Birds and Nature Vol. 11 No. 1 [January 1902]

The Brown-headed Nuthatch is abundant from Louisiana and Florida to the southern part of Maryland. It also strays, at times, farther north, for it has been taken in Illinois, Michigan and Ohio. In the pine woods of the Southern States it passes a happy existence, always chattering in bird language even when its head is downward. “Each one chatters away without paying the slightest attention to what his companions are saying.” Mr. Chapman says: “There is such a lack of sentiment in the nuthatch’s character, he seems so matter-of-fact in all his ways, that it is difficult to imagine him indulging in anything like a song.” Though these words have reference to another species, they apply equally well to the Brown-headed form, whose only note seems to be a monotonous and oft-repeated utterance of a single syllable.

For its nest it selects a suitable hole in the trunk of a tree, or in a stump, that is usually not far from the ground. This it lines with grasses, fine, soft fibers and feathers. Here are laid about six creamy white eggs that are spotted with a brownish color. The parents are attentive to their young and seldom associate with others of their kind till these family cares are finished. Then they become more sociable and are found in companionship not only with other Brown-heads but also with woodpeckers, warblers and chickadees.

MY RED-HEADED NEIGHBORS

I

For five years, with each returning spring, a pair of red-headed woodpeckers has come, to make their nest and rear their brood of young near my cabin door. It was on a cold drizzly day the last of April, when I first observed my new neighbor. He was closely watching me as he dodged about the trunk of a dead tree standing in the yard.

Unmindful of the falling rain, he put in the day pecking and pounding away, seemingly in search of food, occasionally flying away or hitching around the tree as some one passed, returning to his quest as soon as the coast was clear.

Not until the next morning on awaking and hearing my neighbor industriously hammering away, did I suspect he was making a nest, having selected a place on the trunk of the tree about ten feet from the ground, and facing the noon-day sun. He proved to be no stickler for time, working early and late with short intermissions, when he would dart out into the air and stop some passing insect that was quickly disposed of. At the end of two weeks the nest had been completed and on the same day the female arrived. Was it a coincidence? It would seem so, for each succeeding year the male preceded his mate by a fortnight, in which time the place was selected and the new home made ready in which there was no straw, no feathers, nothing but the deep cavernous pocket, clean and fresh, perfumed with the pungent odor of decaying wood.

As the days went by they came to be less afraid of and more neighborly with me, paying little or no attention to my passing or repassing.

After repeatedly testing every available object in the vicinity of the nest, the male finally selected as his drumming place the roof-board of the cabin, where in lieu of song, he beat off many a short strain, like the roll of a snare drum, that was intended for and easily heard by his mate as she kept warm the eggs in the nest near by.

In the matter of incubating each took part, though the female devotes by far the more time, usually remaining on the nest from one to two hours, when the old man would spell her for about twenty minutes, in which time she makes her toilet and indulges her insectivorous appetite. At the end of two weeks they carried out of the nest and dropped, as they flew across the yard, the broken fragments of shell. Now the greatest of all mysteries has taken place. Like some beautiful creation of art that is to be, but as yet is an unexpressed thought in some human brain, so the bird within the egg is but a thought till, warmed by the parent’s soft downy breast, the life lines throb and pulsate till the swelling life within bursts the shell. Now instead of eggs requiring warmth the old birds have two hungry mouths demanding food, that keeps them busy. Yet they knew it, knew it all from the very first; every act was intelligent, not instinctive. During the first days of the baby birds, much care was given to the preparation of their food; the legs, wings and antennae were removed from each bug or beetle. On some dead limb convenient to the nest, a small hole the size of a lady’s thimble had been prepared, and into this improvised mortar the body of the insect was placed and pounded to a pulp before feeding. This care was not long continued, as the young birds were soon capable of eating whatever is given them.

The next ten days were full of business for my neighbors. Throughout the days they were constantly in pursuit of the passing life that filled the air. Each catch was quickly delivered to the baby birds, whose appetite seemed never to be satisfied.

