Birds and all Nature, Vol. IV, No. 4, October 1898

NATURE'S GROTESQUE

(THE YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT.)

THIS bird comedian is an actor, a mimic, and a ventriloquist; he has been called "a rollicking polygot," "an eccentric acrobat," "a happy-go-lucky clown, turning aerial somersaults," "a Punchinello among birds," and from my own experience I can add that he is a practical joker and "an artful dodger." His voice is absolutely unique in its range. Besides his power as a ventriloquist, to throw it in any direction, and so entice away from his nest any intruder upon his domain, he possesses the most unequaled capacity for making queer noises. On a certain summer day I was driving to Monticello, the Virginia home of President Jefferson, along a beautiful road, bordered by tall trees and a thick, leafy undergrowth where a thousand nests might be safely hidden. All along a road the Chats called chit, chit, or barked, whined, clucked, whistled, sang, chuckled and called overhead, or out of the bushes beside us, always invisible, or just giving a flutter to the leaves to show their presence. One of the party declared one called Kitty, Kitty! distinctly, and he also mimmicked a puppy most successfully. Later on, in July, I was stopping near a favorite haunt of the Chats; a country place on the edge of the woods, where thickly growing shrubs and bushes filled the deep hollows between the hills and near the streams. Here they had their broods, and not only all day, but late in the evening by moonlight they could be heard, making the whole place ring with their medley of sounds, while not a feather of them could be seen.

Yet I finally succeeded in catching various glimpses of them, and in equally characteristic, though different moods. First, I saw them darting rapidly to and fro on foraging journeys, their bills filled with food, for they are most admirable husbands and fathers, and faithful to the nests that they hide with such care. They are beautiful birds, rich olive-green above and a bright yellow below, with two or three pure white lines or stripes about the eye and throat and a "beauty spot" of black near the beak. I watched one balancing on a slender twig near the water in the bright sunshine and his colors, green and gold, fairly glittered. His nest is usually near the ground in the crotch of a low branch and is a rather large one, woven of bark in strips, coarse grass and leaves, and lined with finer grass for the three or four white eggs, adorned with small reddish-brown spots. One pair had their home near a blackberry thicket, and they might be seen gobbling berries and peeping at you with bright black eyes all the while.

The Chat excels in extraordinary and absurd pose; wings fluttering, tail down, legs dangling like a Stork, he executes all kinds of tumbles in the air. It is said that a Chat courtship is a sight never to be forgotten by the lucky spectator. Such somersaults, such songs, such queer jerks and starts. Our bird is one of the Wood Warbler family, a quiet and little known group of birds. His elusiveness and skill in hiding, and his swift movements, are his only traits in common with them.

Ella F. Mosby.

In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to go out and see her riches and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth. – Milton.

THE RED-HEAD DUCK

IN MANY points of structure and habits Sea Ducks, of which this is a specimen, may be distinguished from Fresh Water Ducks by the presence of a lobe or little flap of skin on the lower side of the hind toe. The legs of the former are also placed farther behind, and they are thus better fitted for swimming, though not so well adapted for walking or running on land. The feathers of Sea Ducks are more dense also, and they are all provided with a quantity of thick down next to the skin, which is of no small commercial value.

The difference in the habits of the two species is no less striking. The latter dive for their food, which the former never do; they are chiefly maritime in their distribution, although all, or nearly all, retire to fresh water lakes to raise their young.

The Red-head is said not to be common along the coast of New England, but in the winter months is found in considerable numbers along the south shore of Long Island. It is extremely abundant south of that point, and particularly so in Chesapeake Bay, where immense numbers are killed each season. Where it is enabled to feed on the well known wild celery its flesh is said to be fully equal in flavor to that of the Canvas Back. Both in spring and fall it is an extremely abundant migrant in the Western States. It generally reaches northern Illinois, says Hallock, in its spring passage about the last of March, remaining until the latter part of April. On its return journey late in October, it remains on the rivers, lakes, and sloughs until the cold weather, by freezing up its feeding grounds, forces it to go farther south. It is altogether probable that a few of these birds breed in the Rocky Mountain regions within the limits of the United States, but they usually continue northward to their regular breeding grounds, which extend from Wisconsin, Michigan, and others of the northern tier of states, to the fur countries.

The Red-head was found nesting on the St. Clair Flats, Michigan, by Mr. W. H. Collins, who, in describing some of its breeding habits, says: "I had the good fortune to find two nests of this bird containing respectively seven and eight eggs. The first was placed on some drifted rushes on a sunken log, and was composed of flags and rushes evidently taken from the pile of drift upon the log, as they were short pieces, so short, in fact, that the nest when lifted with the hands fell in pieces. The nest was four inches deep and lined with down from the female. This nest contained seven fresh eggs of a creamy color, varied in measurements and of a uniform oval shape, very little smaller at one end. The other nest was built similar to a Coot's nest; that is, of flags and grass interwoven at the base of a bunch of flags growing in water three or four feet deep. It was built in such a way that the nest would rise and fall with the water."

