FOR THE PEOPLE FOR EDVCATION FORSCIENCE LIBRARY or THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY /,i,m;i.1(,.i: V.v<"''' BIRDS AND NATURE IN r TURAL COLORS rjjj §'b.%%\0(^(^^) A NEW EDITION PAGE PLATES OF FORTY -EIGHT COMMON BIRDS BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY A GUIDE IN THE STUDY OF BIRDS AND THEIR HABITS VOLUME III COMPLETE IN FIVE VOLUMES WITH 240 PAGE PLATES IN COLORS. BEING A SCIENTIFIC AND POPULAR TREATISE ON FOUR HUNDRED BIRDS OF THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA. CHICAGO A. W. MUMFORD, Publisher 536 S. CLARK ST. COI'Y RIGHT, 191 -1. liV A. (C. MUM FORD. NONPAREIL. (Passerina ciris). Nearly Life size. BlGHT UOO, OV A. W. MOMFOBO. CHICAOO The Painted Bunting {Passenna ciHs) By Gerard Alan Abbott Length : 5^ inches. Range : South Atlantic and Gulf States to Western Texas, north to North Carolina and Illinois and south to Panama. This beautiful bird is often called by the appropriate peerless name Non- pareil. Without any exception, these are the most gaudily plumaged North Amer- ican birds, but their colors have a harshness of contrast that renders them far less pleasing to the eye than many others of our birds. They are often caged, but in confinement soon lose the natural brilliancy of their plumage. Like the Indigo Bunting, they are found in thickets and hedges : their habits seem to be precisely like those of the last species. Its song is similar to that of the Indigo, but lacking the brilliancy. The nest is made of grasses, leaves, strips of bark and rootlets, compactly compressed and woven together, situated at low elevations in thickets and low bushes. The eggs are whitish, specked and blotched with reddish brown. In the South they are favorite cage birds and readily become reconciled to small quarters. Like the Indigo Bunting the male is a strikingly colored bird, but the plumage of the female is plain olive green. One variety spends the winter in Florida but does not seek a more northerly climate until about May. In their winter haunts they are shy and retiring, remaining in dense shrub- bery where the country is not under cultivation. Often while singing the males remain concealed among the foliage and are as difficult to observe as is our yellow-breasted chat. Their song may be favorably compared with that of the Indigo Bunting. The birds live chiefly upon seeds and berries. Until the young leave the nest, they are fed upon insects and their larvse. The nests are rather loosely constructed of leaves and stems of grass and are lined with the same material. Low bushes and young trees are the favorite nesting sites, although the birds are sometimes found breeding in the high timber, several nesting at times in a single tree. Four eggs are laid in May and a second brood is frequently reared in July. Lazuli Bunting {Passerma amoena) Length, from 5^4 to 5j/2 inches. Male blue above, breast brownish ; wing bars white. Female brownish. Range: Breeds from southern British Columbia, southern Alberta, south- eastern Saskatchewan and western North Dakota to southern California and southwestern Texas ; winters in Mexico. The lazuli finch is a near relative of the indigo bunting and the nonpareil, 387 and its habits are in a general way very similar. There is the same disparity between the dress of the sexes, the color of the female being comparatively dull and lioniely. Tiic male, liowcver, is a gay [>hiniagcd dandy in his suit of turquoise blue, and is likely to surprise the stranger who meets him for the first time, since his colors suggest a tropical setting and are somewhat out of keeping with his surroundings. Notwithstanding his fine feathers, he is not so fond of dispUiying himself as is his cousin, the indigo bird, but seems to think that the cover of brush and chapparral is essential to his safety. The lazuli finch is a cheerful singer, and its song may be heard at frequent iiiter\als. This S'Ong is vivacious and pleasing and the Easterner who hear.-^ it for the first time will have no difficulty in guessing at the identity of the chorister, from the resemblance of his lay to the ditty of the indigo bird. The Chickadee By Sidney Dayre "Were it not fore mc. Said a chickadee. Not a single flower on earth would be : For under the ground they soundly sleep. And never venture an upward peep. Till they hear from me, Giickadee — dee — dee ! "I tell Jack Frost when 'tis time to go And carry away the ice and snow ; And then I iiint to the jolly old sun, '.\ little spring work, sir, should be done.' And he smiles around On the frozen ground. And I keep up my cheery, cheery sound. Till echo declares in glee, in glee : 'Tis he! 'tis he! The Ciiickadee — dee ! "And I awaken the birds of Spring — 'Ho, ho! 'Tis time to be on the wing.' They trill and twitter and soar aloft, .'Vnd I send the winds to whisper soft. Down by the little flower beds. Saying, 'Come show your pretty heads! The spring is coming, you see, you see !' For so sings he, The Chickadee — dee !" 388 RsldpStC {Mareca americana) Range : Breeds from northwestern Alaska, northern Mackenzie, and central Keewatin south to Oregon, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, southern Wisconsin, and northern Indiana; winters from southern British Columbia, Arizona, southern Illinois, Maryland, and Delaware south to southern Lower California, the West Indies, and Costa Rica. The beautiful baldpate is widespread over the fresh-water lakes and ponds of the United States from ocean to ocean. Formerly this bird nested in great numbers in the Western States, but of recent years its nesting grounds have been greatly restricted, and now most of the ducks that visit the United States come from farther north. The baldpate used to be one of the most abundant of ducks, and only recently was to be met with in large flocks, but it has been so greatly reduced in numbers by sportsmen and market gunners, that it can be said to be abundant in only a few localities. When disturbed in ponds near the coast, it has learned to find safety on the ocean, returning to its feeding grounds only when it thinks all danger has passed. It has become one of the wariest of ducks and, like the black duck, has reversed its natural habits in many localities and become a night feeder, devoting the hours of daylight to safeguarding its life by incessant watchfulness. Like most other ducks, the baldpate is fond of wild celery, but as its skill as a diver is small, it essays the role of highwayman, and when the canvas- back or redhead appears on the surface with a bill full of the coveted grass, the fruit of honest toil, it snatches the booty and makes ofi with it. My Valentine By Saidee Gerard RuthraufF A valentine was offered me on Valentine's fair morning. 'Twas silver broidered on with gold, and jewels its adorning. 'Twas silver, leaping to the sky, in golden showers returning With diamond flashings, sheen of pearls, and flame of ruby burning. 