Birds and All Nature, Vol. III, No. 3, March 1898

INTERESTING FACTS ABOUT BIRDS

SENSES of sight, smell, and hearing are remarkably acute in birds. This is especially true of sight. Some have three eye lids, the upper and lower and a membrane which can be drawn over the entire eye-ball, called the nictitating membrane, enabling them to look directly at the sun. Eagles, Hawks, and Owls are thus provided. The eyes of the Eagles and Hawks are provided also with a ring of bony plates, by means of which the eye adjusts itself like a telescope, taking in both near and far objects.

Birds, except nocturnal species, have no external ear, but hear well.

The young of nest building birds when born are blind, naked, and unable to walk. In the Hen, the Partridge, and the Ducks, the young are able to walk, swim, or pick up food, as soon as they break the shell. When moulting, at the close of the breeding season, Quails usually shed in pairs. The male generally assumes a duller hued coat than the female.

With most birds of prey the female is the larger.

Bird's songs are composed of love-notes and pleasure-notes. We speak of the scream of birds, their chirp, expressions of joy or fear, as in the human voice. Their songs can be set to music. See S. P. Cheney's "Wood Notes Wild," in which the songs of many of our common birds are thus reproduced. The odd and peculiar actions of birds, their dances, struts, and posturings are all expressions of their emotions.

The nesting habits of birds are varied. Gulls drop eggs on bare ground or rocks; the Baltimore Oriole and Tailor bird construct hanging nests of elaborate workmanship; the Woodpecker hews out a deep nest in a rotten limb; the Kingfisher digs one out of a sandy bank, while the Cuckoo takes possession of the nest of some other bird. Most birds select nesting places away from other species, but Swallows, English Sparrows, Grackles, and Crows live in communities.

There are between seven and eight thousand species of living birds. A few species have become extinct, specimens of which it is the intention of Birds to present in future numbers.

There are three centers of distribution in the United States: (1) the Atlantic states and Mississippi valley; (2) the Rocky Mountain plateau; (3) the Pacific coast.

Most of the birds breeding in the northern portions of the United States migrate south during the winter months. Those remaining are known as residents.

THE IVORY-BILLED WOODPECKER

IN size, though hardly in beauty, this is indeed the prince of Woodpeckers, the largest of our North American species. Its length ranges from nineteen to twenty-one inches. There is one other Woodpecker, called the Imperial, which is larger, measuring twenty-three or twenty-four inches in length. This bird is found in Western Mexico, north along the Sierra Madre, and probably, according to Davie, has not yet been observed within the limits of the United States.

The Ivory-billed is now rare, and is apparently restricted to the extreme southern states, especially those bordering the Gulf of Mexico. It is of a wild and wary disposition, making its home in the dark, swampy woodlands. The dense cypress swamps of Florida are one of its favorite haunts.

The nest of the Ivory-bill is excavated in a tree, about forty feet from the ground, the cavity often being nearly two feet in depth. Three or more eggs are laid.

This bird does not remain long in one place, and during the day ranges over an extended territory. Its call is a high, rather nasal, yap-yap-yap, sounding in the distance like the note of a penny trumpet.

To use the language of Chapman, whose "Handbook" is a mine of ornithological knowledge, Woodpeckers are rather solitary birds, but are sometimes found associated in scattered companies during their migrations. Above all other birds, they are especially adapted to creep or climb. The peculiar structure of the foot, with its two toes directed forward and two backward, except in one genus, the Three-toed (which will appear in the April number of Birds), assists them in clinging to an upright surface, while the pointed, stiffened tail feathers serve as a prop when the bird is resting. The stout, chisel-like bill is used to cut away wood and expose the hiding places of grubs, etc., when the long, distensible tongue, with its horny, spear-like tip is thrust in, the food impaled and drawn out.