The young birds quickly grew to be squabs, and their bodies were covered with a downy coat resembling fur more than feathers. Soon came the last week in the home before their formal “coming out.” Feathers quickly took the place of down; the rapid feeding was greatly lessened, to which the baby birds made constant complaint in a whimpering cry as they peeked out of the nest into the big world where so soon they were to be launched on their first flight, never to return to the nest.

II

It was about the tenth of May of the following spring when my red-headed neighbor returned from his southern trip, where he had spent the winter. He was soon hard at work and had the lawn sprinkled with his white chips about the root of a pine stub, as he burrowed into the wood a few feet above, where he was making a new nest, the spot having been selected during the past summer. Here, at that time, he had done some preliminary work in the way of a prospect hole, evidently with the view of returning.

With a quick hammer-like stroke of the head, he drove his sharp polished beak into the decaying wood, rapidly repeating the strokes till the pulpy fiber was broken down and then with a mouthful of the loosened fragments, he hitched back out of the entrance, flinging the chips to the wind.

After a quick survey of the surrounding and a peek around the tree to see if there was any approaching danger, he dove into the hole again to make further excavations, soon returning, tail first, with another mouthful of refuse. After several days’ work on the new nest, he came in contact with the hard resinous heart of a knot that he was unable to remove. To get by this obstruction and still be able to utilize the work done, he changed the entrance from a circle to an ellipse by extending it downward. This bit of strategy worked well in getting by the difficulty, but it proved to be only temporary.

The nest was completed in the allotted two weeks and the female came on time. After a very warm greeting she was shown the nest for her approval; but on sight of the new-fangled entrance, she halted, showing her disapproval in many ways. To overcome her objections, the old man went in and out as a demonstration; then hopping close up to her side, he talked in a low voice, making many gestures with his head, sometimes picking at the tree in an absent-minded way, as a man thoughtlessly whittles while pleading his cause. Seeing that she did not readily assent, he went in and out three or four times in rapid succession; then sidling up to her again began his persuasive chatter, but all to no purpose; she gave a decided answer and flew away.

After a little hesitation he followed her. In about an hour they came back. After some maneuvering about the yard he got her back to the nest, but not in it. He tried in every way, but no amount of coaxing could induce her to go in, and refusing to listen longer to his argument, she again flew away. Now he was disconsolate, flying away, then returning to go in and take another look at the nest, then flying to the housetop to pout. Yes, pout, for at all other times he would drum and make a great deal of noise; now, he was sulky and silent.

Next morning they came back, when, if possible, he tried harder than ever to get her to inspect the nest, but without success. She was obdurate, and, after sitting quiet until he was through his demonstrations and chatter, she flew away over the fields, uttering a loud cry as she left him sticking to the side of the tree. He sat still a few moments, seemingly in a brown study, then he began hopping about the trunk of the tree, where in a short time he had selected a place and gone to work with a will in making a new nest, that was completed in a little more than eight days. Very little was seen of the female during the completion of the new home. She was in the yard a few times, but never near the tree where the male was at work.

He had made no mistake this time, the entrance was round and clean cut as an augur hole. When the madam was escorted to the new nest there was no hesitation about inspecting it; she entered at once. Coming out a moment later, she made it known that the nest was satisfactory. Then the old man was jubilant, expressing it by voice and action. From this moment domestic affairs went on as usual and the family jar was forgotten, so far as an outsider could observe.

Eggs, baby birds, busy days, fall and southern journey, ended this year with my pleasant summer neighbor.

III

Many times during the following winter they were the subject of my thoughts. I wondered where they were and whether they would return. Yes, early one morning of the next spring I was awakened by his beating a reveille in the same old place on the roof-board of the cabin. With little delay he selected a place for the new home. Then followed a fortnight of hard work and vigilance when the excavation was completed and only awaited the coming of his better half, who was as prompt in her arrival.

