Birds and Nature, Vol. 12 No. 2 [July 1902]

Each tree is a kinsman of friendly heart.

We love the clear bird songs that fill our ear
With melody ringing for us alone.
The cricket’s chirp is for us, and we hear
A human voice in the rivulet’s tone.

Each lovely thing of nature finds room
In our heart of hearts – our lover and mate,
The star and the dew and the vine’s sweet bloom
Are fitted to us, and our spirit innate.

They are kinsmen – each century blazing star!
Each snowclad summit, each rose-flushed peak
Have most subtle oneness with us, for afar
Of things sublime and eternal they speak.

With all beautiful things that live, we are one.
We are kin to the circle of nature’s whole.
So, O beautiful trees that stand in the sun,
Your beauty entrancing slips into the soul.

For the children of one great Kinsman above
Are the myriad forms of nature and we.
Kinsman, Creator, He fits our love
To the star and the flower, the bird and the tree.

    – Mrs. Merrill E. Gates.

THE LONG-BILLED CURLEW

(Numenius longirostris.)

Each day are heard, and almost every hour,
New notes to swell the music of the groves,
And soon the latest of the feathered train
At evening twilight come; – the lonely snipe,
O’er marshy fields, high in the dusky air,
Invisible, but, with faint, tremulous tones,
Hovering or playing o’er the listener’s head.

    – Carlos Wilcox, “The Age of Benevolence.”
The Long-billed Curlew is the largest of the American curlews and has a wide range covering nearly the whole of temperate North America. It is not a bird of high altitudes and in winter it seeks the milder climate of the Southern States, Mexico, Guatemala, Cuba and Jamaica. During the breeding season, which is passed in the South Atlantic States or in the interior of North America as far north as Manitoba, it is not a social bird. While migrating, however, and in winter, it enjoys the society of its fellows and is generally observed in flocks of a greater or less number.

Mr. Wilson has well described its flight during migration or when passing from one feeding ground to another. He says, “The Curlews fly high, generally in a wedge-like form, somewhat resembling certain ducks, occasionally uttering their loud, whistling note, by a dexterous imitation of which a whole flock may sometimes be enticed within gunshot, while the cries of the wounded are sure to detain them until the gunner has made repeated shots and great havoc among them.”

Though the natural home of the curlews is the muddy shores and grassy lowlands adjacent to bodies of water the Long-billed species also frequents drier places at a distance from water, and even breeds in the uplands. Here their food consists of worms, insects and berries. When fattened with such food their flesh is tender and lacks the stronger flavor that is present when they have fed exclusively on the animal food of the marshes of the sea shore. It is interesting to watch the Curlew upon the beach as it gracefully moves from point to point in search of food. Now and then it thrusts its long sensitive bill into the soft soil and usually draws forth some form of animal food – a larva of some insect, a crab, a snail or a worm. Frequently it will explore the holes of crawfish and it is often rewarded with a dainty morsel of curlew food.

The Curlew’s bill is very characteristic and especially adapted to the bird’s habit of probing for food. It is very variable in length and not infrequently grows to a length of seven or eight inches, and it has been known to reach a length of nearly nine inches. The upper mandible is somewhat longer than the under and is provided with a knob at the tip. The bill is much curved, a characteristic which has given the bird the names Sickle-bill and Sickle-billed Curlew or Snipe. It was the curved bill that suggested to Linnaeus the generic name Numenius for the curlews. It is a Greek word meaning the new moon. The long bill also suggested to Wilson the specific name longirostris or long-snouted.

Dr. Coues says, “Its voice is sonorous and not at all musical. During the breeding season, in particular, its harsh cries of alarm resound when the safety of its nest or young is threatened.”

The Long-billed Curlew spends but little time in home building. Its nest consists of a layer of grass placed in any suitable saucer shaped hollow on the ground.

The downy young resemble the adult bird but little. In color they are a pale brownish yellow modified by a trace of sulphur yellow, the under parts being somewhat darker. The upper parts are irregularly mottled with coarse black spots. At this period in the life of this Curlew, the bill is straight and about one and one-half inches in length.