All Woodpeckers are of value to the farmer. It has been shown that two-thirds to three-fourths of their food, consists of insects, chiefly noxious. Wood-boring beetles, both adults and larvae, are conspicuous, and with them are associated many caterpillers, mostly species that burrow into trees. Next in importance are the ants that live in decaying wood, all of which are sought by Woodpeckers and eaten in great quantities. Many ants are particularly harmful to timber, for if they find a small spot of decay in the vacant burrow of some wood-borers, they enlarge the hole, and as their colony is always on the increase, continue to eat away the wood until the whole trunk is honeycombed. Moreover, these insects are not accessible to other birds, and could pursue their career of destruction unmolested were it not that the Woodpeckers, with beaks and tongues especially fitted for such work, dig out and devour them. It is thus evident that the Woodpeckers are great conservators of forests. To them, more than to any other agency, we owe the preservation of timber from hordes of destructive insects.

The Ivory-billed Woodpecker, living his almost solitary life in the vast and nearly impenetrable cypress swamps, at a height of forty and fifty feet from the ground, is rarely seen by man. The specimens we present in Birds are so nearly life-like that our readers need only imagine themselves in the dense forest of cypress to realize a very natural scene.

THE IVORY-BILLED WOODPECKER

Yap! Yap! Yap!

As I am called the prince of Woodpeckers, I can, I suppose, shout just as loud as I like. Of course my cousin, the Red-bellied Woodpecker, will turn up his bill and say they only call me the prince because I am the largest of all the North American Woodpeckers. Well, I think that is reason enough, don't you? Some creatures who are not birds, have been called princes and kings for less than that – so I have heard.

Mr. Red-belly had a great deal to say about, and for himself, in Birds last month; he sent his picture, too. Pooh! he can't compare with me. I am said to be the most magnificent Woodpecker of the whole lot. My species is select, too, no matter if he does say the whole family of Woodpeckers are common. We are considered rare birds. You don't find us in all localities, no indeed! You will have to travel to the far, far south to catch a glimpse of one of us magnificent fellows. Should you ever go way down on the Suwanee river, and walk "real easy" through the cypress forests you might get a peep at one of us. But we are wild and shy, and like to travel long distances through the day; no stay-at-home bodies among us.

I'm not one of the three-toed Woodpeckers, either, that Mr. Red-belly was so anxious to tell you about. It's very strange how eager some people are to talk about other people's imperfections. I have four toes, two in front and two behind, so it isn't "sour grapes" that leads me to speak as I do. I'll admit my feet are peculiar, my toes assisting me in clinging to an upright surface, and my pointed stiff tail-feathers serving to prop me up when resting.

I think I am very fortunate, too, in having such a stout, chisel-like bill, and such a horny, spear-like tongue. With the first I cut away wood and explore the hiding place of grubs; with the latter I impale them and draw the food out. Dear, dear! How fearfully and wonderfully we are made, to be sure – birds as well as men.

Sing! No, wish I could. But then I have a love-song which my mate thinks is fine; 'tis a long, rolling call, which I beat with my bill.

THE SPARROW HAWK

Killy-killy-killy-killy!

That's my song and I don't sing it very low either. It is for that reason some people call me the Killy Hawk.

The boys who spend much time in the fields are very well acquainted with me. Many a time, I dare say, they have seen me patiently sitting, for an hour or more, on a lofty branch waiting for "something to turn up."

Something does generally turn up, and that is a mouse. "Ah," says she, peeking out from her nest, "there is nobody around, so I will go out for a walk," and out she comes, not noticing me way up in the tree, of course.

Then I dive from my perch and fly directly over her. A mouse can't keep still, somehow, and from point to point she runs, zigzagging this way and that way, giving me lots of trouble, for I have to zigzag, too. After awhile she stands still for a minute, and so do I, up in the air, my fan-like tail spread out very wide, my head lowered and – well, pretty soon it is all over with Mrs. Mouse. But mice are nuisances anyway, don't you think? Just because people have seen me do that little trick they call me the Mouse Hawk. I catch Sparrows, and other small birds, so they call me the Sparrow Hawk, too.

I don't care what they call me, to tell you the truth, just so they let me alone. It's not pleasant to have a stone thrown at you, or a gun pointed your way – if it is loaded, and they generally are loaded, I notice, with something that hurts.

My nest? Oh, I don't care for that sort of work, so I never build one. Any natural hole in a high tree, the deserted hole of a Woodpecker, or a Magpie's nest, is good enough for me. Just a few leaves in the bottom, and on them my mate lays five eggs, sometimes six, sometimes seven.

