Part 10

When birds come in the spring, and leave in the fall, they rear their young where they make their summer home. We call them our summer birds.

Our winter birds are those which come to us in the cold weather, do not build nests near us, but fly away when the season grows warm. While they stay near us, they take shelter at night in shrubs or evergreen trees.

What we call birds of passage are birds that stop with us for only a few days, as they are flying long distances, half round the world, perhaps.

Then there are birds, as the robin, sparrow, thrush, which may stay all the year round near one place. In the warm weather they build nests, and rear their young. In cold weather, such birds are often driven near houses and barns to get food.

Crows may stay all winter in one place if food is plenty. If they cannot find enough to eat, they gather in great numbers, and fly to places where they will get more food.

When I was a child, I read that swallows, cuckoos, corn-crakes, and other birds, would lie torpid all winter. The book I read told me that the birds would cluster in great masses, silent, nearly frozen, eating nothing, and in the spring would wake up fresh and gay. That is not at all true. They do not lie torpid. They fly away.

Birds gather in great numbers, with much noise and flurry, to get ready for a trip. Crows, storks, cranes, swallows, and others, fly in great flocks. By the sea-side you may hear a far-off cry and a rush of wings, and looking up, you may see a flock of wild geese, or ducks, on their journey, flying far out over the water.

When a vast flock moves in this way, they seem to have some few wise old birds for guides, in advance, and some for guards on each side of the band. Geese fly in a =V=-shaped line, for hours at a time. When they need to stop for food, they break the =V= line and fly in disorder. They seem to search the ground for a feeding place. A cornfield suits them best, and they settle for a feast. If they cannot find a cornfield they will try a swamp.

Hawks travel over half the world. The hawk, which summers on the Scotch hills, may go to Egypt for winter, and perch on the pyramids. The stork, which the little Dutch children in Holland feed and love, may go to Africa for Christmas. The birds which you feed in July will be singing in Hayti or Brazil in January.

What is very strange is, that birds will, year after year, come back to the very place and nest that they left. The oriole, catbird, bluebird, jay, titmouse, and others, will each summer return to the same vine or tree, to build a new nest or repair the old one.

They come singing back, and we are glad to see them. But from their songs we get no news of the fair tropic lands where they have been happy amid rich fruits and flowers.

LESSON XXXII.

NEST BUILDING.

I think nothing about birds is more interesting than their way of building their nests. In this lesson we will look at a few curious nest-builders.

First, let me tell you that that largest of birds, the ostrich, builds no nest. She puts her eggs in the sand. The sun-heat is all they need during the day, and the father-bird cares for them at night. A few birds lay their eggs in heaps of dead leaves, and let the leaves keep them warm.

The cuckoo,[26] and the cow-bird[27] lay their eggs in the nest of some other bird. They choose a bird smaller than themselves, and put one egg in its nest. Then they go to another nest, and so on, until their eggs are laid.

A few birds lay their eggs right on the earth, or sand, and make no nest at all. But they sit on the eggs, and brood them. Most birds make nice, careful nests. They seem to take pride in building good homes.

A lady who has carefully studied the ways of birds, says that all birds of a kind do not build equally good nests. For instance, some robins build very strong, neat nests. Others build loose, untidy nests, which will hardly hold the eggs.

This same lady says that birds, by practice, improve in nest building. As a rule, she thinks the old birds, that have built for several years, make better nests than robins building for their first brood. She says she watched a robin, which had a home in her garden. That robin improved in nest building, and built better and better each year.

Perhaps no bird builds a more firm, neat, and elegant nest, than that smallest of all,--the humming-bird. This bird does not need a large nest, she is so tiny, and her eggs, usually only two, are like small beans. The nest is made in the shape of a cup. It is built of soft moss, or the downy seeds of plants. These are pressed and moulded until they are almost like felt.

The nest is made quite thick. All over the outside, the bird fastens bits of moss, or lichens. These are stuck on with a kind of glue, from the bird’s mouth. This is done, not so much for beauty, as to conceal the nest. When thus pasted over with moss, it looks like a knot or bit of tree branch.

