Part 22

Late in April the large flocks dissolve into smaller ones. It is a common thing to see two males and one female in company, the former lavishing the most endearing attentions upon the latter, and both, simultaneously, regaling her with the sweetest music. Thus affairs go on for some time, when, out of pure mischief, she selects one of the suitors, and just as he begins to feel his bosom glow with self-satisfied pride, she turns her back upon him, and flies to the other, who all the while has been pouring his soul away in the ecstasies of song. These cruel flirtations are kept up for a couple of days before a final choice is effected. It seems to require great effort and condescension upon the part of the successful suitor to retain his hold upon her affections; for she is likely to waver in the interval of time between mating and nidification, and give her heart to another. The labors of nest-building so completely engross her thoughts, that the tendency to flirtation has not time to manifest itself, and soon disappears altogether.

The wedded couple, however, do not seem to be in much haste about nesting, but ramble over the country in search of food, ever and anon, as though seeking rest from labor, perching upon a tree-branch, where the male pours into the ear of his less-favored partner, with all the impassioned eloquence of his being, the story of his love. While thus engaged, he is wont to turn towards the object of his affection, as if to ascertain the effects of his well-chosen roundelay. A low, soft note, expressed by the dissyllabic word _twë-yah_, is her only response of recognition and approval. The song of the male is very difficult to convey in human language. It is loud and clear in intonation, and rivals the variously modulated strains of the Canary. Like the latter he has the faculty of lowering and raising the voice, so that one moment the notes seem borne from a great distance on the wings of gently-murmuring zephyrs, while the very next they ring out upon the air with tenfold greater volume of tone and intensity. In confinement he becomes exceedingly familiar and tractable, and with proper care soon becomes a valuable singer. A friend of ours once possessed a male which he reared from the nest.

This bird was taught to keep time with the lateral movements of the index finger, and to increase and decrease the volume of sound with the elevation and depression of the same. In a state of repose a simple _twe_, uttered softly and slowly at measured intervals, is its only note. While pillaging the garden these birds give expression to sounds which Nuttall has likened to _'mày-bê, 'mây-bê_. In their quarrels, which commonly occur when small parties are on the wing, there is heard one loud, confused medley of discordant chirpings, which seems, as a recent writer once remarked, as though some were pleading for peace, while the others were clamorous for the fray.

About the fifteenth of June, sometimes as early as the middle of the preceding month, the birds settle down to the business which has brought them together. Some time is spent in the selection of a suitable tree, and in fixing upon a position. One tree after another is visited, before one is found which combines the requisites of shelter, security and convenience. When the birds make up their minds to build in an orchard, a pear-tree is usually their choice. In other situations a seeming preference is manifested for the maple and willow. Perhaps, any tree where numerous small branches radiate, nearly in the same circle, from a common stem, will be found to be available. The height of the nest above the ground is usually about fifteen feet. Occasionally, greater elevations are taken. Sometimes a horizontal branch with divergent twigs is chosen, instead of one that is nearly vertical.

Than the nest of the Thistle Bird, as this species is sometimes called, no more beautiful structure of the basket in form and the felted in texture is known to exist. In shape it is symmetrical, delicately and neatly woven, and skilfully and securely fastened to the forked twigs between which it is placed. In beauty of design, and elegance of finish, it is a perfect model of architectural skill. A structure before us from Philadelphia may be considered as typical. It is placed in a crotch, and held _in situ_ by four small nearly upright branches, which are partially wrought into the fabric. The outside is composed of the tassels of the common chestnut, stems of knotweed, leaves, fragments of fungus, interwoven with an excess of flax-like fabrics and vegetable wool. The inside is lined with divers shreds of dandelion and thistle, neatly and compactly felted. The external diameter and height are each two and a half inches, and the cavity two at the rim and the same in depth.

A nest from Union County, Pa., nearly two hundred miles distant from the former locality, varies materially in size and in the character of composing materials. When found it was placed between two horizontal twigs joined at right angles to another, to which it was firmly attached by hempen fibres. On the right of the nest further security was afforded by a vertical twig, to which it was bound by similar cords. Fine roots of grasses, spiders' webs, cotton string, twisted and untwisted yellowish hempen cords, nicely and evenly felted, constituted the exterior. Within there was a lining of yellow rootlets and white horse-hairs, the latter in excess. The nest is hemispherical, and measures three inches in width, and the same in height. The cavity is two inches in diameter and of equal depth. This nest was discovered about the fifteenth of August, and contained a brood of tender fledglings.