'Twas sweet as heart's first conscious love, 'twas glorious as knowing That after years, a heart true-tried, is still with true love glowing. It was a lark's love song to me, on Valentine's fair morning, 'Twas silver, broidered on with gold, and jewels its adorning. A sweeter token you'll not find in heart of loved or lover, Nay, though around the world you go and search it through and over! 389 The Northern Shrike (Lanius boreaiis) By l-Alward \i. Clark I .L-ngtli : Ten inches. Range: NortherTi Xorth Anicriia ; south in uinti r tn tniiidle of United States. I'ood ; liKsccls. {^ras.-iiioppers, lizard.s, mice, slircws, etc. One lias to have something of the savage in him to enjtiy tlioroughly the study of the shrike. As a matter of fact, the close daily obser\'ance of the bird involves some little sacrifice for the person whose nature is tempered with mercy. The shrike is essentially cruel. It is a butcher pure and simple, and a butcher that knows no merciful methods in plying its trade. More than this, the shrike is the most arrant hypocrite in the whole bird calendar. Its appearance as it sits ap- parently sunning itself, but in reality keeping a sharp lookout for prey, is the perfect counterfeit of iimoccnce. The northern shrike is no mean vocalist. Its notes are alluringly gentle, and to paraphrase, "It sings and sings and is a villain still." There is one compensation beyond the general interest of the thing for the student who has to endure the sight of the sufferings of the shrike's victims in order to get an adequate idea of its conduct of life. The redeeming thing is found in the fact that in the winter time the great majority of the shrike's victims are the pestilential English sparrows, whom every bird-lover would be willing to see sacrificed to make a shrike's supper, though he might regret the attending pain pangs. My own observations of the shrike have been limited to the city of Chicago and to the fields immediately beyond its walls. For those unfamiliar with the subject it may be best to say that in the winter season the shrike is abundant in the parks of the great smoky city by the lake, and that not infrequently it invades till' i)ulsing business heart of the town. No one ever saw the pkicidity of the shrike disturbed in the least. It will perch on the top of a small tree and never move so much as a feather, barring its tail, which is in well-nigh constant motion, when the clanging electric cars rush by or when the passing wagons shake its l)erch to the foundation. The northern shrike reaches the city from its habitat beyond the Canada line about the first of November. For four years in succession I saw my first northern shrike of the season on November 1st, a day set down in the church calendar for the commemoration of ".Ml Saints." It is eminently in keeping with the hypocritical character of Mr. Shrike, sinner that he is, to put in an appearance on so holy a day. From the time of his coming until late March, and sometimes well into .\pril, the shrike remains an urban resident and harries the sparrow tribe to his heart's content. .^s far as my own ol)servation goes, the northem shrike in winter does not 390 put very much food in cold storage. I have never seen many victims of the bird's rapacity impaled upon thorns. Perhaps I should qualify this statement a bit by saying that I have never seen many victims hanging up in one place. I have watched carefully something like a score of the birds, and while every one occa- sionally hung up one of its victims, there was nothing approaching the "general storehouse" of food, so often described. It is my belief that this habit of im- paling its prey upon thorns or of hanging it by the neck in a crotch is one that is confined largely to the summer season, and especially to the nesting period. The northern shrike has been said by some writers to be a bully as well as a butcher. I have never seen any evidence of this trait in its character. It does not seem to care for what some small human souls consider the delight of cowing weaker vessels. When the shrike gives chase to its feathered quarry it gives chase for the sole purpose of obtaining food. While the bird is not a bully in the sense in which I have written, it displays at times the cruelty of a fiend. It has apparently something of the cat in its nature. It delights to play with its prey after it has been seized, and by one swift stroke reduced to a state of help- lessness. Every morning during the month of February, 1898, a shrike came to a tree directly in front of my window on Pearson street. Chicago. The locality abounded in sparrows, and it was for that reason the shrike was such a constant visitor. The bird paid no attention to the faces at the window, and made its excursions for victims in plain view. The shrike is not the most skilled hunter in the world. About three out of four of his quests are bootless, but as it makes many of them it never lacks for a meal. The Pearson street shrike one day rounded the corner of the building on its way to its favorite perch, and encounter- ing a sparrow midway struck it down in full flight. The shrike carried its strug- gling victim to the usual tree. There it drilled a hole in the sparrow's skull and then allowed the suffering, quivering creature to fall toward the ground. The butcher followed with a swoop much like that of a hawk, and catching its prey once more, bore it aloft and then dropped it again as it seemed for the very en- joyment of witnessing suffering. Finally when the sparrow had fallen for the third time, it reached the ground before the shrike could reseize it. The victim bad strength enough to flutter into a small hole in a snow bank, where it was hid- den from sight. The shrike made no attempt to recapture the sparrow. It seemingly was a pure case of "out of sight, out of mind." In a few moments it flew away in search of another victim. The sparrow was picked up from the snow bank and put out if its misery, for it was still living. There was a hole in its skull as round as though it had been punched with a conductor's ticket clip. It has been my experience that the northern shrike hunts most successfully when it, so to speak, flies down its prey. If it gets a small bird well started out into the open, and with cover at a long distance ahead, the shrike generally man- ages to overtake and overpower its victim. If the quarry, however, is sought in the underbrush or in the close twined branches of the treetop, it generally suc- 391 ceeds in eluding tlie butcher. One of the most interesting incidents of all my bird observations was that of the attempted capture by a northern shrike of a small brown creeper. The scene of the action was near the south end of the Lincoln Park lagoon in Chicago. The crecjjcr was nimbly climbing a tree bole, industriously picking out insects, as is its custom, when a shrike dropped down after it from its high perch on a tree which stood close and overshadowed the one from whose bark the creejier was gleaning its breakfast. The shrike was seen coming. The creeper, for the fraction of a second, flattened itself and clung convulsively to the tree tnink. Then recovering, it darted to the other side of the bole, while tlie shrike brought up abruptly and clumsily just at the spot where the creeper