Birds and all Nature, Vol. IV, No. 2, August 1898

The black and white outlines which are often seen of this bird make it possible, perhaps, to recognize it, but the perfect likeness which we present will enable the observer to distinguish it at a glance from all others of the family, of which there are about a dozen well-known species.

INSTINCT AND REASON

IN a recent issue of the New York Evening Post, Caroline H. Dall writes interestingly on this subject as follows:

"I wish to draw the attention of such of your readers as are interested in the discussion of the nature of instinct, to a curious example of it, as distinct from reason, which I have lately witnessed.

"Entering the parlor of a friend the other day, my attention was instantly attracted to a Florida Mockingbird. He was flying about in an eager manner, with something like a long black straw in his bill. My friend entering, I asked: 'What is your bird doing?' 'Building a nest,' she answered. 'Has he a mate?' 'No, he has never had one,' she replied, 'nor has he ever seen a nest. That black straw is a shaving of whalebone which lasts him better than anything else.' At this moment the bird flew into a corner of the cage, and, stooping, dropped the whalebone, waited a moment as if for some response, and then flew away to repeat the manœvre.

"'Does he not want something soft?' I asked. 'I sometimes give him yarn or wool; he tears it all up, works it all over, and then carries it to that corner. He evidently thinks it his duty to provide material, but he does not undertake to use it.' 'And what will he do next?' I asked. 'He will, after a day or two, brood over that corner, sitting close and spreading his wings out as broadly as possible. He does this two or three times a day.' 'And after that?' 'Later the paternal instinct seems to be aroused in a different way. He goes to his food cup, takes some food in his mouth, and drops it into his corner. He repeats this several times, as if he were feeding his young. I do not know how many young birds he ought to expect, but I should like to know, to see if he counts right!'

"I have sometimes known a male canary to build a nest in the spring, carrying the process nearer to completion, but I have never heard of an instance like this, and think it may interest others than myself."

In spite of all the efforts that have been made in the interests of common sense and common humanity, there appears to be no doubt that the savage and indiscriminate slaughter of all birds of bright plumage is still going on for the gratification of feminine vanity. Indeed, the position of the unfortunate birds possessing the fatal gift of beauty seems to be worse than ever. There was sold the other day in London a consignment of nearly half a million birds, or parts of birds, as follows: Osprey plumes, 11,352 ounces; Vulture plumes, 186 pounds; Peacock feathers, 215,051 bundles; Birds of Paradise, 2,362 bundles; Indian Parrots, 228,289 bundles; Bronze Pigeons, including the Goura, 1,677 bundles; Tanagers and sundry birds, 38,198 bundles; Humming birds, 116,490 bundles; Jays and Kingfishers, 48,759 bundles; Impeyan and other jungle fowl, 4,952 bundles; Owls and Hawks, 7,163 bundles. In one of the most widely circulated English papers the fashionable news from Paris begins: "Birds are worn more than ever, and blouses made entirely of feathers are coming into fashion." "Rare tropical feathers," ordered by specialists from abroad, are specified as those most likely to be in demand, but no bird of any kind is safe that has a feather capable of being used for feminine decoration.

THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP

BIGHHORN is the name by which this interesting animal is chiefly known to western people, it being found in greater or less abundance from the Missouri River to the Pacific Ocean. It also occurs in New Mexico, Arizona, and Southern California, but it has not been discovered in any numbers south of the United States. It is more numerous in the Rocky Mountains, the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and the Coast Range, but it is by no means confined to the mountains, being also numerous along the Mauvaises Terres or the "Bad Lands" of the White River, the Little Missouri, Yellowstone, and Upper Missouri, in whose desolate and arid wastes it apparently delights. The Bighorn, in fact, finds in every rough country sufficient for its requirements, and it demands only that there shall be steep and difficult heights to which it may retreat when pursued. Every species of sheep would prefer a hilly habitat, but the Bighorn could scarcely exist on a level plain.