This tiny bird is very shy, and wishes to hide its nest. It is so cunningly built, that even when close by it you are little likely to see it.

The bird does not fly straight to, or from, this nest. That might lead enemies there. Instead, it rises high, straight up into the air, and when up out of sight, takes its direction as it chooses. When it comes back, it pursues a similar plan. From far up in the air, above the nest, it drops straight down, like a little fiery star, into its home.

The goldfinch is another bird which glues mosses on the outside of its nest to hide it. While this is done rather for use than beauty, I think most birds like to have a pretty home. I have seen birds weave bits of colored wool, or silk, in and out the nest, plainly for the sake of the color, and not for strength.

All the finch family line their nest with down or feathers. The wood-wren, on the contrary, lines its nest always with hair, and never with feathers. She goes far and wide to find soft hairs for this use.

I think an oriole’s nest is one of the most beautiful of bird-homes. The mother-oriole makes the nest, and her mate brings her wool, fine root-fibres, hairs and threads, which she uses. If he brings her a bit which she does not like, she throws it away, and seems to think him a bird of very little sense.

If Mrs. Oriole is not suited with her work, as it goes on, she tears it down, and goes to work again. She wants it just right.

The nest is in the shape of a long pocket, and is sewed firmly to some twigs on the end of a branch. It is very curious to see the stitches which are taken in and out, with string, or long horse-hairs. The nest is tied firmly to the tree, and is woven very firmly together. It is lined with downy seeds. The entrance is small and near the top, and the nest is larger at the bottom, where the young birds will lie.

The tailor-bird sews even better than the oriole. She takes a large leaf, bends the edges against those of a leaf near, and carefully sews them together, with bits of fibre for thread, while her bill is the needle. When this leaf-purse is made, the cunning little mother fills it half full of cotton-like down, from plants, and her home is made. Sometimes she chooses a large leaf, and sews its edges together.

The object of these nests is to have them hung far out, where snakes cannot get at the eggs or young. For you must know that snakes are cruel enemies of birds.

The house-sparrow likes to build her nest under overhanging eaves. If she builds where she has not a roof of that kind, she makes a roof for herself, of straw.

Many birds, as the woodpecker, titmouse, and others, find a hole in a tree, and put in a soft lining. This makes a very nice, safe home.

The golden-crested wren makes a most lovely nest of mosses, woven firmly together with spiders’ webs and cobwebs. It is very delicate and pretty.

Just the opposite of this is a magpie’s nest. That is a large platform of coarse twigs, and over it a roof, quite as large, of twigs, while all around it the magpie sets up a thorn fence. You would hardly think a bird could build such a house.

Once I found the nest of the song thrush. It was large, and made of grass, straw, and such things, all firmly plastered with mud. It was nearly as smooth inside as a china bowl. I wondered that this little bird could build such a large, heavy nest.

Many birds which live near the water build their nests among the tall reeds. They will bind three or four reeds together, with the nest hung between them.

No doubt you have often found the neat little round nest of the bluebirds, or yellow-birds, nicely woven of hairs, and made smooth and soft inside. Sometimes their soft, smooth nests are woven of fine, soft fibres. It is wonderful how fine and clean they are, after the little busy bird has made them ready for her home.

Many birds build in clefts of rocks, or under large overhanging stones by the water-side. Their chief thought seems to be, to have the nest safely hidden. Other birds build right on the ground. Have you never found a lark’s nest, low among daisies, grass and buttercups?

Last summer I found two nests of the meadow pipit, or peewee. They were built of dry grass in a hollow, shaded by some bramble-berry bushes and big dandelions. I had one of these nests drawn for the cover of this Reader. It was a very pretty bower, and the little birds grew up safely.

Most birds build each one alone, but in Africa the weaver-bird lives in colonies. The nests are built like very large wasps’ nests. Sometimes one or two hundred birds will build in one place. They make a roof for the nest.