had been. The discomfited bird went back to its perch. The creeper rounded the tree once more, and down went the shrike. The tactics of a moment before were re]xrated. the shrike going back to its perch chagrined and empty clawed. Five times it made the attempt to capture the creeper, and every time the little bird eluded its enemy by a quick retreat. It was a veritable game of hide and seek, amusing and interesting for the spectator, but to the birds a game of life and death. Life won. I ever have believed thoroughly that the creeper thought out the problem of escape for itself. The last time the shrike went back to its perch the creei)er did not show round the trunk again, but instead flew away, keeping the bole of the tree between itself and its foe. It reached a place of safety unseen. The shrike watched for the quarry to reappear. In a few moments it grew impatient and flew down and completely circled the tree. Then, seemingly knowing that it had been fooled, it left the place in disgust. Of the boldness of the northern shrike there can be no question. It allows man to approach within a few feet and looks him in the eye with a certain haughtv defiance, showing no trace of ncr\'0usness, save a flirting of the tail, which is a characteristic of the bird and in no way attributable to fear or uneasiness. One morning early in March, when the migration had just started, I saw two shrikes on the grass in the very center of the liall ground at the south end of Lincoln Park. They were engaged in a pitched battle, and went for each other much after the manner of game cocks. The feathers literally flew. T looked at them through a powerful field glass and saw a small dark object on the grass at the very point of their fighting. Then I knew that the battle was being waged for the possession of an unfortunate bird victim. The birds kept up the fight for fully two minutes. Then, being anxious to find out just what the dead bird was which had given rise to the row, I walked rapidly toward the combatants. They paid no heed to me until I w^as within twenty feet of the scene of their encounter. Then they flew away. I kept my eyes on the much-ruffled body of the little victim lying on the grass, and walking toward it I stooped over to pick it up. At that instant. as quick as the jiassing of light, one of the shrikes darted under my hand, seized the quarr)', and made ofl' with it. It was an exhibition of boldness that did not fail to win admiration. I did not have the chance to learn what bird it was that had fallen a victim to the shrike's rapacity and had been the cause of that battle royal. 392 The northern shrike, when it is attempting to capture a mouse, or a small bird that has taken refuge in a bush, hovers over the quarry almost precisely after the manner of the sparrow-hawk. There are few more fascinating sights in nature than that of the bird with its body absolutely motionless, but with its wings moving with the rapidity of the blades of an electric fan. Sharply out- lined against the sky, it fixes the attention and rouses an interest that leaves little room for sympathy with the intended victim that one knows is cowering below. A mouse in the open has little chance for escape from the clutches of the hovering shrike. Birds, however, which have wisdom enough to stay in the bush and trust to its shelter rather than to launch, out into open flight, are more than apt to escape with their lives. In February last I saw two shrike-pursued English sparrows take to the cover of a vine-covered lilac shrub. They sought a place well near the roots. While flying they had shown every symptom of fear and were making a better pace than I had ever seen one of their tribe make before. The shrike brought itself up sharply in midair directly over the lilac, and there it hovered on light wing and looked longingly downward through the interlacing stems at the sparrows. It paid no heed to its human observer who was standing within a few feet and who, to his amazement, saw an utter absence of any appearance of fear on the part of the sparrows. They apparently knew that the shrike could not strike them down because of the intervening branches. They must have known also that owing to the comparative clumsiness of their pursuer when making its way on foot through and along twigs and limbs, they could easily elude him if he made an attempt at capture after that manner. Finally the shrike forsook the tip of the lilac and began working its way down- ward along the outer edge of the shrub. When it had approached to a point as near as the sparrows thought was comfortable, they shifted their position in the bush. The shrike saw that the quest was useless unless he could start them to flight. He tried it. but they were too cunning for him, and he at last gave up the chase, the progress of which actually seemed to humiliate him. He flew afar off', where perhaps the prospects of dinner were better. I once saw a goldfinch in winter plumage escape a northern shrike by taking a flight directly at the zenith. The shrike followed the dainty little tidbit far up, until the larger bird was only a speck and the little one had disappeared entirely. The shrike apparently could neither stand the pace nor the altitude, and the watchers, with whom the goldfinch was the favorite in the race, rejoiced with the winner. Fine feathers do not always make fine birds. 393 Xhe Purple Finch (Carpodacus purpureus) By Mabel Osgood Wright Length: 6% inches. Range: Eastern North America, from Atlantic coast to the plains. These beautiful songsters are common in the northern tier of states and in Canada. Its song is a loud, long-continued and very sweet warble, which resembles that of the canary. The family of sparrows and finches, like that of the warblers, blackbirds and orioles, offers such an infinite variety of species and disports so many con- tradictory fashions in the cut of beaks and tinting of plumage that when we have even a bowing acquaintance with it we feel that we have really entered the realm of bird knowledge. In addition to its rarity the family of finches and sparrows is the largest of all bird families, numbering some five hundred and fifty species, that inhabit all parts of the world except .