Birds and Nature Vol. 9 No. 3 [March 1901]

“That makes me think,” said Mrs. Thrush, “that I promised the children an especially nice supper to-night if they would not chirp or stick up their heads and look over the edge of the nest. They are really getting so big now that Mr. Thrush and I can do nothing with them. Last night when I went home I found my eldest son, Brown Thrush, sitting on the edge of the nest, and he is taller – ”

Just then a large shadow wavered over the sunshiny sward, and with a scared exclamation of “Hawk!” the birds flew swiftly in different directions, not waiting to see that the object which cast the shadow was nothing but a harmless paper kite.

    S. E. McKee.

THE MARBLED MURRELET

(Brachyramphus marmoratus.)

This little bird belongs to the family of auks and puffins, the guillemots and the dovekie. It is the sea bird family (Alcidae) for all the species are maritime, spending most of their time on the ocean. Nearly all the species frequent the Pacific coast of North America. A few are, however, found on the Atlantic coast. They seem to frequent the wildest and most rocky shores and generally congregate in large colonies which may include several species. Their structure unfits them for locomotion on the land where they move in an uncouth and awkward manner, but they are agile and quick swimmers and expert divers. It is said that they will remain under water for several minutes, swimming for long distances. They use their wings in diving. The Marbled Murrelet inhabits the coast of the Pacific ocean from San Diego, California, northward, breeding only in the northern part of its range. These birds are seldom found at any great distance inland. It is said that their nests, like those of the petrels, are built in holes in banks or in burrows in the ground. They have also been known to lay their eggs in the open crevices of cliffs where but little effort is made to build a nest other than the gathering together of a few sticks and twigs.

The ovate eggs are of a buffy color and are marked with varying shades of brown.

BEFORE THE STORM

A whir and sweep of snow-white wings,
Soft brown-flecked breasts, now here, now there
A-sway upon the ragged weeds
Or darting through the wintry air.
I watch you from the frosted pane
Beside the glowing hearth-stone warm,
And shudder as I hear the wail
Of angry winds before the storm.

    – Mary Morrison.

BOY-CHICKADEE

I doubt if any one was ever haunted by a more commonplace object than a fence-post; yet, terminating a fence that borders a little farm, there is a gray old post which has haunted my imagination for several years. The fence has long ceased to fence anything in or out; the uppermost rail is the only one left and that is fastened to my post about five inches from the top. Just under the lee of that rail is a round hole which is rather jagged about the lower edge as if gnawed by sharp little teeth. Every time I travel that road I am impelled to stop and put a finger into that hole. I always expect to discover a secret, yet never do. Still, the post haunts me for once Boy-Chickadee kept house there.

Boy-Chickadee is one of our smallest birds. He wears a dumpy little gray coat surmounted by a pair of bright black eyes under a velvety black cap. Dear to the heart of every bird-lover, he is especially so in winter. It is then that his crystal pendulum of song swings lightly to and fro where other bird-song is rare. It is rather plaintive – two minor notes swing to the left, then two more to the right – and seems to belong only to frosty mornings. Boy-Chickadee stays to wish you “A Merry Christmas” and “A Happy New Year,” and comes daily to dine on sunflower seeds stowed in a large gourd for him. I should be ashamed to say how many seeds he consumes at a sitting, or flitting better describes it. He flits in for a seed, then out to the apple-tree to hammer it, uttering gurgles of content all the while. He spends so much time eating them that I eye my store anxiously wondering if it will hold out under such onslaughts. Sometimes he brings a companion and they take turns going into the gourd. His British enemies tag him enviously and hang about the gourd-door; but it is cut too small for them and they can only gaze in. It is Boy-Chickadee’s cache.

In summer time Chickadee deserts us and we must seek him in the fields, and that is how we came to find the fence-post. We sat waiting for birds to bathe, but waited in vain. They bathed up-stream and they bathed down-stream. We saw them drying their feathers, but they would not bathe by us. A dripping Chickadee flew overhead and sat preening his feathers in a sweetgum tree. How nearly we had come to seeing that bath! (a thing we had never achieved). In despair we crossed the road and hid behind the sassafras hedge. Presently something strange passed us and there was Dame Chickadee with a very queer burden. Imagine yourself with a mouthful of excelsior larger than your head, and you will have some idea of her comical appearance. She peered at us from behind her treasure first with one eye and then with the other. We were all attention. A dozen times she darted towards the old fence, but we were too alarming and she could not make up her mind to brave us. Each time she retreated to the sweetgum, holding tight to her bundle – it might have been a clematis blossom, I could not say. It was the first time I had ever seen a Chickadee look self-conscious. At the same time we saw that Boy-Chickadee had dipped in once more and was dripping wet. It was maddening. At last she made a wide curve towards us and disappeared. I sprang to the fence-post and discovered the round hole, and with an ecstatic catch of the breath I put one finger in. A bunch of indignant feathers hurled itself against my hand and out came the finger and out came she and whisked away with such lightning rapidity that we barely saw her. The hole was too deep and too well shadowed to tell us anything more than that it had a secret in its keeping and although we should have liked to camp by the post it was not to be.

