Birds and Nature Vol. 11 No. 3 [March 1902]

    Charles S. Raddin.

THE ROUND-LOBED LIVERWORT

(Hepatica hepatica.)

All the woodland path is broken
By warm tints along the way,
And the low and sunny slope
Is alive with sudden hope,
When there comes the silent token
Of an April day —
Blue hepatica.

    – Dora Read Goodale.
There are many plants that are closely related to the mythology and folklore of nations. This is even true of many that are native only in our own young country. The Liverwort, or Hepatica, as it is more often called, though it is not entirely free from mythical association among the Indian tribes, does not enter largely into their folklore.

This beautiful plant has, however, been the inspiration of many poets. Helen Chase calls the Hepaticas

“Hooded darlings of the spring,
Rarest tints of purple wearing.”

The delicate blue of the flowers is mentioned by William Cullen Bryant:

“The liverleaf put forth her sister blooms
Of faintest blue.”

The life of this plant is poetical. During the summer months a luxuriant growth of leaves is produced. As cold weather approaches these lie down upon the ground and are soon covered by the falling leaves, which have been nipped from the trees by bite of the frost king. Soon, too, they are covered with snow. In this warm cradle they sleep through the winter, yet, as it were, with open eyes for the dawn of spring. Had the Hepatica the power of reason we would say that it longed for spring, for after the first few warm days that herald the approach of that season there is activity in every part of the plant. It does not wait to produce new leaves, but in an incredibly short time sends up its flower stalk and spreads its blue, purple or white petals to the warm rays of the sun. The Hepatica is truly a harbinger of spring, and in Eastern North America, from Southern British America to the Gulf of Mexico, its appearance introduces the new season. In the northern portion of its habitat its flowers are among the first to grace the dreary, leafless forests. This Hepatica is also found in Europe and Asia. It is not only a flower of the forests of lower altitudes, but is also found in mountainous regions at an elevation of nearly three thousand feet.

This plant was first described by Linnæus in 1753, who gave it the name Hepatica, as he saw in the shape of the leaf a resemblance to the form of the liver.

Of the four known species of Hepaticas but one other is found in North America. This species has the lobes of the leaves pointed instead of round. In some localities it is quite as common as the plant of our illustration, and by many it is considered merely a variety of that form.

Bishop Coxe has said:

Flowers are words
Which even a babe may understand.

The word expressed by the beautiful and hardy Hepatica is confidence.

THE SPRING MIGRATION

I. THE WARBLERS

In two former papers I told you of some of the birds that spend their winters in the Gulf States. It is my purpose in the present article to tell some of the features of the great spring migration as viewed from a Mississippi standpoint; how myriads of the little fellows in yellow, black, white, and olive-green stop in these forests to rest and feed for a day or two, then under the impulse of a little-understood instinct continue their journey to the region of their birth. The migration takes place in successive waves, till the last one breaks upon us and spring is over.

In early March the first wave rolls in upon us; happy little creatures hop about and chatter among the opening buds and feast on the insect life awakened by the returning sun. On successive days or, perhaps, at intervals of a few days other waves roll in from the far lands of the Gulf and the Caribbean Sea, till the final one beats against these hills and we awake about the first of May to realize that summer, fervid, tropical, is here. For the months of March and April all is bustle among the feathered traveling public; after that the summer residents have things all their own way till the fall migration begins.

As the sun draws near the line you notice that up in the tops of the gum trees are little birds about the size of a savanna sparrow, and, viewed hastily, of much the same coloring. You know they are not savannas, because the savanna never frequents such places. Some of them have probably spent their winter in this latitude; but just now by their restless activity they tell us that the sap has begun to stir and that the great migration is about to begin. Closer inspection with a good glass will show four spots or patches of yellow, one on the crown, one under each wing, and another on the rump, hence the bird’s name, the yellow rumped warbler, sometimes known as the myrtle warbler. A month later you will scarcely recognize the males of this species, the dull brown of the winter coat being replaced by the shiny black of his bridegroom’s suit.