-\ustralia. The one point that binds them together wliich the untrained may discover is the stout bill, conical in shape, with great power for seed-crushing. For, first and last, all of the tribe are seed-eaters, and though in the nesting season much animal food is eaten by adults as well as fed to the young, and tree-buds and fruits are also relished, the tribe of finches and sparrows can live well upon seed.s — the seeds of weeds, the seeds concealed between the scales of pine-cones and the pulp-enveloped seeds of wild fruits that are called berries. This ability to pick a living at any season of the year that the seeded weeds of waste fields and roadsides are uncovered makes what are called "permanent residents" of many species of sparrows, and causes them, when they migrate, to still keep to a more restricted circle than their insect-eating brethren. Also, alas ! this seed-eating quality, cou]>lc(l with beauty of plumage and voice, has made them favorite cage-birds the world over. Happily, freedom has now come to them in this country, together with all our birds, and as far as the law may protect them thev are safe, though the latest reports say that small consignments of mockingbirds and cardinals are still smuggled over seas by way of Hamburg. Run over the list of prominent members of the family of finches and spar- rows. Call them by memon' if you can: if not, take a book and look them up. The sparrows are clad in shades of brown more or less streaked, and their dull colors protect them amid the grasses in which they feed and lodge. The birds of brighter plumage are obliged to look out for themselves, as it were, and keep nearer the sky, where their colors are lost in the blaze of light. First to be remembered are the birds that wear more or less red — the cardi- nal, the ro.se-breasted grosbeak, the redpolls, crossbills, the pine grosbeak and the purple finch (who is no more purple than he is blue or yellow). Then come three birds who would seem original and striking in any family 394 KI'LK MNc:n H Life-size, — the indigo bunting, the southern blue grosbeak and the beautiful painted bunt- ing or nonpareil, gay in blue, gold, red and green plumes. Red and blue — then yellow must follow as a natural sequence, to complete the primary colors. It is a fact, in the floral kingdom, that the three primary colors never exist naturally without artificial hybridization in one family ; thus there are red and yellow roses, but no blue ; red and blue verbenas, but no yellow, and so on. In the sparrow family, however, we have the three primary colors in all their purity, — the American goldfinch clad in pure gold and the dickcissel of the yellow breast, together with the yellow wing and tail marks of the pine siskin, supplying the third color. The towhee bunting stands alone, a blending of bril- liant black above, white below, with chestnut sides and red eyes. The chippy, song and field sparrows are typical of the color-protective family type. The white outer tail quills are an inde.x to the vesper sparrow ; the same white quills and a white vest name the slate-colored junco. The white-throated sparrow has his name plainly printed under his beak, and the white-crowned sparrow writes his in his white head-stripe, while the rusty brown fox sparrow is known both by size and color. The purple finch, which, as I have said, is not purple, but, when in full plumage, washed with a rich raspberry-red, deepest on breast, crown and rump, light breast, brownish back, wings and tail, is one of the notable members of the family. Its bill is heavy and round, approaching in size those of the grosbeaks, while in body it ranks with song and house sparrows. Besides having a heavy bill that suggests the grosbeak, it has a way of bristling the feathers of its crown that sometimes gives it the aggressive mien of the cardinal ; while its clinking callnote and way of flying in scattered flocks, and the fact that it is with us in winter, cause it to be some times mistaken in the distance for one of the cross- bills. One would think that, with its rich coloring and the fact that it is a winter resident in many parts of its range, this finch would be a well-known bird ; yet many people who have a fair knowledge of our common birds do not seem to know it. Perhaps this is because the females and immature birds, wearing gray and brown stripes, look so very much like their sparrow kin that the rosy-vested bird that sings in the trees, where his colors cannot be seen unless you are directly under him, escapes unnoticed. The change of the young male finch from his northern plain garb to the full crimson costume is interesting as it is deliberate, taking two seasons, the rosy flush not appearing until the end of the second year. The nesting season is spent from Minnesota and the Middle States north- ward, and the winter from the borders of the northern state southward to the Gulf. Its choice of a nesting location is very wide, for, like the catbird, it is equally at home in unfrequented and brushy woodlands, and on the borders of home gardens where people are constantly present. 395 In spite of hif; unique plumage, it is for his song that this bird has won renown, and it is by his song that he is most readily to be identified. To hear this in its perfection, one must listen for it in May and June; for this finch has not the enduring vocal qualities that endear his cousin, the song sparrow, and give us the perpetual hope that we may hear his voice in every montli of the year. — a hope that is usually fulfilled. The finches that have wintered with us begin to warble a little in late March, and the same partial song may be heard in October, after the molt: but the song that suddenly bursts into exuberance, ren- dering him one of our most conspicuous songsters and recalling many notes of the English chaflinch. belongs to the nesting season. It is almost impossible to render the song of a bird in syllables so that it appeals to any number of people ; for. as bird music is phrased, according to the natural, not the artificial, key that we associate with annotation, its trans- lation is a matter of mood, temperament and accord between imagination and ear. To me, when the voice of the crimson finch bursts forth in sudden joyous- ness, it cries, "List to me, list to me, hear me. and I'll tell you. — you. you!" There must be, however, some similarity between these syllables and the song, because more than once, on endeavoring to name a curiously described bird that I suspected might be this finch, the rapid wliisjiering of these words has com- pleted the clue, by the inquirers exclaiming — "Yes, that is the way the song went." Yet, do the best we can to suggest rhythm of the song, the music of it belongs to the woods and fields, the sky and sun, from which we may not sepa- rate it. Forbush says of it: "The song of the male is a sudden, joyous burst of melody, vigorous, but clear and pure, to which no mere word can do justice. When, filled with ecstasy, he mounts in air and hangs with fluttering wings above the tree where sits the one who holds his affection, his eflforts far tran- scend his ordinary tones, and a continuous melody flows forth, until exhausted with his vocal eflfort, he sinks to the level of his spouse in the tree-top." These finches travel at times in flocks and are at all times somewhat grega- rious, and this trait has made them an easy prey for bird-catchers, and Mr. For- bush tells us that. "If a bird of this species is confined in a trap-cage in spring and exposed in a conspicuous place, most of the purple finches in the neighbor- hood may be trapped. The greater part of the so-called 'linnets' in many locali- ties have been taken in this way, despite the law and its officers, who are on the lookout for the law-breakers. The birds have been sold in the bird stores or sent to Europe as red or gray linnets. This may account for a local scarcity of this finch in some places where it was formerly common." The purple finch, though like many others, it hunts for succulent food, apple and cherry blossoms in the spring, has a decided economic value ; for. the season through it feeds upon orchard and woodland caterpillars, lice, canker- worms, and when these are out of date it consumes quantities of the seeds of injurious plants, including the noxious ragweed. 