I began by telling you of very little nests. I will end by telling you of a very big nest. I saw the nest of a fishing eagle, in a great pine-tree. The nest was built of large sticks. It was nearly as large as a half barrel. The tree was dead. A tree always dies when an eagle builds in it. This nest was more like a great rough platform than a nest. It had a wall of sticks about it to keep the little eaglets from falling out before their feathers grew.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] The cuckoo in England lays in the nests of _other birds. The American cuckoo does not._

[27] The cow-bird is also called the cow-bunting.

LESSON XXXIII.

THE BIRD AT HOME.

You have now seen the bird building a nest, and you have seen the finished nest. Let us take a little look at the bird at home. Let us have a peep at the family life of birds.

The mother-bird lays two, four, six, or more eggs in her nest. Each kind of bird has its own kind of eggs. The wood-pigeon has a pure white egg; the blackbird’s egg is a bluish green, with russet spots; the cuckoo’s egg is of a yellowish tint with red and brown marks; the kingfisher’s egg is yellow with orange spots; the robin’s egg is a lovely greenish blue. Some eggs have purple spots, some are brown with red spots.

Each bird knows its own eggs. Sometimes a lazy cow-bird puts her eggs in the nest of a wren or bluebird, while that bird is away looking for food. When the bird comes home, she knows at once the strange egg in her nest. She scolds and cries. But, in the end, she takes care of it.

When eggs are put into a nest in this way, it is the strange egg which thrives. The cow-bird hatches before the eggs among which it lies. Then the mother-bird at once begins to feed her adopted child, and her own eggs are left and do not hatch.

The young cuckoo is so big and strong that it pushes its foster brothers and sisters out of the nest, and lives there alone. The good mother-bird, perhaps only a little sparrow, tires herself out bringing insects for the wide-open beak of her big, greedy child.

The mother-bird is very patient all the long days, or weeks, while she must sit brooding her eggs. If you go near her, she may fly off, or she may cower close over her eggs, and look at you in a very timid way. I am sure you will hurry past, and not terrify the dear little thing.

When the mother-bird must go away, to stretch her wings in flight, or to get food, the father-bird takes her place. While she is on the nest, he often brings her something good to eat. He sits on some branch near and sings to her. He watches to see if any snake or squirrel, or other enemy, is coming near. Then he often flies down, and scolds, or pecks at the foe to drive it off.

I am sorry to tell you that the handsome blue jay is very cruel to other birds. He often tears up their nests, breaks their eggs, or kills their little ones, for the mere sake of doing it. The eggs of smaller birds, he carries to his own nestlings for food. I knew a lady who saw a jay bring three small eggs to his nest. He carried them in his bill.

One summer, a pair of woodpeckers built in a tall flag-pole near my house. They had cut out a nice round hole in the pole, and dug a deep place for a nest. Several times each day the father-bird took his turn on the nest, while the mother-bird went off to a swamp to get food.

It was curious to watch the nest-cleaning each night. The birds took up refuse from the nest in their claws, and flew off some distance before they dropped it.

When the little birds came from the shell, the old ones were very busy, going and coming several times each hour, with food.

It was funny to see them at night-fall. The father-bird took his place, clinging high up on the pole, like a watchman on a tower, to take a final look, and see if all was right. The mother-bird, at the same time, put her handsome head out of the hole, and stretched her neck, as if to take a look from her window before she went to bed.

When the birds were fledged, there was a grand time teaching them to fly. They were taken to a roof near by, where they sprawled about. Then they would be coaxed to make a little flight. The parents flew low and slowly before them. Great was the joy, if one of the little things flew a few yards. The old birds seemed to think that they had never before seen quite such nice flying! Then the father-bird stood proudly before them, to give them a lesson in drumming, that is, in pecking at wood, to break it up, to find grubs or insects hidden in it. He seemed to say, “Look at me!” Then he braced his feet and tail,[28] held his head on one side, and gave a number of swift, strong blows on my porch roof. He would drum, and then look at the little ones to imitate him.