At our next visit we found Dame Chickadee setting and Boy Chickadee feeding her; again, and the post had become a nursery. It seemed too ludicrous that such babes-in-the-woods should ever attain to the dignity of fatherhood and motherhood; but this time neither parent was there to be laughed at, and as I tapped at the door a perfectly intelligible “Day-day-day-day” came from the nursery; the babes had already learned to talk!

It was so long before we visited them again that we expected to find the post deserted. There was no sign of occupancy and I felt depressed because it was all over. But a gentle tap brought a tiny, angular cranium and a careworn baby face to the door. It didn’t seem possible that Boy Chickadee could have such a homely bairn! We withdrew in haste when he threatened to come out; but we had summoned him and the moment had come to seek his fortune. The youngster stepped into the door and set sail straight across the wide roadway. When we caught a rear view of the tiny sailboat our gravity was undone, for not a vestige of tail adorned it and he was the most unfinished fledgling we had ever seen.

This was the last sign of life the old fence-post yielded, but I cannot learn to believe it final. I am constantly expecting to see more Chickadees set sail, and its possibilities still haunt me.

    Elizabeth Nunemacher.

THE STORY BIRD

The parrot has been called the “bird-man” on account of its intelligence; but so many anecdotes are told of it that it might well be styled the Story-bird.

Of the four hundred and thirty different species known, America claims one hundred and twenty-six. Europe is the only large country that does not possess native tribes of parrots.

The parrot is the monkey of the feathered world, because of his imitative powers. He also uses one of his feet as a hand to carry what he eats to his beak.

A parrot possessed of remarkable linguistic powers, being able to speak in Spanish, Portuguese, French, German and English, was accustomed whenever a visitor was at all boisterous to imitate his laugh and then groan in anguish, exclaiming in tones of commiseration, “Poor, poor Polly!”

A cardinal is said to have paid a hundred crowns for a parrot that could recite without a blunder the Apostles’ creed and chant the Magnificat correctly.

An attempt was once made to reform a bad parrot which kept saying, in reference to his mistress, “I wish the old lady would die.”

The curate sent over his own bird, that had been religiously trained, hoping its influence would have a good effect on the bad bird. But whenever the latter said, “I wish the old lady would die,” the clergyman’s bird rolled up its eyes and exclaimed, “We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.”

    Belle P. Drury.

THE BEAR

Though the Bear is classed with the Carnivora, or flesh-eating animals, it is really omnivorous in the best acceptance of that word, for it will thrive on a vegetable diet for many weeks at a time. Bears will devour the various kinds of berries, grains, the succulent leaves of herbs and the fleshy roots, with evident relish. There is, perhaps, no more dainty morsel for them than the young and tender buds of trees and shrubs as they are prepared by Nature, wrapped in their winter covering and containing an abundant food, stored there for the nourishment of the growth of the coming season – a food useful to the animal as well as the plant. The young seem to depend entirely on vegetable food, but as they grow older, though still preferring the products of the plant, they will eat a variety of animal forms, such as insects, mollusks, crustaceans, worms, birds and their eggs. When driven by hunger they will kill and eat larger prey, such as deer and domestic cattle. They will also devour the dead bodies of animals freshly killed, but only before there is any taint or odor. Thus, though Bears have the structural characteristics of the flesh-eating animals, this classification is misleading to the untutored observer who watches them in our menageries or even in their native homes.

The Polar Bears are perhaps the most carnivorous of them all, living almost entirely on animal food, when in their natural homes. The Grizzly Bear is also a flesh-eating species, though it will subsist on a vegetable diet. It is an interesting fact that the nature of their food seems to determine the degree of strength and the ferocity that they possess. The influence of the diet is shown not only on the various species but also upon the individuals of the same species. The Bears fed only upon vegetable foods exhibit a much milder disposition and are less resentful when crossed.

Bears are distributed throughout the world except in Australia. In the words of Brehm, “They inhabit the warmest as well as the coldest of countries, high mountains as well as the coasts of the Arctic Sea. Nearly all species select dense, extensive forests or rocky regions, generally lonely spots. Some delight in watery or damp situations, streams, rivers, lakes, swamps and the sea, while others prefer stretches of dry land. One species is confined to the sea-coast and seldom penetrates the depths of the continent, but still undertakes more extensive migrations than the others, traversing great distances on drift ice, crossing the northern Arctic Ocean and migrating from one continent to the other.”

Besides the bears of the present day there are extinct forms, remains of which occur in the later geologic ages. The Great Cave Bear, remains of which have been found in the caves of Central Europe, indicate that this species was even larger than our Polar Bear, which may measure nine feet in length.

