot, saw that the nest was squeezed in a sort of pocket between the loose bark and the tree itself. You see, like the Chickadee and Nuthatch, he loves trees so well that he tries to creep as close to their hearts as he possibly can."

"Would you call this Creeper mostly a winter bird?" asked Dodo. "I'm going to remember the winter birds by themselves and write them in my book, because there will be fewer of them."

"Yes," said the Doctor, "at least a winter bird in places where we mostly see him; but you know that every bird must be a summer bird somewhere."

The Brown Creeper

Length five and a half inches.

Upper parts mixed brown, white, and buff.

A plain brown tail, and a light-buff band on the wings.

Under parts white, without any marks.

Bill very sharp and slender, curved like a surgeon's needle.

A Summer Citizen of northern North America.

A Tree Trapper.