Then they flew over the way, and the father seemed to say, “Now for another lesson in drumming!” At it he went. But that house had a _tin roof_. He could not make the splinters fly!

He tried again. It was of no use. Then he looked much surprised. He eyed the roof, and tried once more. The little birds looked on.

But the father-bird failed again. Instead of a long, deep roll of sound, there was only a sharp rattle; no chips, no grubs! He seemed much ashamed. His wings and his tail drooped. Away he flew to the pole, and sat there very sad. He seemed to be thinking how much better houses grew when he was young!

The hole of these birds, in the pole, was tinned over after they left. They returned next year, and cut a hole lower down. That was covered with tin in the fall. Next spring, they came back, and cut a hole higher up. They did this for five years.

Finally the pole had to be taken down as dangerous, it was so cut up.

Woodpeckers are not the only good bird parents. You can see how kind and careful mother-birds are, if you watch the hens in the farm-yard. Do you see them lead their little chicks out? They scratch the earth, and call the chicks to come and pick up food. When a hawk appears, the hen cries out, and spreads her wings wide, to shelter her chicks.

When it rains, or when the little ones are tired, or at night, the hen calls them to rest under her wide, warm wings.

If you watch a pair of robins raising a brood, you will wonder to see how many times in an hour they go and come, bringing food. When the little ones are fledged, notice how they are taught to fly. You may, also, see the father bird giving his little ones a lesson in singing.

When one of the young birds is weaker than the rest, one of the parents will leave the others, and give all the time to teaching and helping that weak one.

A bluebird in my garden, lost, by one trouble and another, all her brood but one. That one the parent birds were teaching to fly. It rested on the gravel walk, while the old birds sat on the fence, and called it.

A boy of three years, seeing the young bird, went up close to look at it. The father bluebird flew close over the child’s head scolding. As the child got near the young bird, the old bird flew upon the child’s head and pulled his hair with its beak!

The little boy ran screaming back to me. The young bluebird lifted his wings, and flew with his parents into a bush. Was not the father bluebird brave? The child, though only three years old, was many times bigger than the bird.

I told you how the birds cleaned their nests. Birds are neat creatures. You notice that their feathers are bright and clean. Have you seen how much they prune or dress them?

Birds are very fond of a bath. If you set a basin or pan of clean, fresh water, on the grass, among shrubs or trees, you will see many birds going to it to take a bath. They splash the water about in fine style. When the young birds are fledged, they will be brought to your basin to have a wash.

When birds roll or whirl in dust or sand, it is not that they like dirt; they are having a sand bath. The sand flirted in and out among their plumage takes out grease and little insects and dirt. Then they shake off all the sand.

FOOTNOTES:

[28] Notice that the woodpecker uses its stiff pointed tail feathers to brace its body when it rises to the full length of its legs to aid it in giving a heavy blow, as it draws down its legs and dashes its beak into the tree with the force of all its weight.

LESSON XXXIV.

THE BIRDS OF SONG.

The woods and the fields would be very dull and silent without the song of the birds. Even the shrill chirp of the sparrow is a pleasant sound to hear. It gives us an idea of happy life.

We will now talk a little about our best song birds. Let us take the catbird first, as that is common in all parts of the country. It is a pretty drab and black bird, about nine inches long.

Tom said to me, “A catbird cannot sing; it gets its name because it squalls like a cat.” True, Tom, the bird has that harsh note for you, and to frighten off snakes and other enemies. But you listen to him when he sits in the shade, and sings to himself, or makes his best song for Mrs. Catbird.

Ah, there is a song for you! Mellow and full, and rich as the tones of a mocking-bird! Now he trills, now he whistles, now he imitates the songs of all the sweetest singers of the wood. He can almost outdo the mocking-bird. He sits in his shady covert, and seems to be laughing at all the other singers, as he borrows their music.