Somebody has said that Mountain Sheep would be aptly described as having the head of a sheep with the body of a deer. In size, however, it exceeds the largest deer, and a full-grown specimen will weigh from 300 to 350 pounds. Sir John Richardson gives the following measurements of an old male: Length to end of tail, 6 feet; height at shoulder, 3 feet 5 inches; length of tail, 2 inches; length of horn along the curve, 2 feet 10 inches; circumference of horn at the base, 1 foot 1 inch; distance from top of one horn to top of its fellow, 2 feet 3 inches. The coat is soft to the touch, the hair resembling that of the Caribou Deer, and, in some degree, that of the Antelope. It is short, fine, and flexible in its first growth in the autumn, but becomes longer as the season advances, until in winter the hair is so thick and close set that it stands erect. As the winter advances the dark tips of the hair are rubbed off so that by spring the old males are quite white. Under the hair a fine wool covers the skin.

The movements of the Bighorn are quite graceful, and the agility and lightness with which it scales steep bluffs, runs along the narrowest edge on the face of a precipice, or leaps from rock to rock in its descent from some mountain-top, are excelled by no other animal. These Sheep feed early in the morning, and retire during the middle of the day to points high up on the bluffs or mountains where they rest until sundown, when they return to their feeding grounds. Except during the month of December the old rams are found in small bands by themselves, the females and young associating together in companies of from five to twenty. In a country where they have not been disturbed by man they are occasionally seen in much larger herds.

No animal is more shy and wary than the Bighorn, and it therefore requires in its successful pursuit the greatest patience and deliberation, as, if it receives the slightest hint of the enemy's presence, it immediately disappears. Many a hunter of experience has never killed a Mountain Sheep, as these vigilant mountain climbers are usually able to elude their enemies.

"To hunt the Mountain Sheep successfully the candidate for honors should have some experience with large game, should have the patience and endurance possessed only by the most enthusiastic sportsman, and should be a fair shot with the rifle. In the gray of the morning, before attempting to look for his game, he should seek the highest ground in his vicinity whence a wide view of the surrounding country may be obtained, and from this point, with the good glass that is an indispensable part of a hunter's outfit, he should search the little ravines and grassy meadows running down from the hills. The sheep are always on the watch for enemies upon the lower ground, but rarely turn their glances to the heights, which, if disturbed, they will seek for safety."

It is indeed marvelous that these animals should be able to descend with facility the most abrupt precipices and cross canons, the sides of which are almost vertical, and this has given rise to the idea that they can throw themselves from great heights, and striking on their horns, can rebound uninjured and alight on their feet. Indeed, this is somewhat imaginative as it is apparently unreasonable. It is on account of the vast size of the horns, and the fact that these are often battered and splintered that this statement has been accepted as worthy of belief. It has been suggested, however, that even if the animal's head could stand so great a shock, it's neck would not. If it were true, how could females and young males, whose horns are little larger than those of the goat descend the cliffs, which they do as actively and successfully as the old males? The fact is that the splintered condition of the horns of the bucks is due to their battles and their play at all times of the year. The feet of Mountain Sheep are precisely adapted for their life among the crags, and they seem to be able to cling to any surface which presents the slightest inequality. Only the Wild Goat could pass over the same dangerous places. May or June are given in some of the best works on natural history as the time when the young are brought forth.

A SEMINARY FOR TEACHING BIRDS HOW TO SING

BUYING and importing song birds, says the Scientific American, occupies the time and attention of several scores of people in New York, and as the distributing center of this peculiar trade, the city is often the home of considerable numbers of song birds gathered from all quarters of the globe. On the East side, in Fourth street, there are several remarkable aviaries where, without doubt, a study of one branch of ornithology can be pursued under conditions more favorable than elsewhere on this continent, and a visit to one of these bird conservatories of music is better than a trip to the fields or woods to listen to the songs of the wild warblers. The owner of the aviary is a German – more than probable from some little village in the Hartz Mountains, where bird-raising is the chief industry, – and he not only feeds and tends his little birds with loving care, but teaches them to whistle and sing in tune to the accompaniment of an old reed organ or flute.