Another fabric is somewhat exceptional in position. It rests upon a horizontal limb, and is still further supported by three inclined twigs on the one side, to which it is fastened by strings and the ravellings of colored cottony fabrics. The exterior is made of raw cotton, animal wool, hempen strings, vegetable fibres, rootlets of grasses, rather ingeniously interwoven. Interiorly there is a strange commingling of wool and horsehairs. The bottom of the cavity is hardly covered, the twig which forms the basis of the structure being clearly discernible. in external diameter it measures two and a half inches, and in depth but two; the width and depth of the cavity are identical, being about one and three-fourths inches.

In New England, according to Samuels, the nest of this species is built of soft strips of the cedar and grape-vine bark, which are elaborately woven into a compact structure around a deep hollow, which is softly lined with the down of thistles, and, occasionally, with a few feathers.

After the completion of the nest, which ordinarily requires the united efforts of both birds for six days to accomplish, the female, on the following day, begins to deposit her eggs. These to the number of five are laid at the rate of one a day. Incubation commences on the day subsequent to the last deposit, and lasts for ten days. This duty devolves exclusively upon the female. The only part which the male performs is the indirect one of providing his companion with suitable nourishment. When not thus engaged he cheers the tedium of her task by an agreeable ditty. By some writers he is considered more of a dandy than a family man, as he spends the greater portion of his time with his fellows in the pursuit of food, in the arrangement of his toilet, or in the pleasures of the bath. Our experience is different. While he takes no direct part in the incubating process, his affection for his mate, and his constant desire to please her, prove him to be, in every sense, a model companion. When their home is assailed, he does not sneak away, and allow his partner to bear the brunt of the battle to be waged in its defence, but comes boldly to the front, and with loud clamors, angry gesticulations, and wide open jaws, unites with her to expel the intruder. Where frequent interferences occur, the birds are often forced to forsake their nest, and seek other quarters. This perhaps will account for the fact that nests with eggs are sometimes found as late as the fifteenth of July, and others with young birds during the last week of August. Such delays are doubtless of common occurrence.

The destruction of a nest while incubation is progressing, most generally leads to the renewal of the attempt in some other place. The desire for offspring will often be found to triumph over the most insuperable difficulties. We have known instances where the same pair had been thwarted four times in succession, and as often renewed the attempt. An unfortunate male or female may sometimes be doomed to lead the life of a celibate, by reason of the scarcity of individuals of the opposite sex. Perhaps an event has occurred which has altered the status of affairs. A male has died, and his partner is compelled to break up house-keeping, or seek another. If she does the latter, her companion may be a widower, or one that has been unable to enter into matrimonial relations for the reasons already assigned. Not willing to father the responsibilities of another, the old home, and its once precious charges if there be any, must be abandoned, and another domicile constructed and peopled. The mating being effected, a suitable spot chosen, a home prepared, and the subsequent duties of oviposition and incubation successfully passed through, all of which requiring time, it is not remarkable that nests should be found so late in the season.

Coming back from this necessary digression, the young are from eleven to twelve days old when they leave the nest. The addition of a week or ten days to this period finds them sufficiently matured to attend to their own wants. At first they are fed by the parents upon various soft-bodied insects, which they glean from the branches and foliage of trees, but later on, butterflies and various species of andrena and halictus are brought to them. When able to provide for themselves, they consort with their parents, and subsist with them on various kinds of seeds and berries.

The young do not acquire their full plumage until the following spring. Their characteristic dress in the fall nearly resembles that of the adult female. It is reddish-olive above, and fulvous-yellow below. Across the coverts there are to be seen two broad bands, and broad edges of pale rufus to the last half of the secondaries. The female is yellowish-gray above, greenish-yellow below, and is devoid of the black on the forehead. The adult male has a bright gamboge-yellow dress, which is in a great measure relieved of its sameness by the black crown, wings and tail. A still further variegation is noticeable in the lesser wing-coverts, lower edges of the greater ones, ends of secondaries and tertiaries, inner margins of tail-feathers, upper and lower tail-coverts, and tibia, which are white. In the winter a yellowish-brown color replaces the yellow, the wings and tail become browner, and the black of the crown is lacking. The under parts take on an ashy-brown hue, which passes into white behind, and yellowish along the throat. The entire length of the mature birds is five and a quarter inches, while that of the wing is three.

The eggs of this species, when fresh, are white, with a slight roseate tinge. In blown specimens they show a faint bluish hue. Their nearest counterparts are Lawrence's Goldfinch, from which they are scarcely distinguishable. They are usually four in number, although five sometimes occur, and in shape are oval. Their dimensions vary even in the same nest-full. Specimens from New England vary from .68 by .53 to .63 by 50 inches. Others from California measure .60 by 50. Pennsylvania eggs have an average measurement of .66 by .53. Considerable diversity of opinion exists as to the number of broods annually raised. Nuttall alleges that they raise two, but seems to base his assertion upon the fact that nests are found from the first of July to the middle of September, which in our estimation is wholly accounted for by explanations given above. The mass of writers, however, differ from him, and believe the species to raise but a single brood annually. In Pennsylvania and New Jersey, we can safely say that not a single case has occurred to us of double-broodedness.