396 Feeding Winter Birds By I. N. Mitchell After the long, leafless winter, the heart of man longs for the April rains to chase away the ice and snow. Those harbingers of spring, the robin, bluebird and meadow-lark are greeted with as genuine a welcome as meets the return of a long-gone friend. After them comes the procession of the birds, slow and straggling at first, then faster and denser as April gives way to May ; then a countless throng flitting, darting, flying, sweeping northward, rollicking, singing, visiting as they go. The dullest and busiest of people see robins then ! Soon the flood has swept by. The few scores of resident birds become commonplace and the southern migration, beginning in August, goes on so quietly and is so prolonged that it attracts comparatively little attention. Then comes the most nearly birdless season. A few hardy wayfarers, either winter residents or visitors from the f^r north, glean from berries, buds and seeds, from wintering insect eggs, and pupae not hidden by the great snow blanket, a more or less satisfactory living. The increased interest in all birds in recent years, has led, in many places, to a special interest in these winter birds, and efforts are made to attract them about the home not so much for the sake of the birds, for they seldom need human aid, as for the human beings caged in their homes by cold and storm. Then the visit of a chickadee to the window-sill is an event. It gladdens the heart, quickens the sympathies with the outside world and gives a new joy in living. It is coming to be a fairly frequent sight to see a bird table erected near the home and spread daily or at short intervals with some such materials as grain, cracked corn, cracked nuts, hay seed, crumbs and table scraps, bits of meat especially suet and a dish of water. The table should be fastened to a tree, on a high post out of the reach of cats, or against a convenient window sill. It will be difficult, if not impossible, to keep the English sparrow away except by means of poison or a gun. One would like to be merciful, and let the little beasts feed and welcome were it not for harboring tramps and increasing the troubles of the spring-time nesting. A suggestion that is worth trying is reported to have worked well in New Jersey and Illinois. A board six inches wide and two feet long is hinged at one end to the window sill in such a way as to allow the outer end of the board to drop. The board is held about level by a string fastened to its outer end and to the top of the window. In this string, i. e., forming a part of it, a thin or light spiral spring is fastened. The food and water dish are placed at the outer end of the board. When a bird alights the feeding board teeters up and down. The author of the scheme states that other birds will feed at the table, but that the English sparrow will not visit it a second time. 397 If the lunch counter proves attractive, as it doubtless will, many a liappy iiour is in store for the friends within while they study at close range, the manners of the chickadee, the red-breasted nuthatch, whitc-breaslcd nuthatch, downy and hairy woodpeckers, bluejay, junco, an occasional robin and, maybe, one or two other visitors. The juncos are not so likely to find the table as the others as they are accustomed to search for their food dose to the ground. For these birds, as for the white-throated sparrows, white-crowned and tree sparrows, the better way is to keep a bit of ground clear of snow and place the food upon it. Of the last birds mentioned, the junco is the only one that may be expected after severe weather arrives and even the junco will remain, if at all, in the very southernmost part of our slate. To those living in central and northern Wisconsin, may come the pleasure of watching the pine and evening grosbeaks, the red and the white winged crossbills, Rohemian wnxwing and snow bunting. All winter birds must have a good supply of heat-producing food. To most of them suet proves very acceptable. The best way to furnish it is to tie a piece about three inches long in a band of cloth about an inch wide and long enough to go around the limb or trunk of a tree and then fasten the band to a tree near the house. The Willow Ptarmigan (La^opus iagflf?us) By VV. L. McAtee Length : About 14 inches. Food : Seeds and wild fruits. Range: Breeds from northern .\laska. northern Ranks Land, and central Greenland south to eastern .Meutian Islands, central Mackenzie, central Keewatin, James Bay, and southern Ungava ; south in winter to northern British Columbia. Saskatchewan Valley, Minnesota. Ontario, and Quebec. To make the acquaintance of the willow ptarmigan in its chosen home one must visit the open tundras on the borders of Bering ."^ca and the .\rctic coast. Though not known to breed south of Labrador, the bird migrates in winter to the St. Lawrence, and occasionally a straggler crosses our own boundary. In Alaska in autumn willow ptarmigan unite in great flocks, numbering thnusaiuls, and migrate to the neighborhood of the ^'ukon and its tributaries, finding there both food and shelter. During the winter ptarmigan play an important role in the life of both the Eskimo and the Indian and are snared and shot in great numbers, often indeed forming the natives' only resource against the ever-recurring periods of want and even famine. On the Kaviak Peninsula the Eskimo have taken ad- vantage of the habitual low flight of the bird — only a few feet above the surface — to net them in a curious way. Nelson thus describes it : "Taking a long and medium fine-meshed fisliing net they spread it by fastening cross-pieces to it at 398 -?a. '^- oU tahsM ^ J^ Life-size. ■ W. MUMFOHD, CHICAGO certain distances; then taking their places just at sunset in early November or the last of October, on a low, open valley or 'swale,' extending north and south, they stretch the net across the middle of this highway, with a man and sometimes two at each cross-piece, while the women and children conceal themselves behind the neighboring clumps of bushes. As twilight advances the net is raised and held upright. Ere long the flocks of ptarmigan are seen approaching, skimming along close to the snow-covered earth in the dim twilight, and a moment later, as the first birds come in contact with the obstacle, the men press the net down upon the snow sometimes securing fifty to sixty birds." All are white as snow in winter. They are smaller than the prairie chicken and densely feathered to the end of their toes. The ptarmigan is an exceedingly hardy bird, taking refuge in an arctic snow drift as readily as a seal in water. They nest on the ground. House Finch ( Car podacus mexicanus frontalis) Length, about 6 inches. Grayish brown above, many feathers tinged