Birds and all Nature, Vol. VII, No. 4, April 1900

Birds and all Nature, Vol. VII, No. 4, April 1900
Various

Various

Birds and all Nature, Vol. VII, No. 4, April 1900

APRIL

These rugged, wintry days I scarce could bear,
Did I not know, that, in the early spring,
When wild March winds upon their errands sing,
Thou wouldst return, bursting on this still air
Like those same winds, when, startled from their lair,
They hunt up violets, and free swift brooks
From icy cares, even as thy clear looks
Bid my heart bloom, and sing, and break all care:
When drops with welcome rain the April day,
My flowers shall find their April in thine eyes,
Save there the rain in dreamy clouds doth stay,
As loath to fall out of those happy skies;
Yet sure, my love, thou art most like to May,
That comes with steady sun when April dies.

    – Lowell.

THE PROCESSION OF SPRING

A morning of radiant lids
O'er the dance of the earth opened wide;
The bees chose their flowers, the snub kids
Upon hind legs went sportive, or plied,
Nosing, hard at the dugs to be filled;
There was milk, honey, music to make;
Up their branches the little birds billed;
Chirrup, drone, bleat, and buzz ringed the lake.
O shining in sunlight, chief
After water and water's caress,
Was the young bronze orange leaf,
That clung to the trees as a tress,
Shooting lucid tendrils to wed
With the vine hook tree or pole,
Like Arachne launched out on her thread.
Then the maiden her dusky stole,
In the span of the black-starred zone,
Gathered up for her footing fleet.
As one that had toil of her own
She followed the lines of wheat
Tripping straight through the field, green blades,
To the groves of olive gray,
Downy gray, golden-tinged; and to glades
Where the pear blossom thickens the spray
In a night, like the snow-packed storm;
Pear, apple, almond, plum;
Not wintry now; pushing warm.
And she touched them with finger and thumb,
As the vine hook closes; she smiled,
Recounting again and again,
Corn, wine, fruit, oil! like a child,
With the meaning known to men.

    – George Meredith.

THE AMERICAN BITTERN

(Botaurus lentiginosus.)

THIS curious bird has several local names. It is called the "stake-driver," "booming bittern," and "thunder-pumper," in consequence of its peculiar cry. It was once thought that this noise was made by using a hollow reed, but the peculiar tone is possibly due to the odd shaped neck of the bird. Gibson says you hear of the stake-driver but can not find his "stake."

We have never seen a bittern except along water courses. He is a solitary bird. When alarmed by the approach of someone the bird sometimes escapes recognition by standing on its short tail motionless with its bill pointing skyward, in which position, aided by its dull coloring, it personates a small snag or stump or some other growth about it.

This bird has long legs, yellow green in color, which trail awkwardly behind it and serve as a sort of rudder when it flies. It has a long, crooked neck, and lengthy yellow bill edged with black. The body is variable as to size, but sometimes is said to measure thirty-four inches. The tail is short and rounded. In color this peculiar bird is yellowish brown mottled with various shades of brown above, and below buff, white and brown.

It is not a skillful architect, but places its rude nest on the ground, in which may be found three to five grayish brown eggs.

The habitat of the American bittern covers the whole of temperate and tropical North America, north to latitude about 60 degrees, south to Guatemala, Cuba, Jamaica and the Bermudas. It is occasionally found in Europe.

Frank Forrester included the bittern among the list of his game birds, and it is asked what higher authority we can have than his. The flesh is regarded as excellent food.

OUR LITTLE MARTYRS

GEORGE KLINGLE

Do we care, you and I,
For the song-birds winging by,
Ruffled throat and bosom's sheen,
Thrill of wing of gold or green,
Sapphire, crimson – gorgeous dye
Lost or found across the sky,
Midst the glory of the air;
Birds who tenderer colors wear?

What to us the free-bird's song,
Breath of passion, breath of wrong;
Wood-heart's orchestra, her life;
Breath of love and breath of strife;
Joy's fantasies; anguish breath;
Cries of doubt, and cries of death?

Shall we care when nesting-time