The opinion is prevalent that the movements of the Bear are awkward and slow and that they are neither fleet nor active in locomotion. This is true, to a certain extent, in the case of the larger species, though they are endowed with great endurance. On the other hand the smaller species are notably quick and active in their motions. In fact all species when excited will pass over the ground at a rapid rate, their strides resembling a sort of gallop. All climb, especially when young or until their great weight prevents them from doing so.

A few of the species are excellent swimmers and can remain under water for some time. The Polar Bear well illustrates this characteristic, for it has been seen many miles from the shore, swimming easily and showing a wonderful power of endurance.

We are told that “some species are sensible and sagacious and may be trained to a certain extent; but they exhibit no high mental development. Some individuals become very tame, though they display no particular affection for their master and keeper. They always revert to their grosser animal instincts in old age, for then they become wicked, intractable and violent. The Bears signify their various moods by modulations of their remarkable voices, finding utterance in dull growling, snorting and murmuring, or grunting, whistling and sometimes barking sounds.”

A family of young Bears consists of from one to six, which are fed and protected in the most tender manner by their watchful and careful mother. Born naked and blind, it is usually five or six weeks before they can see and have a seasonable coat of hair. After this, they are full of life and very playful, and their antics are very amusing.

Bears may be classed under three groups; the Sea Bears, the Land Bears and the Honey Bears.

The Polar or White Bear is the only representative of the first class. This species has been wonderfully provided for by Nature. Living as it does in the regions of perpetual ice and snow, the pure white color of its fur becomes a protection, as it is less easily observed. It also, unlike the other species, has the soles of its feet covered with hair which enables it to move more freely and safely on the ice. They have been noted at a distance of fully fifty miles from the nearest shore, swimming without effort and showing no fatigue.

One of the best known of the Land Bears is the Brown Bear of Northern Europe and Asia. It varies greatly and some authorities divide it into several distinct species. It is easily tamed and because of the ease with which it supports itself on its hind feet it is often taught to step to the sound of music. Here also is classed the Grizzly Bear, which is nearly as large as the Polar Bear and much more ferocious. It has been known to attack the bison and carry a body weighing one thousand pounds or more to its den some distance away.

The Black Bear of our illustration is also a member of this class. It is a native of the wooded parts of North America. This species is timid though agile, strong and is of great endurance. Its fur is soft and even and shining black in color. It can run more swiftly than can a man and will escape in this manner if possible.

Though it principally feeds on herbs, fruits and grains, it will also devour live stock of the smaller kinds and may even attack cattle. In captivity they are much better natured than the other species. “They never make hostile use of their strength in their relations with their keepers, but completely acknowledge human supremacy and present no difficulties in their training. At any rate, they fear their keeper more than he does them.”

The third class is illustrated by a single species, the Sloth, or Honey Bear, also called the Aswal. It is a native of India and frequents hilly localities. It feeds upon fruits, honey and the lower animals, such as ants and the grubs of various insects. It also enjoys the comb and honey of bees. With its large and scythe-shaped claws it will destroy the strongly built homes of the white ants. In its native country the Sloth is trained by jugglers to perform many tricks and in captivity it is docile and comparatively good-natured.

BIRD INCIDENTS

Wrens versus Sparrows: Some time since in the early spring, a pair of English Sparrows made up their minds to take possession of a bird house in our garden which a pair of Wrens had occupied for two previous years.

Mr. and Mrs. Wren had not yet arrived, so there was none to dispute the sparrows’ right or suspend operations. All went well and the nest was nearing completion, when one bright sunny morning, the former occupants arrived on the scene and trouble at once began. They evidently resented the action of the sparrows in taking the house which they anticipated using for a summer residence. An indictment of evacuation was at once served and being met by a show of sparrow impudence, forcible expulsion was next in order.

Mr. Wren took up his position on the front porch of the little house, and by a series of savage attacks and much loud scolding, succeeded in keeping the pair of sparrows off, while Mrs. Wren, working with desperate determination, proceeded to tear the nest apart and carrying the materials out the little back door, scattered them in all directions. My! what a shower of hay, straw, feathers, sticks, etc. This was continued until the house was entirely cleared. Then, without delay, began the process of reconstruction. During this time the sparrows did not sit idly by and see their work destroyed, but there was a continuous battle between them, and when the action became too pressing, both Wrens would make a grand charge which invariably resulted in driving the enemy back. By and by the new nest was finished, and although bad feeling existed for several days afterward, with frequent passages at arms, the sparrows finally gave up the fight as hopeless, and Mr. Wren mounted the chimney, standing guard, and at the same time giving vent to his feelings in loud and spirited song. Of course, our sympathies were with the victors.

Cat Bird and Cherry Stone: During one of my many rambles through the woods, I discovered the nest of a Cat Bird in a thick clump of briars and upon drawing near found it contained four little ones. Retreating for a short distance, I stopped and watched the mother bird who was greatly excited at first, but seeing that I meant no harm to her little family, she proceeded with household matters.