When the beech buds swell and the jessamine puts forth its little yellow trumpets to announce that spring has actually come, the first great wave comes flooding into the awakening woods. Here come the first arrivals, both sexes in coats of grayish blue, with shirtwaists of brilliant yellow, the male distinguished by a patch of rufous of an irregular crescent shape across the lower part of the throat and upper part of the breast. On fine sunshiny days the parula warbler, for that is his name, loves the topmost branches of the tallest trees; if the day is gloomy he comes down to the lower branches, affording a better opportunity to study him. His only note at these times is an insect-like buzz much in keeping with his diminutive size.

In the lowlands the Halesia or silver bell is putting out its graceful pendulous racemes of purest white, and it is time to look for the next migrant, the hooded warbler, one of the largest and finest of his race. A V of brilliant yellow coming down to the bill, covering the forehead and running backwards past the eye, bordered by a well defined band of intense black, and a back and tail of green slightly tinted with olive make him a marked bird. Unlike the parula, he cares nothing for treetops or sunshine; a perch on a swinging rattan vine or in a shrub in the dark woods hard by a canebrake is good enough for him.

As soon as the hooded warbler appears we will see the black and white creeping warbler, the connecting link (so to speak) between the creepers and warblers in both appearance and habits. Like our common brown creeper, he loves the dense woods, but unlike him seems to prefer the tops and higher branches. Alternate patches and streaks of white and black without a suggestion of the yellow or olive green so characteristic of his genus make his identification easy. His note is simple and short; in fact the sounds that he emits in his journeys are scarcely worth being called a song.

The flood tide comes about the first of April and lasts two weeks. Prominent among the multitude of visitors you may see a warbler slightly smaller than the hooded but of the same general coloring, yellow, black and green, only in this bird the black is in three patches, one on the top of the head, the others running from the bill back and down. This is the Kentucky warbler, a lover of the ground and of the low growths. There is another that the hasty observer might mistake for the hooded or the Kentucky, and that is the Maryland yellowthroat. The black on the latter is confined to broad bands of rich velvety black below the eyes; the yellow is more of a sulphur than a chrome shade, and the green is more nearly olive than in the two just mentioned. Many of this species make their summer home in this latitude, making their nests and rearing their broods in the mat of vines and weeds along the fence rows. The usual song is wichety, wichety, wichety, uttered with the cheerful vigor that makes the Carolina wren so attractive. During the months of April and May, 1900, I had frequent opportunities to observe two pairs of yellow throats that had built just inside the fence that parallels the railroad; the males, as they caught sight of me coming down the track, would mount the highest weed within reach and sing with all their might, but as I came opposite their perch would drop suddenly down into the weeds and remain there till I was well past, then resume their perch and song as long as I was in hearing.

Another of this family conspicuous for its brilliant coloring is the prothonotary warbler. Yellow breast, head, neck and shoulders, yellowish olive wings and back and darker olive tail render him conspicuous against any woodland background. If you want to see him during these busy April days we must go where he is, i. e., in the cypress or willow swamps. The dark gray festoons of Spanish moss (Tillandsia usneoides) and the tender young green of the cypress leaves afford both contrast for his bright colors and provisions for his larder. Some of this species also nest here, choosing for their homes oftentimes the holes made by some of our smaller woodpeckers in dead willow stubs. I remember one morning seeing a cheerful flock of prothonotary and parula warblers and noticing one of the former leave his companions and fly to a clump of willows where another less brilliantly colored, presumably the female, joined him. Together they inspected the willow stubs, running in and out and up and down the trunks, peering into every cavity. Finally they found one that met their requirements, then, after a short but earnest discussion, flew away through the swamp.

Inhabiting the marshes and swamps is the Louisiana water thrush, a slender brown bird shaped much like the brown thrasher, only much smaller, being about six inches in length as compared with the thrasher’s eleven or twelve. A gifted singer, he is very wild and shy, always resenting the intrusion of the lords of creation upon his quiet haunts, flitting quietly on before you in the shadows, evincing his distrust of your motives by an occasional angry “clink.” He well illustrates the principle of compensation: though denied the brilliant yellows and greens of his warbler brethren, he surpasses them all in the quality of his song, as free, as beautiful, as wild as the bird himself. All the individuals of this species that I saw in three years’ observation were either in the water beeches (Carpinus caroliniana) that grew so thickly along the creek or in the sweet gums and cypress along the borders of an immense swamp.

