Birds and All Nature, Vol. III, No. 3, March 1898

Are whisperings to me.
So, when swift impulse leads in ways unknown,
I follow on without a thought of fear;
God reigns, and I can never be alone,
With Nature near.

    – Tom Carder, Jr.

HINTS ON THE STUDY OF WINTER BIRDS

IN attractiveness to children, says James E. McDade, for the Committee of Sixty of Chicago, no department of natural history surpasses Ornithology. Birds are to be found everywhere. In the city parks and suburban groves careful observation will reveal objects of study, even in the depths of winter. The following suggestions are based on practical work which has been done in the G. W. Curtis school during the past two years.

No satisfactory work can be done until the children have been aroused to sufficient interest to observe birds for themselves. Pictures and descriptions, however valuable as auxiliaries, can never take the place of personal observation. The best method of arousing this interest is to go out with the children and study the birds. Opera glasses or field glasses will greatly facilitate observation.

As a guide in description pupils may have in mind the following points: shape and size of bird; prevailing color; marks on head, wings, throat, or tail; shape of bill; length of tail; where found (whether on the ground, in trees, or climbing tree trunks). These and other details should be emphasized.

In all this work strict accuracy must be insisted on. In the beginning, pupils are apt to give inaccurate, and, in some instances, highly imaginary descriptions of birds. A good plan is to encourage them to bring in written descriptions of birds they have seen.

Such field work may well furnish excellent subject matter for water color work, as well as a basis for written compositions. Good collections of our native birds may be found in the Field Columbian Museum and in the museum of the Chicago Academy of Sciences, and the curators of these institutions will be found ready to give teachers any aid in their power.

Mr. McDade mentions the following as the most common winter birds of this vicinity, not including swimmers and waders: the English Sparrow, the Snow Bird, the Bluejay, the Thistle-bird, the Black-capped Chickadee, the White-bellied Nuthatch, the Northern Shrike or Butcherbird, the Horned Lark, and the Crow.

In many parts of the country there are good collections of birds which are accessible, and which may, by a little inquiry, be found by those interested. We do not hesitate to say, however, that the specimens of birds shown monthly in this magazine have stimulated the successful study of Ornithology to a degree never imagined as possible. The pictures are so true to nature in color and attitude that they are instantly fixed in the mind. We know several instances where children of eight and ten years have become by its use so familiar with many birds that they can draw and paint them from memory with considerable fidelity. Birds is indeed the best means of acquiring speedy as well as accurate knowledge of Ornithology desired by those who do not expect to pursue the study in all its scientific ramifications. We refer with confidence to the recognized authorities on the subject.

    C. C. Marble.

THE SILVER PHEASANT

The Peasant Cocke the woods doth most frequent,
Where Spaniells spring and pearche him by the sent.

    – Old Rhyme.
IN beautiful contrast with the Golden Pheasant (see Birds, Vol. 1, p. 13) we present this month the magnificent Silver or Penciled Pheasant, also a native of China, which has long been introduced into Europe, but has been considered to be fitted only for the aviary. The Pheasant was long thought to have been brought from the banks of the river Phasis, now the Rioni, in Colchis, and introduced into Europe by the Argonauts. Newton says that, as a matter of fact, nothing is known on this point; and, judging from the recognition of the remains of several species referred to, both in Greece and in France, it seems not impossible that the ordinary Pheasant may have been indigenous to England.

It was thought only a few years ago that the successful propagation of Pheasants was problematical, but now the Mongolian, the English Ring-necked, and the Chinese Golden Pheasant, each has found a home in some of the states, where it is increasing in numbers. Why may not a similar experiment be made with the Silver Pheasant?

On Fox Island, in Puget Sound, there is an oriental Pheasant preserve. Mr. Frank Alling, the proprietor, is securing the co-operation of other land owners, and it promises to be a great success. The varieties of Pheasants which he is raising include all we have mentioned in this article, as well as the Copper, the Green, the Bronze, and the Asiatic Ring-necks, with a curiosity in the shape of a mule produced by crossing and recrossing the Copper and Asiatic Ring-necks. The mule hens are very beautiful, but their eggs will not hatch. Oriental Quails liberated on the island have increased quite rapidly. Among the many importations are small Bantams from Woo Sung, China, for hatching Pheasant eggs and rearing the young birds; Mandarin Ducks, from Japan, (see Birds, Vol. I, p. 9); Wild Peacocks and Bleeding Heart Pigeons, from Calcutta, India, and Manila, respectively.

