Read Ebook: Bird Portraits by Hoffmann Ralph Commentator Seton Ernest Thompson Illustrator

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The swallows and swifts spend hours on the wing, turning to the right or to the left, upward or back, in pursuit of winged insects. Many other birds, notably the warbler family, take occasional flights after some insect which they have startled from the leaves. The habits of another large family of birds, the Flycatchers, are a compromise between these two methods of obtaining food. Selecting some post of observation, such as a dead limb, a fence, or the stalk of a stout weed, they wait patiently, keeping a sharp watch of the air about them. At sight of an insect flying near, they fly out in pursuit. If one is near enough to the bird, a click of its bill will announce the fate of the insect. The Flycatchers then return to the same or a neighboring perch.

The family is not, on the whole, very good-humored; in fact, they might justly be accused of irritability and pugnacity. The Kingbird, in particular, the head of the house, is noted for his constant attacks on any winged creature that approaches his nest. It must be admitted, however, that when nesting time is over, he lives very peaceably with his neighbors; but while the female is brooding the eggs or young, the excited cry of the male is constantly heard, and every Crow that comes in sight is pursued, sometimes for a mile. The Kingbird gets above his victim and darts down at its head; the Crow can be seen wincing at each vicious jab of the bill. One or two observers have actually seen the Kingbird ride on the Crow's back for some distance. The Kingbird has a patch of red concealed under the black feathers of his crown; when he is angry or excited, these red feathers blaze out. They are very rarely seen by men, but I imagine the Crows see them oftener than they like.

The Kingbird is a very satisfactory bird to beginners; the color pattern is so marked and the bird is so fond of exposed situations that it is seen and recognized without difficulty. Except the Cedarbird, whose tail is tipped with yellow, I know no other small bird of the eastern United States whose tail feathers are all tipped with a regular edge of light color. The Kingbird is the bird most commonly seen from a car window; in almost every field, the mullein stalks or wire fences will display one or more individuals, their white breasts or black and white tails showing conspicuously in the landscape.

The Kingbird has often been accused of destroying honeybees. Even allowing that individuals occasionally do some damage in this way, the good services of the race in destroying harmful insects far outweigh these injuries, and the remedy is to drive the bird away from the hives, not to kill it.

THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE

The arrival of the Orioles in the first week of May marks for many people the return of spring. The males come first and take possession at once of our streets and gardens, calling from the elms, or dashing into the cherry trees white with blossoms. The females arrive a day or two later, and the work of house-hunting begins soon after. In the selection of a nesting site, the judgment of the female alone is naturally allowed to have entire weight. The male is politely anxious, flying from twig to twig, as if recommending them; but the female knows that she must sit for days over her precious eggs, and be swung by all manner of storms, in whatever situation she finally selects; she means, therefore, to be sure before she builds.

The number of trees on which hang two nests, one evidently older than the other, is very noticeable, and probably means that the same pair return to the same tree to build. Many people have an idea that birds use the same nest in successive years, but it does not seem likely that such a skillful architect as the Oriole would patch up the old nest, when with a few days' labor she can build a new one, clean and strong, and very likely improved by her former experience. The materials used for the construction of the nest are tough, fibrous strips for the framework, and softer materials for the lining. The female often comes to the clothesline and twitches out some threads, and she is very thankful for twine or similar material hung out where she can find it. Lowell, who loved the Oriole next after the Bobolink, hung out gay-colored threads for his birds, and was rewarded with the sight of a brilliant nest.

The female builds at first a framework of strong material, which is attached to the several twigs on which the nest hangs. She actually ties knots of this material with her long sharp bill, thrusting the end of the thread through a loop, then reaching over and pulling it tight. Tragedies sometimes occur during this process, the bird becoming entangled in her own thread and choking or starving to death. A bit of comedy is sometimes seen when the Oriole, returning to her half-finished nest, catches a Summer Yellow-bird in the act of stealing some of the material. After the frame is completed, the Oriole works from inside, weaving the web from side to side.

The male suffers an eclipse during midsummer; his cheerful whistle is no longer heard, and we should think that he had already left for the South, did he not resume his strain in August. In fact, he has been moulting; but, unlike the Tanager, he replaces his bright feathers by others as gay, and before he leaves us, he is as bright as when he came. The wild cherry trees are now a favorite resort for the whole family; but by the first of September, they leave the Northern States and return to Central and South America, where they lead a careless life till the approach of spring reminds them of the village elms a thousand miles away.

THE WOOD THRUSH

It is difficult to speak without enthusiasm of the song of a Thrush. He seems wholly to outclass all other birds. When a Rose-breasted Grosbeak, no mean singer as our birds go, has finished his song, let a Wood Thrush utter but a phrase of his strain, and the Grosbeak's warble seems commonplace. Except the Thrushes, we have few birds whose song appeals to the imagination as human music does. We listen curiously to the songs of the others, criticise them or comment on them, as we do on a landscape; but let a Thrush sing and we fall into a reverie, recalling sad, tender, or solemn ideas and associations.