The food of the Red-head consists of mollusks, shell-fish, and the seeds and roots of aquatic plants.

BIRDS IN GARDEN AND ORCHARD

DURING the last year I have received quite a number of letters from all over the United States, inquiring why so few birds are found about the homes, among the ornamental shrubs and trees, and in the orchard. My correspondents also wish to know how our beautiful native songsters can be induced to take up their residence in the neighborhood of man. As the many inquiries came from the East, the West, the North, and the South, I shall treat the subject in the following manner:

The northern, eastern, and central states show but little difference as to their bird-life, and there is also little diversity in regard to the ornamental trees and shrubs of the gardens. The region included is bounded on the the north by the British possessions, on the east by the Atlantic ocean, on the west by the Rocky mountains, and on the south by the Indian Territory, Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina. While living in the country I have always had birds at my home and in the neighborhood, and I shall, therefore, give my own experience.

Birds settle only where they find the surroundings perfectly congenial, and where they are protected and consequently feel safe; where dense shrubbery, evergreens, and deciduous trees abound, and where water and suitable nesting material are near at hand. In one garden they are exceedingly numerous, while in another one close by, only a few pairs, perhaps, are to be found. When protected, they soon learn to regard man as their friend. Their enemies, especially Cats, Squirrels, and Owls, must not be allowed to rove about in the garden and orchard, and such thieves and robbers as the Blue Jay, the Loggerhead Shrike or Butcher Bird, and that abominable tramp and anarchist among birds, the English Sparrow, should never be tolerated in a garden or park where other birds are expected to make their homes.

In the days of my boyhood the groves re-echoed with the songs of many birds; the woods, however, have been cleared away, and in the poor remnants of the once magnificent forests there are few birds to be found today. The sweet notes of the Veery, the thundering sounds of the Ruffed Grouse, the loud hammering of the Pileated Woodpecker, are no longer heard. I have devoted much time to erecting bird houses and planting ornamental trees and shrubs for the accommodation of the birds. Here they soon took up their residences. On the top of the barn and granary Martin boxes were placed, and in the gables of the barn holes were cut to admit the pretty Barn Swallow and the Phœbe. Among the first birds to settle were the Robins and Bluebirds, both heralds of spring, appearing in the last days of March or early in April from their winter homes in our Southern States. The Baltimore Oriole suspended its beautiful hanging nest from a high horizontal branch of a Walnut tree. The Cedar Bird, quiet and retired in its habits, and a most beautiful denizen of the garden, placed its nest constructed of sheep's wool on a low horizontal branch of an Oak. The sprightly Canary-like song of the American Goldfinch, often called the Wild Canary, was heard throughout the summer, and its cozy little nest, lined warmly with thistle-down, was placed in the upright exterior branches of a Sugar Maple. In the same tree, but lower down on a horizontal branch the exquisite pendulous nest of the Red-eyed Vireo was now and then found. This Vireo is an incessant songster as it gleans among the upper branches of the trees.

The Rose-breasted Grosbeak invariably nested in a clump of dense wild Crab-apple trees, partly overgrown with grape vines. Another inhabitant of the grove not easily overlooked, is the bold Kingbird, the guardian of the barnyard, its nest saddled on a rather strong moss-covered limb of another Oak. I could mention a number of other birds that build their nests near the dwellings of man, but space will not permit me to do so. I will add, however, that if my readers would have about them these beautiful and useful birds, which are almost the best friends of mankind, don't allow English Sparrows to come near your home, and you will soon find yourself in the midst of the songsters. The incredible numbers of English Sparrows now found almost everywhere have driven our native birds away.

– Jos. F. Honecker,Oak Forest, Ind.

GOLDENROD

SPRING is the morning of the year,And Summer is the noontide bright;The Autumn is the evening clearThat comes before the Winter's night.And in the evening, everywhereAlong the roadside, up and down,I see the golden torches flareLike lighted street-lamps in the town.I think the Butterfly and Bee,From distant meadows coming back,Are quite contented when they seeThese lamps along the homeward track.But those who stay too late get lost;For when the darkness falls about,Down every lighted street the frostWill go and put the torches out!– Frank Dempster Sherman.

OCTOBER

AY, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath,When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief,And the year smiles as it draws near its death.Wind of the sunny south! oh still delay,In the gay woods and in the golden air,Like to a good old age released from care,Journeying, in long serenity, away.In such a bright, late quiet, would that IMight wear out life like thee, mid bowers and brooks,And, dearest yet, the sunshine of kind looks,And music of kind voices ever nigh;And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.-Bezant.October days are stealingAll swiftly on their way;The squirrels now are working,The leaves are out at play;The busy, busy childrenAre gathering nuts so brown,And birds are gaily planningA winter out of town.-Clara L. Strong.