As the Louisiana water thrush is the star soloist of the warbler contingent, so the yellow breasted chat is the clown of our woodland troupe. His coloring is vivid but simple, being green with a wash of olive above, lores black, breast bright chrome yellow, other under parts white or whitish. Under most circumstances this bird is shy and difficult to approach, as I learned by personal experience; but when one of his strange moods comes upon him – perhaps it is the approach of the nuptial season that so affects him – he doffs much of his shyness and becomes a veritable clown, making such a profusion and variety of noises that one would fain believe that there is a whole score of birds in the bush or thicket from which the medley proceeds. He darts out of his retreat and flies away over the shrubbery, twisting and turning his body, raising and dropping his tail as if all his joints were of the ball and socket pattern, making as many ridiculous contortions and as many varieties of squeaks and squalls as an old-time elocutionist.

Besides numerous individuals of the species of warblers already named, in the two weeks between April 9 and 23 I saw one or more of each of the following: Yellow or summer, bluewinged, worm-eating, magnolia, golden winged, chestnut sided, prairie, and the redstart. As I write these names they call up mornings spent in the land of the ’possum and persimmon while yet the steamy breath of the dew was going up to meet the fervor of an April sun, and all the air was heavy with the perfume of the blooming holly, mornings of music from a thousand throats inspired by “the new wine of the year.” At such times one realizes the force of these two lines from Richard Hovey:

Make me over, Mother April,
When the sap begins to stir.

    James Stephen Compton.

A PET SQUIRREL

“Grandma, what made those little scars on this finger?” asked Nellie.

“Those,” said grandma, reflectively, “were made by a saucy little gray squirrel.”

“How?”

“When I was a little girlie, smaller than you, uncle gave me a gray squirrel in a cage for a pet. As we all fondled him he soon became very tame. We often opened his cage door and allowed him to run around the house at will. One day he ran upstairs and played havoc in a feather bed. After that when out of his cage we kept a close watch on him, never allowing him in a bedroom.

“But he had already learned a new trick which he seemed very loth to forget. Every time that he could sneak into a bedroom he would make a bee-line for the bed, tear a hole in the tick and be inside among the feathers in a flash.

“As I said before, everyone around the place petted and handled him and he had never bitten nor scratched anyone. But one day while playing with him he suddenly leaped from my arms and raced upstairs. Just as he jumped upon a bed I caught him. This angered his squirrel-ship. He turned and savagely ran his long, sharp teeth through my finger. The sores were slow about healing and left these little scars. After that mother would not allow me to let him out of his cage.”

    Loveday Almira Nelson.

THE ENGLISH WALNUT AND RELATED TREES

(Juglans regia L.)

Children fill the groves with the echoes of their glee,
Gathering tawny chestnuts, and shouting when beside them
Drops the heavy fruit of the tall black-walnut tree.

    – William Cullen Bryant: “The Third of November.”
The English walnut, butternut, black walnut, shagbark or shellbark hickory, mockernut or whiteheart hickory, bitternut hickory and pignut hickory are closely related, belonging to the butternut family, or technically the Juglandaceæ. They are large, handsome trees, with spreading branches and cleancut leaves. They are of comparative slow growth but hardy and enduring.

The English walnut is a tall, large, handsome tree which undoubtedly came from India. The name walnut is from Walish or Welsch nut; Juglans from Jovis glans, meaning the nut of Jove, and regia, meaning royal, hence the royal nut of Jove. The Greeks dedicated the tree to their chief deity Zeus, who corresponds to the chief deity of the Romans, namely, Jove or Jupiter. At a Greek wedding the nuts were scattered among the guests that Zeus might bless the marriage. The tree was described by numerous ancient writers, among others by Dioscorides, Plinius, Varro, Columella, and Palladius. Medicinal and other virtues were ascribed to the fruit and leaves and even to the shade of this remarkable tree. Arabian physicians used the hull of the unripe fruit and the leaves medicinally, Karl der Grosse (Charlemagne) recommended the cultivation of this plant in Germany about 812. It was introduced into the Mediterranean countries at an early period and extensively cultivated. From these countries it rapidly spread to northern Europe, and about 1562 it found its way into the British Isles, where it is extensively cultivated. It is cultivated somewhat in the United States.