It may be thought strange that these birds should, as a rule, be so dilatory in their movements, so far as the assumption of matrimonial relations is concerned, being even behind the generality of our Warblers, which are not so well-adapted to the climate as they An explanation of the matter has been attempted by Dr. Brewer. He seems to think that the cause is attributable to the scarcity of proper aliment for the young in early summer. The greater abundance of insects found in July, especially in their larval stages, which must necessarily constitute a fair percentage of their diet at first, would seem to contradict such a statement. Our experience goes to show that more nests with young birds are found from the middle of June to about the tenth of July than at any subsequent period, just at the time when insect life riots in luxuriance.

Plate XLII.--BUTORIDES VIRESCENS, (Linn.) Baird.--Green Heron.

|Contemned by man, and characterized by the most inappropriate and disgusting nickname, with which almost every one who is conversant with the species must be familiar, our subject asks nothing at the hands of humankind, but rather avoids cultivated scenes, and seems to thrive best where civilization has neither sown nor reaped. Within the precincts of grassy pools and almost impenetrable morasses, where dangerous odors exhale, and myriads of slimy creatures drag their slow lengths along, or startle the shades of night with their bass murmuring? the Green Heron delights to dwell. Here he pursues his craft in the society of his friends and near relatives.

Early in April the birds reach the Middle Atlantic States, from their Southern marshy homes, and soon afterwards are found in New England, and other portions to the westward. Their limit in this direction is somewhat circumscribed. The silence of writers upon the subject conduces to the inference that they are not found west of the Rocky Mountains, and the absence of mention by the parties connected with the different government expeditions, shows that they are not to be met with in regions which they visited. In the extreme southern and eastern parts of the region of the Missouri, however, they are to be met with. McIlwraith observed them in Canada West; and in the West Indies, Mexico, and from Central America to Venezuela, they are known to abound. They are mentioned by Gosse in his explorations, and Cory saw them in abundance, during the breeding-season, in the Bahamas. It is possible that many of these denizens of tropical countries migrate to the United States, and associate with their northern brethren that winter in our Southern States, and even pursue their journey to colder latitudes.

For nearly a month after its arrival the Heron is a solitary feeder, and seems to care for naught but the gratification of appetite. Knee-deep in some small stagnant stream or pool, or in the midst of sylvan glade or reedy marsh, he may be seen awaiting his prey. His movements are characterized by remarkable artfulness and skill. The extreme caution evinced by the game he seeks, and its facility to elude pursuit, presuppose the possession of a nicety of address, and of celerity of action. When on the lookout for minnows, and other small fish, he takes up his position by the side of the ditch, and with his long-reaching neck contracted over his breast, prepared for duty, he waits, in statue-like repose, the appearance thereof. The keen, flashing eye bespeaks the anxiety reigning within. He has not long to watch. Soon a luckless little fellow approaches the bank cautiously, when, with one stroke of the bill, as unerring and sudden as that of the blow of a rattlesnake, he is transfixed, and ere he has time to contemplate the condition of affairs, is swallowed entire. Worms, aquatic larvæ and small crabs are eagerly hunted, and captured with wonderful adroitness. It is, however, when in quest of frogs, that he displays the exceeding cunning of which he is capable. These subtle, wary creatures are difficult to surprise, and plunge into the water and mire on the slightest noise or alarm. A few moments elapse before they are sufficiently assured to venture to the surface again, but when they are, the movement is always performed with great caution and circumspection. While the frog is recovering from its fright, the Heron is laying his plans on the oozy flat above. Fixing his penetrating gaze upon the spot where his game disappeared, he steals slowly forward, and patiently awaits the first appearance of the bronzy head, at the sight of which, with almost lightning-like movement, he deals the unfortunate blow; the squirming, wriggling mass of matter is jerked from its watery bath, only to be dashed to death upon stones, and eaten at leisure.