FROM "CONSTANTINOPLE."

Edmondo de Amicis

CONSTANTINOPLE has one grace and gayety peculiar to itself, that comes from an infinite number of birds of every kind, for which the Turks nourish a warm sentiment and regard. Mosques, groves, old walls, gardens, palaces all resound with song, the whistling and twittering of birds; everywhere wings are fluttering and life and harmony abound. The sparrows enter the houses boldly, and eat out of women's and children's hands, Swallows nest over the café doors, and under the arches of the bazaars; Pigeons in innumerable swarms, maintained by legacies from sultans and private individuals, form garlands of black and white along the cornices of the cupolas and around the terraces of the minarets; Sea-gulls dart and play over the water; thousands of Turtle-doves coo amorously among the cypresses in the cemeteries; Crows croak about the Castle of the Seven Towers; Halcyons come and go in long files between the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmora; and Storks sit upon the cupolas of the mausoleums. For the Turk, each one of these birds has a gentle meaning, or a benignant virtue: Turtle-doves are favorable to lovers, Swallows keep away fire from the roofs where they build their nests, Storks make yearly pilgrimage to Mecca, Halcyons carry the souls of the faithful to Paradise. Thus he protects and feeds them, through a sentiment of gratitude and piety; and they enliven the house, the sea, and the sepulchre. Every quarter of Stamboul is full of the noise of them, bringing to the city a sense of the pleasures of country life, and continually relishing the soul with a reminder of nature.

There are several kinds of animals, points out Cosmos, that have never swallowed water. Among these are the Lamas of Patagonia and certain Gazelles of the far east, and a considerable number of reptiles – Serpents, Lizards, and certain Batrachians – that live and flourish where there is no moisture. A kind of Mouse of the arid plains of western America also exists where moisture is said to be unknown. In the London Zoological Gardens a Paroquet lived fifty-two years without drinking a drop, and some naturalists believe that Hares take no liquid except the dew that sometimes forms on the grass they eat. Even Cows and Goats in France, in the neighborhood of the Lozère, almost never drink, yet they produce the milk from which is made the famous Roquefort cheese.

ANIMALS AND MUSIC

ONE of our poets is authority for the statement that "music hath power to sooth the savage breast," but experiments have recently been made in Lincoln Park, Chicago, The American Naturalist tells us, to determine with scientific accuracy the effects of violin playing on certain animals.

"Music which was slow and sweet, like 'Home, Sweet Home' or 'Annie Laurie,' pleased the Panthers, a Jaguar, and a Lioness with her cubs. The Panthers became nervous and twitched their tails when a lively jig, 'The Irish Washerwoman,' was played to them, and relapsed into their former quiet when the music again became soothing.

"The Jaguar was so nervous during the jig music that he jumped from a shelf to the floor of his cage and back again. When the player ceased playing and walked away, the Jaguar reached out his paw to him as far as he could. His claws were drawn back.

"The Lioness and her cubs were interested from the first, though when the violinist approached the cage the mother gave a hiss, and the cubs hid behind her. At the playing of a lively jig, the cubs stood up on their hind legs and peeped over at the player. When the musician retreated from the cage, the animals came to the front of it and did not move back when he gradually drew so near as almost to touch the great paws which were thrust through the bars. When playing 'Home, Sweet Home,' the entire family seemed very attentive, and were motionless except that the cubs turned their heads from side to side. Then another jig was played and the cubs pranced about."

"The Coyotes in a den, squatted in a semicircle, and sat silently while the music continued. When it ceased, they ran up and pawed at the player through the bars. He began afresh, and they again formed in a silent semicircle. This experiment was tried several times with the same results."

Of late years the Sea Gulls have found it so much to their interest to come up to the Thames in our midst that their graceful evolutions around the crowded bridges in ever growing flocks has almost ceased to excite notice. But this year, as never before, they have descended upon the water of St. James Park in such great numbers that their presence must considerably exercise the minds of those responsible for the welfare of the other wild fowl there. They may be seen sometimes resting upon the surface of the eastern half of the lake in sufficient number almost to hide the water. And at the luncheon hour, when released workers throng bank and bridge, bestowing upon the water the scanty fragments of their frugal meals, the gulls, on ready wing, with an agility born of long practice over stormy seas, give the clumsier Ducks and Geese hard work to obtain even a small share of what is going. Not so long ago a piece of plain bread might often float uneaten until it sank waterlogged for the benefit of the fish. It is so no longer. No crumb now goes a-begging or is scouted by any of the old habitues as beneath their notice. – London Paper.