In England within recent years the practice of bringing up Pheasants by hand has been extensively followed, and the numbers so reared, says Newton, vastly exceed those that are bred at large. The eggs are collected from birds that are either running wild or kept in a mew, and are placed under domestic hens; but, though these prove most attentive foster-mothers, much additional care on the part of the keepers is needed to insure the arrival at maturity of the chicks; for, being necessarily crowded in a comparatively small space, they are subject to several diseases which often carry off a large proportion, to say nothing of the risk they run of not being provided with proper food or of meeting an early death from some predatory animal. As they advance in age the young Pheasants readily take to a wild life, and indeed can only be kept from wandering in every direction by being plentifully supplied with food, which has to be scattered for them in the places in which it is desired that they should stay.

EIDER DUCK FARMS

The Fluffy Feathers Gathered in Iceland

ALL ACCOUNTS I have read about Eider Ducks say that nests are robbed of their down twice, the duck supplying it each time from her own body; the third time the drake gives his white down, and this is allowed to remain, declares a writer in Good Words. But I was told by farmers in Iceland that now they never take the down until the little ones are hatched. It has been found that the birds thrive better and increase faster when they are allowed to live as nature meant them to. So now the poor mothers are no longer obliged to strip themselves of all their down to refurnish their despoiled nests. Sometimes, if the quantity is very great, a little may be taken, but enough must be left to cover the eggs when the duck leaves her nest for food.

A writer from Iceland, in speaking of a visit to one of the Isafjord farms, wrote: "On the coast was a wall built of large stones, just above high water level, about three feet high and of considerable thickness at the bottom. On both sides of it alternate stones had been left out so as to form a series of square compartments for the ducks to make their nests in. Almost every compartment was occupied, and as we walked along the shore a line of ducks flew out, one after another. The house was a marvel; the earthen walls that surround it and the window embrasures were occupied with ducks. On the ground the house was fringed with ducks. On the turf slopes of the roof we could see ducks, and ducks sat on the scraper."

About 10,000 pounds of eiderdown are gathered annually in Iceland, 7,000 being exported to foreign countries. Formerly the peasants used to receive over 21 shillings a pound, but the price has now fallen to half that amount. The peasants seldom receive money, and are obliged to barter their down for merchandise furnished by the Danish merchants at the little settlements at the fjords. A pound and a half of down is enough to fill an ordinary bed-puff. These very comfortable articles are found in the guest room of every Iceland farm, however poor and small it may be. After a long, hard day in the saddle the traveler longs for warmth and shelter. These little guest rooms have never had a fire in them, and built, as they are, on the ground, there is a dreadful chill on them. Once tucked away in bed, and tired bones lose their pains and stiffness, however, and well covered with the down-puff, a delightful sense of comfort follows.

THE SCALED PARTRIDGE

THROUGHOUT Northwestern Mexico and the border of the United States, from Western Texas to New Mexico and Southern Arizona, this handsome Partridge, called the Blue Quail, is found in abundance, especially on the dry mesas of the San Pedro slope of the Santa Catalina Mountains, up to an altitude of three thousand five hundred feet. In Arizona they are found in flocks of from six to ten, sometimes more, in the most barren places, miles away from water.

The Blue Quail, like all the other western and southwestern species, prefers to trust to safety to its powers of running, rather than those of flight. The great trouble is to start them from the ground.

A slight depression under a bush serves for the nest of this bird, which is generally lined with a few coarse grasses. Complete sets of eggs have been found as early as April 25. The eggs are extremely thick-shelled, of a buffy-white or cream color. The number laid ranges from eight to sixteen.

The habits of this Quail do not differ greatly from those of Bob White, though they have not been fully studied, and the species is of less extensive distribution.