with red. Below dull white, crown, rump and throat crimson. Range: Resident in Oregon, Idaho and southeastern Wyoming south to Lower California and Mexico. The pretty little house finch of the far west is among the most domestic of American birds, and exhibits a predilection for the neighborhood of houses almost as strong as that of the English sparrow. It carols its sprightly lay from the tops of buildings in villages and even cities, and from the shrubbery of lawn and park. So confiding has the bird become that it places its nest in any crack or cranny of house or outbuilding that is large enough for its housekeeping opera- tions. When such convenient and safe retreats are not to be had it builds a bulky nest in a tree or bush. It is fond of fruit, including pears, cherries, and small fruit, which its strong conical bill enables it to break open with ease. Locally, therefore, it is a good deal of a pest and does much damage to fruit crops, especially where it is numer- ous. Much, however, can be said in mitigation of its oflFenses. The seeds of plants, a large proportion of those of noxious weeds, constitute seven-eighths of its food for the year. Plant lice which are notoriously harmful to many trees and plants, also are a favorite diet. So, to, are caterpillars and beetles ; therefore, the balance is decidedly in the bird's favor. This attractive songster was carried to the Hawaiian Islands years ago and now is numerous in Honolulu and also in the forest on the island of Hawaii where amid brighter and more tropical neighbors it seems curiously out of place, though it sings as often and as joyously as it ever did in its old haunts across the Pacific. 399 The Purple Martin yPrugnesuHs) By W. Leon Dawson Length : Eight inches. Range: United States and southern Canada, south to central Mexico. Food: Mostly injurious insects. I'Vom time ininieniorial the garrulous Martin has enjoyed the hospitality of man. Before the advent of the Whites the Indian is said to have prepared for the yearly return of the Martin by trimming the houghs from some saplings hard by the wigwam, and "leaving the prongs a foot or two in length, on each of which he hung a gourd or calabash properly hollowed out" for the birds' accommoda- tion. The white men were quick to follow the example set. and for many years Martin houses, some of them quite ornate, have been a familiar feature of village and country places. These artificial quarters are exclusively used in the prairie states, but here, where timber has been so abundant, a considerable proportion have either never abandoned the ancestral fashion of nesting in hollow trees or old Woodpecker holes, or else have been driven back to it by the English Sparrows. The Martins have suffered much at the hands of these notorious pests, and their great reduction in numbers throughout the state is doubtless due largely to this cause. Arriving about the middle of March, in the southern part of the state, and from the first to the middle of April in the northern tier of counties, the Mar- tins are apt to wait quietly about their houses until the weather settles. Cold days are spent altogether within doors, and a cold snap at this season is sure to decimate the species, for the bird feeds exclusively upon insects. Their food is not confined to the smaller insects, as in the case of the other Swallows, but bees, wasps, dragon-flies, and some of the larger predatory beetles are consumed. The birds mate soon after arrival. Old nests are renovated and new mate- rials are brought in, — straw, string, and trash for the bulk of the nest, and abun- dant feathers for lining. They are very sociable birds, and a voluble flow of small talk is kept up by them during the nesting season. The .'^ong, if such it may be called, is a succession of pleasant warblings and gurglings, interspersed with harsh rubbing and creaking notes. A particularly mellow coo. coo, coo re- curs from time to time, and any of the notes seem to require considerable effort on the part of the performer. Purple Martins are not only brave in defense of their young, but often go a little out of the way to pick a quarrel with strangers. Hawks are set upon fearlessly and driven out of bounds, and the birds' presence in the barnyard is appreciated on this account. There is besides a running fight to be kept up with Wrens, Bluebirds, and English Sparrows, for possession of the home box. So far as I have been able to observe, however, the birds are not molested by the sturdier Tree Swallows, as is said to be the case in New England. In North- 400 a em Illinois the nesting houses are habitually shared with the last named species, and the birds seem to have reached a modus vivendi on peaceable grounds. At the end of the breeding season the Martins are no longer confined to the nesting site, but range freely by day, and gather in large companies to roost at night. Sometimes the ridge or cornice of a building is used for this purpose, but oftener the birds resort to some unfrequented woodland or out-of-the-way place. In the summer of 1901 we saw upwards of a thousand of them roosting in the hackberry trees of North Harbor Island, and had reason to believe that the company represented not only the entire population of the Lake Erie Islands, but a considerable number from the Canadian and Ohio mainland as well. 1. Martins prefer a house in the open where the flight is not obstructed. 2. The house should be about fifteen feet high. 3. Rooms should be not less than 5x5 and 6 inches high nor more than 6x6 and 7 inches high. This latter is the Jacobs standard. 4. Rooms should have tight joints. No cracks. 5. Doors should be 2^ inches square or 2^4 inches in diameter if round. 6. Doors should be one inch above the floor and as far apart as possible. 7. The house should be taken down or closed when the Martins leave it. 8. The house should be put up or opened the last week in March. 9. The house should be get-at-able, either by ladder or by making the pole so as to lower easily. 10. Perches or porches are desirable, the Martins like to sit about the door- ways. 11. As all swallows hunt over water, the vicinity of water is the best place for a box. Some Beneficial Birds and Their Protection By J. P. Gilbert The most important enemies to crops are undoubtedly the insect and rodent pests. Insects with their poorly constructed digestive organs eat enormous quan- tities of food but really digest only a small part of what they eat. It is said to cost the farmer twice as much to feed our insect foes as it does to run our public schools. Mice, rats and other rodents gorge themselves upon grasses and grains, and often cut to pieces and waste far more than they eat. Rats alone are said to destroy one hundred million dollars' worth of property in the United States each year, and mice of all kinds, perhaps, do even more damage than do the rats. These rodents all multiply with alarming rapidity and if not held in check might almost bring on a national calamity. It is doubtful if anything else is so important as hawks and owls in checking outbreaks of destructive rodents. To keep