THE AMERICAN SPARROW HAWK

EVERY boy who has been in the fields is familiar with this beautiful little Hawk, which is numerous everywhere in North America. As Davie felicitously says: "Here it may be seen hovering almost motionless in mid air, then suddenly swooping down to the ground, arises again with perhaps a field-mouse in its talons." From this habit it receives the name of Mouse Hawk, although it also preys upon Sparrows and other small birds. It is found almost everywhere, though most abundant along streams where grow the high sycamores, whose natural cavities furnish suitable nesting places, but meadows and fields are its retreats when in search of food. It builds no nest, but deposits its eggs in the natural cavities of high trees, often in the deserted holes of Woodpeckers, or in crevices in rocks or nooks about buildings. In the West it frequently appropriates a deserted Magpie's nest. Eggs of this Hawk were taken from a crevice in a stone quarry in the Scioto river, where the birds nested for years. The Sparrow Hawk often takes possession of boxes intended for Pigeons, and it always proves to be a peaceable neighbor. The nests generally contain no lining, but in some cases a slight bed of leaves or grasses on a few chips are used. The eggs are four to six, buffy white, speckled, spotted, and blotched with light and dark brown.

This Hawk is not as active or destructive as others of the Falcon tribe. Its flight is usually short and irregular, darting here and there, often hovering in a suspended manner for several moments at a time. During the summer months, it occasionally kills small birds, but feeds chiefly upon mice, lizards, grasshoppers, crickets, and the like, as they are so much easier to capture than full grown birds, and to which they rarely turn their attention, until the cold weather drives the other forms of life, upon which they so largely feed, into their winter beds. The bird that suffers most outside of the Horned Larks and Longspurs, is the Tree Sparrow, as it prefers the hedges and small thickets upon the prairies, instead of the wooded lands, for its sheltered home; its food in all such cases being upon the open lands, and whenever there is snow upon the ground it drifts against the hedges and forces the little birds to seek the bare spots, quite a distance away, for the seeds on or fallen from the weeds. Here it is that the Hawk, says Goss, successfully performs its work, by darting from a perch and striking the Sparrow, either upon the ground or before it can reach its hiding place.

The woods are full of voices everywhere;An hundred chipmunks' sharp, quick tones are there;The cricket's chirp, the partridge drum,The harsh-voiced crows which go and come,In Nature's song agree.The breeze that wanders through the firs,The rustle of each leaf that stirs,Are whisperings to me.So, when swift impulse leads in ways unknown,I follow on without a thought of fear;God reigns, and I can never be alone,With Nature near.– Tom Carder, Jr.

HINTS ON THE STUDY OF WINTER BIRDS

IN attractiveness to children, says James E. McDade, for the Committee of Sixty of Chicago, no department of natural history surpasses Ornithology. Birds are to be found everywhere. In the city parks and suburban groves careful observation will reveal objects of study, even in the depths of winter. The following suggestions are based on practical work which has been done in the G. W. Curtis school during the past two years.

No satisfactory work can be done until the children have been aroused to sufficient interest to observe birds for themselves. Pictures and descriptions, however valuable as auxiliaries, can never take the place of personal observation. The best method of arousing this interest is to go out with the children and study the birds. Opera glasses or field glasses will greatly facilitate observation.

As a guide in description pupils may have in mind the following points: shape and size of bird; prevailing color; marks on head, wings, throat, or tail; shape of bill; length of tail; where found (whether on the ground, in trees, or climbing tree trunks). These and other details should be emphasized.

In all this work strict accuracy must be insisted on. In the beginning, pupils are apt to give inaccurate, and, in some instances, highly imaginary descriptions of birds. A good plan is to encourage them to bring in written descriptions of birds they have seen.

Such field work may well furnish excellent subject matter for water color work, as well as a basis for written compositions. Good collections of our native birds may be found in the Field Columbian Museum and in the museum of the Chicago Academy of Sciences, and the curators of these institutions will be found ready to give teachers any aid in their power.

Mr. McDade mentions the following as the most common winter birds of this vicinity, not including swimmers and waders: the English Sparrow, the Snow Bird, the Bluejay, the Thistle-bird, the Black-capped Chickadee, the White-bellied Nuthatch, the Northern Shrike or Butcherbird, the Horned Lark, and the Crow.

