Birds and Nature Vol. 11 No. 2 [February 1902]

Birds and Nature Vol. 11 No. 2 [February 1902]
Various

Various

Birds and Nature Vol. 11 No. 2 [February 1902]

FEBRUARY

But Winter has yet brighter scenes – he boasts
Splendors beyond what gorgeous summer knows;
Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods
All flushed with many hues. Come when the rains
Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice,
While the slant sun of February pours
Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach!
The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps,
And the broad arching portals of the grove
Welcome thy entering. Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
Is studded with its trembling water-drops,
That glimmer with an amethystine light.
But round the parent-stem the long low boughs
Bend, in a glittering ring, and arbors hide
The glassy floor. Oh! you might deem the spot
The spacious cavern of some virgin mine,
Deep in the womb of earth – where the gems grow,
And diamonds put forth radiant rods and bud
While amethyst and topaz – and the place
Lit up, most royally, with the pure beam
That dwells in them. * * * *

    – William Cullen Bryant, “A Winter Piece.”

THE BLUE-HEADED VIREO

(Vireo solitarius.)

The Blue-headed Vireo, or its varieties, of which there are several, frequent nearly the whole of North America. The typical form of the species, that of our illustration, has a range covering Eastern North America and extending westward to the great plains. It breeds from Southern New England and the lake states northward to Hudson Bay and southward in the higher altitudes of the Alleghenies. It passes the winter in Cuba, Mexico and Central America. The Blue-headed Vireo is frequently called the Solitary Vireo, or Greenlet, because of its retiring habits. It is a bird of the forest and stays very close in these quiet retreats. Yet it is, as a rule, easy of approach, seeming to possess both curiosity and confidence. Mr. Bradford Torrey writes with enthusiasm regarding the pretty habits of this bird. He says: “Its most winning trait is its tameness. Wood bird as it is, it will sometimes permit the greatest familiarities. Two birds I have seen which allowed themselves to be stroked in the freest manner while sitting on the eggs, and which ate from my hand as readily as any pet canary; but I have seen others that complained loudly whenever I approached their tree. Perhaps they had had sad experiences.”

Possessing a happy and cheerful disposition, this species, like the other vireos, sings while working. Listening to them, we are reminded of the lines in “The Vision of Sir Launfal” —

“The little birds sang as if it were
The one day of summer in all the year,
And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees.”

Fortunate, indeed, is he who has the pleasure of watching this Vireo working upon its home and uttering “inexpressibly sweet and tender love notes.”

Mr. Thomas M. Brewer says that the Blue-headed Vireo “usually makes a nest of coarse materials somewhat loosely put together, covering it with lichens, thus assimilating it to the moss-covered limb from which it is suspended.” The materials used, however, are not always the same. One nest, of which Mr. Brewer speaks, was “covered over, as if cemented, with bits of newspaper.” The external portion of another was “composed of the silky cover of cocoons, woven into a homogeneous and clothlike fabric, by some process quite inexplicable.” The nests are frequently constructed of fine bark fibers, withered grass and pine needles woven together with moss and lined with plant down, fine grass and small, fibrous roots.

Much has been written regarding the song of this handsome bird of the woods. The words of Mr. Torrey perhaps best describe it. He says: “The Solitary’s song is matchless for the tenderness of its cadence, while in peculiarly happy moments the bird indulges in a continuous warble that is really enchanting.” It has, too, a musical chatter and a pretty trilled whistle.

In Mr. Keyser’s experience “the song was varied and lively, sometimes running high in the scale, and had not that absent-minded air which marks the roundelay of the warbling vireo. It is much more intense and expressive.”

Mr. Brewer describes the song as a “prolonged and very peculiar ditty, repeated at frequent intervals and always identical. It begins with a lively and pleasant warble, of a gradually ascending scale, which at a certain pitch suddenly breaks down into a falsetto note. The song then rises again in a single note and ceases.”

The notes of the female suggest to Mr. Burroughs “the bleating of a tiny lambkin.” To Mr. Nuttall “its song seems to be intermediate between that of the red-eyed and the yellow-breasted species, having the ‘preai, preai,’ of the latter and the fine variety of the former in its tones.” To all “the music of the Solitary Vireo is delicious.”

BOOK AND MRS. OYSTER

At the death of his dear mother little Willis went from his western farm home to stay for a few years with his Aunt Jennie in an eastern seaport town.

One day she had oysters in the shell for dinner. As his parents had wisely tried to keep his eyes and ears keen in regard to common things, he was full of questions.

His aunt told him that the next time she bought live oysters she would give him some to watch and study. Only a few weeks later she was expecting company to dinner and had a chance to keep her word.

“Fill this with water,” said she, giving him a plain glass fruit dish, “and put your oyster in it.”

“But,” said Willis, “oysters live in sea water, which is salty.”

“Yes; they do live in sea water. In order to grow and thrive they must have vegetable and mineral substances found in sea water. But they can live in fresh water. Oystermen make a practice of moving them from their banks to spots near the mouth of a river where the water is not nearly so salty or even quite fresh. Here they get washed out and freshened. They look plumper and some of the strong, salty taste being taken away, they have a more delicate flavor. All the largest oysters in the market are fattened in that way.”

Willis did as directed.

“Do you notice how the oyster is covered?” asked his aunt.

“Yes, it has two shells which are joined like a hinge at the smaller end.”

“Do you notice that they are different?”

“One shell is larger and deeper near the hinge. The outside of it is white and pretty. The shelly matter is laid in rings, some of which seem full, making me think of a tucked and ruffled skirt. The other shell is smaller, darker and nearly flat.”

“Ask Bridget if she has some small crackers to give you one. Powder it and throw it on top of the water. If she has none a spoonful of corn meal will do for food. Animals which are deprived of natural ways of getting a living must be supplied with suitable food.”

When he had done that she handed him a pair of shells, in one of which lay an oyster. “Here is another one which I had opened for you. I am very busy to-day. While the company is here you can amuse yourself by watching what happens. Examine the dead oyster and find out what you can about it.”

Willis was delighted with his odd pet. He watched the live creature for some time. At first its two shells were tightly closed. After being quiet for some time it cautiously opened its shell a little way as though it was peeping at him. He was so pleased that he grabbed his hat and ran to fetch his neighbor schoolmate, Joseph. Once in a while a bit of cracker would be drawn between the shells and, in time, disappear. The two boys were very much interested.

“Let us look at the dead oyster, Willis.”

“All right.”

Taking a toothpick in his hand he tried to turn over the oyster in the shell. He found that a thickened muscle near the middle part was fastened to the half shell. Tearing it loose he saw at this place a dark, purplish spot just like one on the other half shell.

“I wonder what makes that hard spot?”

“Oh, see, Joseph! Its body has two sides. The side lying in the deeper piece of shell is larger. Down the middle is a division and the edges come together something like the cover of a book. Over all is a white covering with such pretty frilled edges. See, I can roll it back quite a little way.”

“That is so. How pretty it is. It has no head. Does it eat? I wonder if it has a mouth.”