up their high body temperature and to produce the immense amount of energy needed on their hunting expeditions, birds of prey must devour surprisingly large quantities of food. With but very 401 few exceptions, this food is made up of mice, rats, gophers, shrews and other rodents. If this food runs out, an occasional hawk learns to eat poultry or birds. This, however, is the exception rather than the rule. .Ml the common land hawks in Illinois except two species, and all the owls seem to prefer these rodents for food. This very necessary work can not be done by cats, as some people believe. If the cat is a mouser at all, she must sit down where mice and rats congregate about the house or barn and there sit down, "like Micawber." and wait for "something to turn up." When rodents come within reach she springs upon them. But this same cat would be useless in a broad field where roflcnts are scattered. To successfully rid a field of meadow mice and other rodents, etc., requires the services of birds of prey which can quickly fly over the broad fields and on noiseless wing steal upon the pests while they are out of their hiding places. This very necessary service is performed by hawks during the day and by owls in the twilight and by night. Only two common land-hawks in Illinois do notable injury, as a rule. Two slaty grav hawks with black bars on tail and wing are noted poultr>' and bird thieves. They are the little sharp-shinned hawk and his "big brother." the Cooper's hawk. The latter bird is almost twice as large as the former. All other hawks of importance are decidedly beneficial. The sparrow hawk eats large numbers of grasshoppers, beetles, caterpillars, and mice. He is known everywhere by his quick ringing "Killy ! Killy Killy!" as he wheels about buildings and parks or hovers upon beating wings above some spot in the field or meadow until he locates the coveted insect or rodent upon which he so speedily descends at the first opportunity. Because of his boldness, this beautiful little hawk is frequently shot by those who do not understand his real value. The large marsh hawk flies low over fields, meadows and lowlands, preferably near woodlands or streams. When his sharp eyes detect some destructive rodent beneath him. he raises his long wings vertically over his back, quickly descends and with out- stretched talons seizes the coveted prize. He may also be known by the large white area above the base of the tail. The red-tailed hawk and the red-shouldered hawk are both large and are both unfortunately known as "hen hawks" or "chicken haw-ks." Only an occasional specimen is known to destroy poultry, and perhaps none of either species would do so if the poultry were kept properly housed or penned up. Owls even have a better record than hawks. As soon as hawks are driven to roost by the darkness, owls begin their nightly search for nocturnal rodents and insects. These large bright-eyed birds are so quiet and so "mysterious" in their habits that their wild cries or "cold hooting calls" make superstitious people shudder. Unlike other birds, owls see us with both eyes at once. This gives them something of a "human expression" and makes them look wise. But their large eyes serve the owl most eflfectively in the darkness. By means of them he locates and captures almost fabulous numbers of mice. rats, shrews, meadow mice, insects, etc. 402 The screech owl is especially fond of insects and mice. When his tremulous cry is heard at night, it is "high time" for mice and rats to hunt their holes, for owls will get them "if they don't watch out." The long-eared owls are also famous mousers. More than a hundred pellets thrown out of the mouth (regurgi- tated) by a pair of these owls, contained fur in every instance while not one pellet contained feathers. This pair certainly preferred rodents to birds or poultry. The short-eared owls have much the same record as the marsh hawk and may be found in similar situations, hunting much in the same way as the marsh hawk, particularly on dark cloudy days. Barred owls are said to do more good than harm, while the curious looking "monkey faced" or bam owl is the best one of all. A. K. Fisher gathered up the pellets dropped near the nest of a pair of barn owls in the tower of the Smithsonian Institution and found in them 454 skulls of small animals. These skulls represented 225 destructive meadow mice, 179 house mice, twenty rats, twenty shrews, six jumping mice, two pine mice, one star-nosed mole, and one vesper sparrow. Certainly such a record gives the barn owl a right to live. Only the very large "great horned owl" is ever charged with any notable injury, and such charges are very rare. Most people woud place him in the class which are neither decidedly beneficial nor harmful. Under the beneficial class, Fisher groups the marsh hawk, red-tailed hawk, red- shouldered hawk, sparrow hawk, barn owl, long-eared owl, short-eared owl, barred owl, screech owl, snowy owl, and several others of less importance. Under the heading "Harmful Hawks and Owls," Fisher places the sharp- shinned hawk, Cooper's hawk and three others of less consequence in Illinois. But he does not name a single owl as belonging here. He should have left the word "Owls" out of this heading, I believe, since none are really "harmful." Dr. C. Hart Merriam estimated that each hawk and owl in Pennsylvania is worth at least twenty dollars to the farmer. Certainly, if these birds are so valuable in Pennsylvania, they are much more valuable in a great agricultural State like Illinois where rodents and insects are so very destructive. It seems unreasonable, as Fisher and others have pointed out, that many people will fondle and protect a disease-spreading, bird-eating, poultry-stealing cat, and make war upon our beneficial birds of prey which so eiTectively do the work for which some people pretend to keep cats. Again, it seems inconceivable that so many people, who get more of the rapid-breeding cats than they want, will haul them out and drop them along the road-side, there almost invariably to go hungry and cold until they learn to catch the beautiful and valuable birds. It is cruel to treat cats thus, while it would be humane to chloroform the surplus stock. This latter procedure applied to the surplus stock and to any cats found eating poultry or birds would very greatly lessen the enormous destruction of valuable birds. School teachers and their pupils can slowly but surely and permanently put an end to the destruction of valuable birds by teaching in every community the real benefits we derive from them. Many people believe that all birds of prey ■ are bad, just because an occasional individual acquires a perverted appetite. No 403 one would punish all boys in school because one bad boy did wrong. No one would shoot all dogs, because one dog in the neighborhood killed sheep. But to punish good and bad boys alike, or to kill good and bad dogs alike, is no more foolish or wrong than to shoot good and bad hawks and owls indiscriminately. The rare offender should be destroyed but the great majority of beneficial birds of