In many parts of the country there are good collections of birds which are accessible, and which may, by a little inquiry, be found by those interested. We do not hesitate to say, however, that the specimens of birds shown monthly in this magazine have stimulated the successful study of Ornithology to a degree never imagined as possible. The pictures are so true to nature in color and attitude that they are instantly fixed in the mind. We know several instances where children of eight and ten years have become by its use so familiar with many birds that they can draw and paint them from memory with considerable fidelity. Birds is indeed the best means of acquiring speedy as well as accurate knowledge of Ornithology desired by those who do not expect to pursue the study in all its scientific ramifications. We refer with confidence to the recognized authorities on the subject.

C. C. Marble.

THE SILVER PHEASANT

The Peasant Cocke the woods doth most frequent,Where Spaniells spring and pearche him by the sent.– Old Rhyme.

IN beautiful contrast with the Golden Pheasant (see Birds, Vol. 1, p. 13) we present this month the magnificent Silver or Penciled Pheasant, also a native of China, which has long been introduced into Europe, but has been considered to be fitted only for the aviary. The Pheasant was long thought to have been brought from the banks of the river Phasis, now the Rioni, in Colchis, and introduced into Europe by the Argonauts. Newton says that, as a matter of fact, nothing is known on this point; and, judging from the recognition of the remains of several species referred to, both in Greece and in France, it seems not impossible that the ordinary Pheasant may have been indigenous to England.

It was thought only a few years ago that the successful propagation of Pheasants was problematical, but now the Mongolian, the English Ring-necked, and the Chinese Golden Pheasant, each has found a home in some of the states, where it is increasing in numbers. Why may not a similar experiment be made with the Silver Pheasant?

On Fox Island, in Puget Sound, there is an oriental Pheasant preserve. Mr. Frank Alling, the proprietor, is securing the co-operation of other land owners, and it promises to be a great success. The varieties of Pheasants which he is raising include all we have mentioned in this article, as well as the Copper, the Green, the Bronze, and the Asiatic Ring-necks, with a curiosity in the shape of a mule produced by crossing and recrossing the Copper and Asiatic Ring-necks. The mule hens are very beautiful, but their eggs will not hatch. Oriental Quails liberated on the island have increased quite rapidly. Among the many importations are small Bantams from Woo Sung, China, for hatching Pheasant eggs and rearing the young birds; Mandarin Ducks, from Japan, (see Birds, Vol. I, p. 9); Wild Peacocks and Bleeding Heart Pigeons, from Calcutta, India, and Manila, respectively.

In England within recent years the practice of bringing up Pheasants by hand has been extensively followed, and the numbers so reared, says Newton, vastly exceed those that are bred at large. The eggs are collected from birds that are either running wild or kept in a mew, and are placed under domestic hens; but, though these prove most attentive foster-mothers, much additional care on the part of the keepers is needed to insure the arrival at maturity of the chicks; for, being necessarily crowded in a comparatively small space, they are subject to several diseases which often carry off a large proportion, to say nothing of the risk they run of not being provided with proper food or of meeting an early death from some predatory animal. As they advance in age the young Pheasants readily take to a wild life, and indeed can only be kept from wandering in every direction by being plentifully supplied with food, which has to be scattered for them in the places in which it is desired that they should stay.

EIDER DUCK FARMS

The Fluffy Feathers Gathered in Iceland

ALL ACCOUNTS I have read about Eider Ducks say that nests are robbed of their down twice, the duck supplying it each time from her own body; the third time the drake gives his white down, and this is allowed to remain, declares a writer in Good Words. But I was told by farmers in Iceland that now they never take the down until the little ones are hatched. It has been found that the birds thrive better and increase faster when they are allowed to live as nature meant them to. So now the poor mothers are no longer obliged to strip themselves of all their down to refurnish their despoiled nests. Sometimes, if the quantity is very great, a little may be taken, but enough must be left to cover the eggs when the duck leaves her nest for food.