The life of the Heron is not the dull, prosy, slavish one which many writers have pictured, as it is always attended with a certain amount of excitement which gives spice and zest thereto. The abundance of reptilian and other life to be found in places which these birds visit, and the comparative ease with which it is seemingly obtained, render existence a pleasure rather than a burden. They are not the over-anxious, indigent race of beings which their general appearance would lead us to suspect. Living in the midst of plenty, although unsurrounded by green bowers and luscious viands, such as lure their apparently better favored brethren--the rich, gifted oscines--they are pleased with their lot, and doubtless would scorn to exchange it for others. Their lean, lank natures, as commonly supposed, have nothing whatever to do with the character of their surroundings, but are a wise and fitting illustration of the law of design which is everywhere to be seen in Nature.

Of all our Herons, this species displays the least shyness. When disturbed, it mounts upward with a hollow, guttural cry, but soon alights, cranes its neck, and if danger is not threatening, settles back into its usual quiescent state. Either while walking or standing, on such occasions, it is noticed to jet the tail, a habit which it indulges in at somewhat regular periods. In addition to the ordinary scream, other notes are emitted, which resemble the syllables _'k'w, 'k'w, 'k'w_. These succeed the others so closely that they may be considered a part of the same call-note of alarm.

Many birds usher in the dawn of the matrimonial period with music. But such is not the case with the present species. To be sure there may be heard the same cries with which it is wont to greet intruding footsteps. The principal indications of its return may be noticed in the preference which the sexes have for each other, and in their endearing behavior. They no longer seek to dwell apart. A week at most is thus spent, when the friendship formed invariably ripens into the stronger feeling of love. This ordinarily happens from the twentieth of April to about the tenth of May. Having mated, the party start off in search of a swampy woods, where, among the branches of some tree, they place their rude domicile.

Some live apart, but the rule is to dwell in companies. It is common to find them and the Night Heron living together on friendly terms.

The nest is entirely built of sticks, with finer ones on the inside, is the work of both birds, and occupies but a short time in building, usually not more than two days. The eggs are deposited at the rate of one a day, chiefly on consecutive days. Incubation commences shortly after the eggs are laid, and is mainly the result of the female, who, for nearly eighteen days, is a very assiduous sitter. While she is thus occupied the male is a faithful guardian and protector. He administers to her his choicest captures, and warns her of coming danger. When the nest is molested both birds hover near the tree, but beyond the reach of danger, and by the most deafening screams, seek to drive away the assailant, but they never venture upon an attack. If the nest has been despoiled, they immediately set to work to repair it; or, if rifled of its treasures, do not long bewail the loss, but proceed to replenish it. Like most of its family, this species places the nest high up in tall trees, although instances have occurred where they were not more than twenty feet from the ground. The young birds are carefully attended and fed by the parents, and do not leave the nest until they are able to fly, which is the case when they are from four to five weeks old. Their food consists at first of worms, larvæ of dragon-flies and aquatic beetles. But as they increase in age, fresh-water crabs, lizards, frogs, grasshoppers, etc., are brought to them in large numbers. They do not mature until the next season. At first they have the head less crested than the adult. The back is devoid of the characteristic long plumes, but has the same glossy greenish color. The neck is simply reddish-brown, while the entire under parts have the white somewhat variegated with dark brown.

The eggs of these birds are from three to four in number, oblong-oval in form, and of a pale light-blue color. The largest egg in a set of four before us measures 1.55 inches in length, and 1.19 in width; the smallest 1.50 in length, and 1.13 in width. Throughout its entire range the species is single-brooded.

Plate XLIII.--CYANOCITTA CRISTATA, (Linn.) Strickl.--Blue Jay.

|This abundant, beautiful and familiar bird is a resident of the eastern half of North America, from the Atlantic west to Kansas, Eastern Nebraska and Dakota, and from Florida and Texas on the south to the 56th parallel of north latitude. Wherever met with it breeds in greater or less numbers, according as its presence is welcomed or rejected by the imperious lords of creation, and food is readily or with difficulty obtained.

Few species show more striking peculiarities of conduct, and none scarcely exhibit as much sagacity and intelligence. Within its natural haunts it is exceedingly shy and suspicious, and is hardly approachable. Frequent intercourse with man, however, has, in some sections, modified its disposition, and, as a necessary consequence, confidence has taken the place of distrust. This is substantiated by its tendency to nest in places contiguous to the dwellings of man. In Eastern Pennsylvania, a decade ago, it was quite a common occurrence to find a score of birds nesting in a square mile of territory, but, at the present time, the collector considers himself very fortunate if he encounters one-fifth of this number within the same area, and these only in localities whose solitude is seldom unbroken by the tread of human footsteps. In the wooded regions of Iowa, Mr. Allen found this species quite as trustful as the Black-capped Titmouse, and in Illinois, reduced to a semi-domesticated condition. Within the former State a pair of birds were found nidificating under the window of a house, in a lilac-bush, and this, too, in one of the most prominent and frequented streets of the town of Richmond.