There are families to raise; there are thousands of flies, bugs and beetles to catch, for which they are never given credit, but let them take a berry and it is “Johnnie, get your gun.” Early one bright morning in July there was noise and bustle about the woodpecker home. It was not difficult to guess what was going to take place. The parents were close by the nest on the side of the tree. The little birds had crowded out of the entrance, eager for their first flight, which, like the first tottering steps of a baby, is attended with much chatter and nonsense that is not understood.

The mother set an example by flying to a tree some fifty feet distant. The little birds followed with a labored effort and, striking the tree with a thud near the ground, managed to stick fast. Now began their arboreal life of tree climbing at which they were awkward at first and had many falls. The young birds were a soft smoky gray. There was no sign as yet of the cardinal cap and white bodice with black chevrons, which would make them so conspicuous during the next year.

In their daily visits to the yard each parent chaperoned one of the baby birds, teaching it all the tricks in the woodpecker trade, as they conducted it from tree to tree where they searched amid the bark and worm holes for morsels of food that had been secreted there.

One day late in October they failed to return; this ended another year and brought another separation.

IV

As promptly as ever the following spring found my summer tourists in their old haunts, each year getting a little closer if possible to the cabin with their nest.

Household affairs went along smoothly till one day the old man was keeping house while the madam had gone out for lunch. At the expiration of about twenty minutes he came out of the nest. As he flew away he gave a loud call that on former occasions had invariably brought his mate to take charge of the nest, but to this call she did not answer. She never returned. He waited a few moments, calling for her, then returned to the nest. Ten minutes later he came out again, repeating the call several times as he flew from tree to house and back again to the nest, about which he showed much concern. Five minutes more and for the third time he left the nest, flying down in the orchard where the female often went for food. Soon returning he went direct to the nest, seeming to understand that some misfortune had overtaken his mate.

Like Mark Tapley, when the occasion demanded he came out strong, for with scarcely an intermission he stuck to the nest for the next three days. Then he carried out the broken shells and began bringing food for two mouths that were always agape. With a desire to assist him I daily placed bits of food on a certain stump in the yard. He soon came to understand the meaning of my visits and to regard these tit-bits as belonging to himself. He would fly to the house top and watch me put out the food. As soon as I turned away he would drop off the roof, spread his wings, slide down on the air with a long graceful sweep, bringing up on the edge of the stump.

Nodding and chattering, he hitched around the stump, tasting each bit of food, eating what he liked, but rarely giving any of this food to the babies. No matter whether he ate it or not, no other bird was permitted to trespass.

The undivided care of the family left little time for personal attention. He looked shabby and forlorn by the time the young birds were old enough to quit the nest and seek their own food. Then he spent much time in mending his appearance.

Each passing year my attachment had grown for my summer visitors. The thought that he might never return, owing to the loss of his mate, worried me.

The summer passed; the days grew short and the night grew frosty. The blackbird family would soon be on their way to the sunny south, and I should miss their familiar voices and many cunning pranks about the yard.

V

Early one May morning the next spring I was greatly pleased to hear the well remembered call. I knew my old-time friend had come to spend his summer sojourn in the yard amid the scenes of former years.

He flitted about the yard in his old familiar way, tapping off his short quick rattle on the roof-board which reverberated through the cabin.

He was happy again. Why not? He had brought with him a new bride. She was afraid of me. He showed her by example that I would not hurt them, but on sight of me she slipped around the stumps and trees, and at the least approach flew away.

    William Harrison Lewis.

BEAUTIFUL SNOW

Beautiful snowflakes are softly falling
Like down from an angel’s wings,
Beautiful snowflakes are softly falling
While the snow bird merrily sings.

Beautiful snowflakes are softly falling,
From the clouds they come whirling down,
Like the dust from the floor of a crystal palace,
And cover the frozen ground.

Beautiful snowflakes are softly falling,
Covering the ground with white;
The flowers of summer have withered and faded,
The robin has taken his flight.

Beautiful snowflakes are softly falling,
They bring joy to young and old;
Beautiful-snowflakes are watching and waiting