A writer from Iceland, in speaking of a visit to one of the Isafjord farms, wrote: "On the coast was a wall built of large stones, just above high water level, about three feet high and of considerable thickness at the bottom. On both sides of it alternate stones had been left out so as to form a series of square compartments for the ducks to make their nests in. Almost every compartment was occupied, and as we walked along the shore a line of ducks flew out, one after another. The house was a marvel; the earthen walls that surround it and the window embrasures were occupied with ducks. On the ground the house was fringed with ducks. On the turf slopes of the roof we could see ducks, and ducks sat on the scraper."

About 10,000 pounds of eiderdown are gathered annually in Iceland, 7,000 being exported to foreign countries. Formerly the peasants used to receive over 21 shillings a pound, but the price has now fallen to half that amount. The peasants seldom receive money, and are obliged to barter their down for merchandise furnished by the Danish merchants at the little settlements at the fjords. A pound and a half of down is enough to fill an ordinary bed-puff. These very comfortable articles are found in the guest room of every Iceland farm, however poor and small it may be. After a long, hard day in the saddle the traveler longs for warmth and shelter. These little guest rooms have never had a fire in them, and built, as they are, on the ground, there is a dreadful chill on them. Once tucked away in bed, and tired bones lose their pains and stiffness, however, and well covered with the down-puff, a delightful sense of comfort follows.

THE SCALED PARTRIDGE

THROUGHOUT Northwestern Mexico and the border of the United States, from Western Texas to New Mexico and Southern Arizona, this handsome Partridge, called the Blue Quail, is found in abundance, especially on the dry mesas of the San Pedro slope of the Santa Catalina Mountains, up to an altitude of three thousand five hundred feet. In Arizona they are found in flocks of from six to ten, sometimes more, in the most barren places, miles away from water.

The Blue Quail, like all the other western and southwestern species, prefers to trust to safety to its powers of running, rather than those of flight. The great trouble is to start them from the ground.

A slight depression under a bush serves for the nest of this bird, which is generally lined with a few coarse grasses. Complete sets of eggs have been found as early as April 25. The eggs are extremely thick-shelled, of a buffy-white or cream color. The number laid ranges from eight to sixteen.

The habits of this Quail do not differ greatly from those of Bob White, though they have not been fully studied, and the species is of less extensive distribution.

THE MOUND BIRD

There are some peculiar birds in the world, and one of the strangest is the Australian Megapod, or Mound bird, that allows nature to perform the labor of hatching its eggs. In some parts of the island continent are found many mounds of considerable size and height, which the first explorers took for burial mounds. These were made by the "Megapodius Tumulus," which uses them for hatching its eggs. They have sometimes considerable dimensions. A nest that is 14 feet high and 55 feet in circumference may be regarded as large. Each Megapod builds its own nest with materials which it gathers from all sides, and these are exactly what the gardener uses in the month of March to make his forcing beds – namely, leaves and decomposing vegetable matter, which by their fermentation give off an appreciable amount of heat. In the forcing beds this heat hastens the sprouting of the seeds; in the nest it suffices for the development and hatching of the young birds, and the mother can go where she likes and occupy herself as she wishes without being troubled by the duties of sitting. In the small islands of Ninafou, in the Pacific, another bird has a somewhat similar habit, in so far as it also abandons its eggs, but in place of obtaining the necessary heat from fermentation it gets it from the warm sand. The Leipoa or native Pheasant of Australia acts like the Megapod and watches the temperature of its mound very closely, covering and uncovering the eggs several times a day to cool them or heat them, as becomes necessary. After hatching, the young bird remains in the mound several hours; it leaves on the second day, but returns for the night, and not until the third day is it able to leave for good the paternal abode. —American Field.

THE NEW TENANTS

By Elanora Kinsley Marble

Mr. Wren had no need to inquire the cause of his mate's distress, for at this moment a loud and vehement Jay-jay-jay, resounded from an adjacent tree.

"Ha!" said he, "it is that villian Mr. Blue Jay at last. I have been expecting a call from him for some time. I heard yesterday that he was caught sucking the eggs of Mrs. Red-eyed Vireo, and that Mrs. Dove was mourning more than usual because out of four beautiful eggs she had only one left. But never you mind, my dear, never you mind! He daren't go near our nest you see, for Bridget is out there with her broom, and if he should dare attack us, why – "