THE GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET

If we succeed in attracting the Chickadees to our trees, by tying up bones, the Kinglets often come in their company, but their little bills are too weak to pick at the frozen gristle, and they merely glean from the twigs and buds. The little scale insects, the eggs of moths and spiders, all manner of minute objects, are detected by their sharp eyes and seized by their skillful little bills and tongues. At night, the band retires to some thick evergreen hedge or grove, ready the next morning to resume their busy rounds. In April, the male is moved to utter a simple little song, and by the end of the month the whole company move to the spruce forests of the North, not to return to us until the next September.

In the Northern States, the Golden-crowned Kinglet is the only species that remains all winter, but from Virginia southward its cousin, the Ruby-crowned Kinglet, is associated with it; in summer, strange to say, the more Southern winter species goes farther North than the Golden-crowned, breeding from northern Maine to the frigid zone. A few years ago, no eggs or nest of either Kinglet had been described, but when they were at last discovered, they proved as dainty as the little builders themselves. The nest is globular, with an entrance in the upper part; it is placed in a thick mass of spruce twigs and composed of hanging moss, ornamented with bits of dead leaves, and lined chiefly with feathers. In such a nest, as many as nine eggs are often laid; imagine the little Golden-crown brooding in this bower.

Like some of the Warbler family, the Kinglet does not let an insect escape, though it should take wing before it could be seized. The bird, too, has wings, and darts out after its prey. In winter, it often hovers under the piazza roofs, or the lintels of the barn door, and while in the air, picks off the eggs or chrysalids that have been hidden in the crevices. Occasionally one of the birds, in its eagerness to seize some attractive morsel, flies sharply against a windowpane. No doubt it is the part of a thrifty householder to sweep out the insects from his piazza roof, but there are some, like Lowell, wise enough to leave a few decayed limbs on their apple trees for the Woodpeckers, a patch or so of weeds for the Snowbirds, and a chrysalis or two for the hungry Kinglets in winter.

THE HERRING GULL

All winter, a traveler along the seashore sees the great gray gulls wheeling gracefully through the air with outstretched wings, floating lightly on the water, or sitting in long lines or compact masses on the bars or flats which are exposed at low tide. The harbors of all the northern seacoast cities are visited in winter by numbers of these birds, constantly on the watch for any bits of refuse which may be thrown from the wharfs or vessels, or brought down by the tides or currents. Their long and powerful wings make the flight of even so heavy a bird a sight beautiful to watch, and the water looks deserted when the motion and color which the gulls furnish is absent. But it is not to the eye alone that the birds appeal.

The ceaseless activity of the gulls in pursuit of floating refuse and their inordinate appetite make them invaluable scavengers; without them, the refuse dumped into the water would return at each tide to pollute the shore. No idea can be formed of the value of the service performed by the gulls, till one sees the countless throngs which hover over the dumping grounds in the lower New York Bay, awaiting the arrival of the scows with the refuse from that city. As the buzzards and vultures are protected in all warm countries for their services in devouring carrion, so ought these scavengers of the northern seas to be guarded from persecution.

The adult Herring Gull in full plumage has pure white underparts, head and tail, but a gray mantle, as it is termed, is spread over the wings. Young birds, however, show many shades of brown, and attain the white only after a year or two. The small, elegantly built birds, known along the seacoast as Mackerel Gulls, are not strictly gulls, but terns. They may be known by their forked tails and by their black caps. It is they that hover screaming over the water, constantly darting down to strike at fish.

Gulls breed commonly along the coast of Maine and far northward. Great colonies occupy a small area, and a visit to their breeding places is a marvelous experience. At the approach of an intruder, the parents rise from their nests and circle about overhead, uttering hoarse cries, till the air is full of their wheeling forms. The downy young squat in the grass or bushes till the danger is past.

Both gulls and terns have long been persecuted for their soft white and gray plumage, which is coveted for the adornment of women's hats. As the destruction of the birds on the islands where they are breeding would soon destroy the whole race, efforts are being made by the lovers of birds to protect the birds on all the sandy points or rocky islands where they rear their young.

Gulls have wonderful powers of flight, and some species often follow ocean steamers for days, flying constantly about the vessel's stern, watching for bits of food which may be thrown overboard. When an object is spied the whole flock dart upon it, and it soon disappears among the crowd of struggling birds.

In the Eastern States gulls are always associated with the sea, but in the Mississippi valley certain species are found on the prairies, where they follow the plough to seize the upturned insects.

THE CHICKADEE

Besides the notes heard so commonly in winter, the Chickadee has a pensive and extremely gentle whistle, which it utters while sitting motionless, and oftener in spring than at other seasons, though it may be heard in every month of the year. It consists of two notes, an exact interval apart, and each accented. It is often mistaken, especially in early spring, for the song of the Phoebe, but it may be distinguished by its purity and sweetness. It is easily imitated by whistling, and the bird will often answer, or even fly toward the person whistling, and survey him with astonishment.

It is generally believed by people who see the bird only in winter that the Chickadees retire northward in spring; it is true that they then no longer frequent the yards and gardens, but in the woods and retired orchards many a pair have excavated some decaying birch or apple stump, and after lining it warmly with moss and feathers, provided amply for the continuance of their race; sometimes as many as nine eggs are laid. In winter, the birds spend the night in holes, not necessarily the same in which they were bred.

Several writers have mentioned instances of the extreme boldness of this bird; Mr. Chapman has had a Chickadee perch on his hand. One can easily imagine it, but we do not need such a mark of confidence to feel strong affection for this companionable and winter-loving bird.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

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