First, he breaks out into the oriole’s song; then he calls like a jay; next he chatters like a sparrow; then he whistles like a thrush; then he gives you a little warble from the bluebird’s music-book. In every song he gives exactly the notes he copies.

A pair of catbirds built in a honeysuckle by my window. I found they were very loving birds. At a cry of pain from Mrs. Catbird or the little ones, the father-bird would come flying back, almost in fits with distress.

He would fly round and round to seek the cause of their trouble. If he found any enemy, which he could not drive away, he called so loudly and sadly that all the birds near came in haste to help him.

The catbird is one of the bravest of the feathered race. He will fight and drive off a snake. I have seen him defend his home against a jay, a crow, or a squirrel.

A near relative of the catbird is the blackbird. This is a gay and happy creature. All the warm weather it pipes sweetly, as it flies here and there. The red-wing, or colonel blackbird, lives in swamps. The green-breasted blackbird likes a drier home.

Blackbirds are social in their habits. You seldom see one or two alone. If you see one near your home, you will soon see or hear more. They build their nests early in the spring. Young blackbirds are among the first birds fledged in a season.

The nest is large, and often lined with mud. When the mud dries, the nest is like a rude cup. Then a soft lining is put in for a bed. In this nest are laid five eggs of a blue-gray color, dashed with red or brown.

The blackbird is very brave, and will drive a cat or a snake from his home. I have seen him chase a squirrel from his tree.

Pleasant as is the blackbird’s note, he cannot rival the thrush. Among all our birds of song, I think the thrush is best known and best loved. This is a small bird, of dusky brown and white, the under part of its body being yellowish white, with black spots. These birds are fond of woody places, and live alone or in pairs. During the middle of the day they are silent.

If you wish to hear the thrush at his best, listen to him in the early morning, or about sundown, when he takes his place on the top twig of the tallest tree he can find. He begins with a clear, sweet sound, like a German flute. Next he trills some notes like the tinkle of a chime of silver bells. Then he pours out a full, rich song, and repeats it several times.

Soon you will hear some other thrush, from another tall tree, answer him. They seem to try which can sing the best. They keep up the concert until the stars come out, and the fireflies flit among the grasses.

The food of the thrush is insects and berries. While he chooses a high place to sing from, he builds low. He finds a laurel or alder bush which is hung with some kind of wild vine, as the Virginia creeper. There he piles up a quantity of withered beech-leaves. On these he makes a nest of grass, plastered with mud. It is lined with fine root-fibres. In this nest are laid four or five light-blue eggs, without spots or marks.

Often, if you follow the windings of a shaded brook, you may see the thrush playing along above the waters.

When the thrush migrates, he travels by day, and rests at night. When he alights to sleep, he erects his tail-feathers, and ruffles up the feathers on his head. Then he gives a few low calls, hops along the branches, and bends his head down to peep below, and see if all is safe for the night. In fact, from first to last, the song-thrush is a dear and well-behaved little bird.

LESSON XXXV.

THE OTHER PARTNER.

You know I told you that the flowers had gone into business, and taken the birds and insects for their partners. Now these partners are not good friends to each other. In fact, the bird partner is given to eating up the insect partner.

We will now look at some birds that prefer insects to any other food. But these, like all birds, will change their diet and eat almost anything if very hungry.

Our first bird shall be the “nuthatch.” It has been given this name because people think it can crack nuts. No doubt it can crack beech and hazel nuts, and chestnuts. Its object is not to get the meat of the nut, but the grubs that lie in it.

The nuthatch is of a light bluish-gray color, with some white and black in its feathers. It is not much larger than a thrush.

Early in April, the nuthatch finds a hole in a tree, or in a fence rail or an old roof. There he makes a nest by piling up dead leaves and any soft wool or hairs he can find.

In this nest are laid five white eggs, with brown spots on one end. While the mother bird sits on these eggs, the mate spends all his time near her. If any danger comes, he flies to the nest. He hunts for nice fat grubs and worms, and takes them to the sitting bird to eat.