THE MOUND BIRD

There are some peculiar birds in the world, and one of the strangest is the Australian Megapod, or Mound bird, that allows nature to perform the labor of hatching its eggs. In some parts of the island continent are found many mounds of considerable size and height, which the first explorers took for burial mounds. These were made by the "Megapodius Tumulus," which uses them for hatching its eggs. They have sometimes considerable dimensions. A nest that is 14 feet high and 55 feet in circumference may be regarded as large. Each Megapod builds its own nest with materials which it gathers from all sides, and these are exactly what the gardener uses in the month of March to make his forcing beds – namely, leaves and decomposing vegetable matter, which by their fermentation give off an appreciable amount of heat. In the forcing beds this heat hastens the sprouting of the seeds; in the nest it suffices for the development and hatching of the young birds, and the mother can go where she likes and occupy herself as she wishes without being troubled by the duties of sitting. In the small islands of Ninafou, in the Pacific, another bird has a somewhat similar habit, in so far as it also abandons its eggs, but in place of obtaining the necessary heat from fermentation it gets it from the warm sand. The Leipoa or native Pheasant of Australia acts like the Megapod and watches the temperature of its mound very closely, covering and uncovering the eggs several times a day to cool them or heat them, as becomes necessary. After hatching, the young bird remains in the mound several hours; it leaves on the second day, but returns for the night, and not until the third day is it able to leave for good the paternal abode. —American Field.

THE NEW TENANTS

By Elanora Kinsley Marble

Mr. Wren had no need to inquire the cause of his mate's distress, for at this moment a loud and vehement Jay-jay-jay, resounded from an adjacent tree.

"Ha!" said he, "it is that villian Mr. Blue Jay at last. I have been expecting a call from him for some time. I heard yesterday that he was caught sucking the eggs of Mrs. Red-eyed Vireo, and that Mrs. Dove was mourning more than usual because out of four beautiful eggs she had only one left. But never you mind, my dear, never you mind! He daren't go near our nest you see, for Bridget is out there with her broom, and if he should dare attack us, why – "

"Well!" chirped Mrs. Wren, who at once saw the force of his reasoning, "what would you do, Mr. Wren, should he attack us? I'd like to know because? I am quite sure what dear papa would have done under the circumstances."

"So am I," responded Mr. Wren with a chuckle, "so am I."

"So are you – what?" retorted Mrs. Wren, angrily tapping the perch on which she sat with her foot.

"Sure what your dear papa would have done, my dear, under the circumstances. Ha, ha, ha!" and Mr. Wren flirted his tail over his head and hopped about in anything but a dignified or warrior-like manner.

Mrs. Wren surveyed him with contempt and surprise.

"Of all the ex-as-per-at-ing creatures," she said, "you are the worst. First you whispered and bid me be silent, and now just look at you hopping about and jibbering like an idiot! I wish Mr. Blue Jay would come over here and – "

"Come over here?" Mr. Wren almost turned a somersault in his glee. "Come over here, my dear! Not much! Don't you see that Kingbird over there with his eye on Mr. Jay! There's going to be a fight, a real knock-down, feather-pulling fight, and I —I won't be in it!" and Mr. Wren whistled and chattered and flirted his tail in a greatly relieved and truly funny manner.

"If I wasn't so anxious about the eggs," said Mrs. Wren, "I'd stay here and see the fight, too. They are well matched, both such fine, handsome birds – especially Mr. Jay. Ah, how it does all remind me of dear papa."

Mr. Wren could have laughed aloud when he thought of her plain, crooked-legged little father, but he only sniffed and said something about Mr. Jay being a saucy, impudent dude.

"But really, now, he is handsome," repeated Mrs. Wren, "only see how his head feathers stand up! My, how angry they both are. What can be the matter, I wonder?"

"If you will stop talking for a minute," returned Mr. Wren, "perhaps we can hear. Mr. Blue Jay is a great coward when it comes to fighting one of his size. More than likely he will sneak away, or fly off screaming loudly at the first signs of attack."

"If you will stop your chatter," sharply retorted Mrs. Wren, "we may hear what they are saying. Listen, can't you?"

"You old thief and pickpocket," shrieked Mr. Kingbird, his head feathers standing up like an Indian chief's, "whose nest around here are you lying in wait to rob?"

"What business is it of yours?" retorted Mr. Jay with a sneer. "You old tyrant! A nice fellow, indeed, to be calling people names. The pot calling the kettle black. Humph!"