There are several large importing houses of song birds in New York, and in the busy season they employ from twenty to forty travelers who go back and forth from Europe to purchase the pick of the Canaries, Bullfinches and other European songsters. The consignments come chiefly from Germany and England. Nearly all the Canaries raised in the world for cage purposes come from these two countries, and most of the German exporting houses have distributing branches in New York. The birds are sent over by steamer in large consignments under the charge of an expert care-tender, who does nothing else but feed and doctor the little pets placed under his charge. One experienced man can take charge of five large crates, each one containing two hundred and ten cages of birds, or a little over a thousand in all. Sometimes during the rush season the care-tender has five hurricane deckers to watch, or fourteen hundred cages and birds to look after during the long hours of the days and nights.

That this work is not easy, any one who has had the privilege of looking after a single canary for a week can well understand. Feeding and watering over a thousand birds, and cleaning out their cages every day, makes up a routine of work on shipboard that begins at four o'clock in the morning and does not end until late in the afternoon. When seasickness makes life miserable for the passengers, the canaries are apt to be uncomfortable in their crowded quarters. Sometimes a disease known as "schnappen" breaks out among the Canaries at such times, and as this is fearfully contagious, it sweeps through the crowded bird quarters on shipboard and decimates the ranks at a terrible rate. Cases are known where only ten birds have survived out of an importation of eight hundred to a thousand, the disease performing its terrible work in a week's time. This is supposed to be caused as much by the over crowded and poorly ventilated condition of the birds' quarters as by the rolling of the ship. If you ask Fritz if his birds get seasick, he will answer emphatically "No;" but he will add softly to himself "schnappen." And in that word is conveyed much of meaning that the lay mind cannot appreciate.

When the imported birds arrive in port, they are hurried immediately to the importing houses, or to the different quiet aviaries in the German quarters, where experienced bird raisers take them in charge. It is at this latter place that one may make an inspection of the singers which are destined to carry song and delight into so many homes. Most of them are trained birds and they whistle and sing to perfection, and all that their German attendant has to do is to feed and water them properly. If disease breaks out among them, he is supposed to know just what to do, and in most instances he does prove an expert bird doctor.

In the mating and breeding season, however, young birds appear in the great aviary which must be taught to sing and whistle accurately. Most people imagine that all the perfection of song cage-birds is inherited, and they would be surprised to learn the amount of labor bestowed upon them in order to make their tunes accurate. The young birds that have the proper voices for great artists are trained in the most careful manner. In the Hartz Mountains, where Canary training reaches its highest development, the throat and voice of each young Canary are tested, and those selected for the highest training are set apart by themselves. They are sent to a school of instruction that is unique in its methods. At the head of this school is probably a Canary of the St. Andreasberg type, which strikes the right note for all the youngsters to imitate. The young birds are taken into the room in their cages, with cloth draped over them to shut out the light until the proper time has come for singing. Then the light is admitted and the teacher begins her warbling. The young birds, which have probably never yet attempted to pipe, leave off their feeding and listen to the marvelous outburst of pure song. They become uneasy and enraptured, and in a short time they try to imitate the song; but they make miserable failures for many days. Eventually some of them strike the right note, and at the end of the week the most promising ones are separated from the rest and placed in rooms with the best singers. In this way their voices are gradually cultivated, and new songs are taught them.

There are several such schools for canaries in New York, but they are devoted entirely to the comparatively few Canaries raised for the trade in this country. Most of those imported have already been trained to sing accurately, although after their long sea voyage they need a little extra training to bring their voices to perfection. The best trained Canaries are the St. Andreasberg Canaries, whose notes are considered the finest of any in existence. Originally these notes were obtained by placing a Nightingale in the breeding room of the young Canaries, and the natural, clear-toned voices quickly blended the song in with their natural notes. In time, by careful breeding and selection, the present type of the St. Andreasberg Canary was produced, but the pure, bracing air of the Hartz Mountains is considered necessary for the proper development of one of these superb singers. A true St. Andreasberg singer cannot, it is believed by bird trainers, be reared outside of the Hartz Mountains, and it is claimed that only about ten per cent of those raised in their native place ever pass the critical examination of the judges. They are sold according to the perfection of their song power, the best imported bringing as much as $25 to $50 apiece, and ordinary ones as little as $4 to $5. As a rule they are very small and insignificant looking birds, and not until they have opened their little throats to sing, does one comprehend their mission in life.