ON JEWELLED WINGS

There are few or none who fail to delight in the beauty of the butterfly, while to the thinker its different stages of existence are rich with lessons in which the analogy-loving soul of man can revel to fullest gratification. Flitting about above the things of earth it seems to descend for rest only, or to sip the sweets of some nectar-bearing flower. In the sunshine all day long, chasing at will through field or woodland, and with no more care than the so-called “butterflies of fashion” (not as much, for it needs to give no thought to the fashion or fit of its garb), it basks till nightfall in the delights that go to make up its ethereal existence.

But whenever we thus watch the brilliant little creature we should remember that it has come up through many changes and tribulations to this its last and perfect stage. Weeks, months, or – as in the case of one or two species – three years before, a tiny egg was deposited in some safe, secluded spot, the parent butterflies dying soon after because of their mission being then accomplished.

The egg is the first stage of the butterfly, as it is also of the moth. The eggs of the different species vary greatly in size and shape, and are deposited in as many different kinds of places. Some are placed on the under side of leaves, others on the outside of the cocoon; some are glued together in rings around the smaller branches of fruit trees, others on the interior of bee-hives. In this stage they remain for periods varying from a few weeks to three years, when the larva or caterpillar state is entered upon. The larvæ are very greedy, beginning to eat as soon as hatched and devouring the leaves, spreading themselves over the web prepared for them by the parent, ravaging the fruit trees, or routing the bees from their rightful possessions. A number of changes of skin take place during the larval stage, ranging from five to ten. Some are smooth-skinned and are used by insectivorous animals for food, while others are hairy and on this account are rejected as food, the hair having the power of stinging much the same as nettles.

Having attained its full growth the instincts of the caterpillar undergo a change. It ceases to eat and begins to weave a couch or cocoon round about itself by which it is finally more or less enclosed. It then throws off the caterpillar or larval skin and appears in the third stage.

This state of its existence seems to me the most mysterious and therefore the most interesting. More than one of these cocoons have I found attached to walls, fences, limbs and in similar places, looking as though they were but the dried-up remains of some species of insect life. But there was life within them, a germ which sooner or later would spring forth in all the wonderful beauty of the moth or the butterfly.

This third period is termed the pupa, nymph or chrysalis state. Its duration varies from a few weeks to several months, according to the time of year at which it enters this stage. The common Cabbage Butterfly, which rears two broods during the season, is quickest to make the change, only a few weeks of the pupa form being necessary. Some remain in the chrysalis a month or more, appearing in the butterfly form at the close of the summer. Those becoming encased in autumn are like the hibernating animals in many respects, lying dormant the winter through. The only sign of life ever discovered in the pupa is a convulsive twitching when irritated, and for this reason those who know nothing of the hidden beauties of butterfly life miss a great deal of pleasure in not being able to study the seemingly lifeless chrysalis.

When mature the pupa case cracks toward the anterior end, and the butterfly or moth crawls forth with wings which, though at first small and crumpled up, in a few hours attain their full size. As soon as they are strong enough the new creature mounts upon them and, if it be a butterfly, flies out into the sunlight; while the moth hies away to some dark corner until nightfall, then for the first time in its existence it rises upon wings to enjoy the summer zephyrs.

I remember having watched one butterfly leave the chrysalis and, though but a child at the time, I shall never outlive the impressions which that rare pleasure left with me. It was one of the large-winged, black-white-and-yellow fellows which every one admires so much, and which species is regarded as a treasure here in these Central States. Little by little the ugly casing opened, and when I first saw the baby butterfly he was like a tiny mass of mingled colors, with neither life nor shape to give me an idea of the sort of creature into which he would develop. Soon he began to move uneasily, like a child awaking out of a long sleep; then he stretched his wings leisurely as though proud to have found them at last. Next he drew himself up and finished bursting his paper-like shell, gained a foothold on the plank on which we had placed him and looked about with a, seemingly, very much surprised though gratified air. Meanwhile he kept working his wings and stretching them anon, very impatient because of their, to him, slow growth. At last he gained the confidence to try them, and within an hour from the time we first saw him he had arisen and flown away into the sunshine to seek his place in the world.