prey should be protected lest we bring on a scourge of destructive rodents. If space permitted, I might show how woodpeckers are also too generally misunderstood. With their chisel-like beaks and their extensible, barbed, homy tipped tongues, they expose, spear and extract numberless destructive grubs and borers in forest and fruit trees. Only the saj) siii-kcr does notable injury and that very rarely in Illinois. Woodpeckers, robins and many other valuable birds are frequently charged with serious destruction to cherries and other small fruits. I am convinced that where such occasionally occurs, it is pretty largely our own fault. I have a tree of black mulberries in my yard ripening when my cherries are mature. Birds are numerous about the place, and while on this town lot we usually pick from 100 to 200 gallons of early Richmond cherries, we do not lose one per cent of the crop to the birds. But while the ripening cherries are hanging near by and scarcely a bird may be seen in the cherry trees, the mulberry tree is swarming with many species of birds and a few squirrels literally fiilling themselves upon the more desirable mulberries. The planting of a few mulberries or wild fruits for the birds to feast upon will usually save the cultivated fruits from injury by birds. All the birds in Illinois are protected by law with the exception of the English sparrow, sharp-shinned hawk. Cooper's hawk, great horned owl. crow blackbird, crow, bluejay and sap sucker. Boys and girls especially should see to it that the others are protected and encouraged. Bird nests, especially, should not be molested, and everybody should make nesting places for the wrens at least. Bad English sparrows get into "Jenny Wren's" nest while she is out eating insects, and when she returns she does not have a fair show to fight the intruder and run him out. You can make a nest which "Jenny Wren" will like very much and into which the sparrow cannot go. This may be done as follows : Take an old tomato can or corn can and lay a quarter of a dollar down on the end which was not cut open. With pencil, mark around close to the quarter. Now with a pocket knife, cut on this mark until the piece the size of a quarter is almost cut out. Bend this piece down for a lighting board. Now nail the opposite end of this can firmly under the eaves of a house, barn, or outbuilding, or on a tree or post high enough that robber cats cannot disturb and you have a most excellent wren house. Nail up a half dozen such cans, some in the shade and some in the sun, for "Jenny Wren" seems "fickle" in her choice of a nest. Once having obtained a pair of these fine little birds, they will return to you year after year. It will give you a great deal of pleasure to observe the interesting habits of wrens, and to hear their sweet songs, particularly when you think that these songs are made out of the destructive caterpillars which "Jenny Wren" obtains from the gardens, orchards and fields. 404 9. -a . a -< The Black-Poll Warbler {Dendrolca striata) By F. E. L. Beal Length : About Sj4 inches. Range : Eastern North America, west to the Rocky Mountains, north to Greenland, the Barren Grounds, and Alaska, breeding from northern New Eng- land and the Catskills northward. Black-polls bring up the rear of the warbler host. And when one has seen them the reason of their tardiness becomes apparent. Whereas most warblers are restless, impatient, fussy, black-polls are delib- erate, decorous, self-contained. They are in no hurry ; they have no trains to catch or previously appointed trysts to keep. There is added reason, too, for their leisurely passage, in that their summer camps are pitched far north where spring is tardy also. In spring the birds seldom arrive before the 15th of May and oftener it is nearer the 20th. The males greatly exceed the females in number, so that one really wonders when the females pass. It is possible that they do not light largely until Lake Erie is traversed, since the species is reckoned rare in the southern part of the state, and only tolerably common in the vicinity of Columbus. For all the birds appear so slow the northern movement is rather rapid, and only an occasional straggler is found after the 25th of May. It is always with a feeling of sadness that the bird-man views the arrival of these birds which mark practically the close of the warbler season. It has been too short, that period of bursting buds and twinkling wings ; but now the leaves are all unfolded, the fairy visitants have stolen away one by one — and here comes black-poll. To be sure his presence befits the season; the bustle of awakening life over, his monotonous droning chimes in accurately with the murmur of bees' wings, and lies softly upon the pulsing tribute of heated air by which the sounds are alike borne heavenward ; but somehow we still rebels youth was all too short ! The warblers are lost to view now if they remain in the tree-tops, but a foggy morning, or some reason less apparent, will sometimes bring them down to feed in the shrubbery. At such times they are quite approachable and one may see how — or at least ivhen — they produce that fairy creaking which they call a song. This consists of a series of exactly similar notes uttered rapidly, but in a beautiful musical swell. Many syllables will satisfy the ear, but Mr. Langille has perhaps hit it off the best when he says, "tree, tree, tree, tree, tree, tree, tree, tree." The black-polls swarm through our state during the fall migrations when they may be observed from the last week in August well into October. It is not prob- able, however, that any given individual passes so long a time with us, but only that the species occupies such a diverse breeding range that the impelling causes of evacuation are correspondingly diverse in form, and asynchronous in action. 405 John James Audubon By Edward Clark The simple truth is spoken wlicn it is said that the Audubon societies, formed for the protection of wilfl bird life in America, are carryin^^ forward their work not only in the name of Audubon but in the spirit which was the great naturalist's guide. John James Audubon was a lover of nature. He made his way deep into Mother Nature's heart and there held his place throuRh the long years of his life. Too little is known to most peo[)le of this man, who, Frenchman by extraction, was wholly .\merican in love and loyalty. Some men have said that .'Xudubon was an impractical man, a dreamer. Impractical he was and a dreamer, too, but the world is better for its dreamer>. The business man of large affairs looks with a sort of pitying arrogance upon the man who loves the woods rather than the counting house. The man who goe« to the woods with a purpose in his heart has chosen the better i)art. The impractical Audubon will live when those who called him dreamer have been for centuries forgotten. John James .\udubon was born in St. Tammany Parish, Louisiana, about twenty miles from New Orleans, some time between the years 1772 and 1783, the exact date being unknown. He was the son of .Admiral Jean .Audubon, an officer of the French navy, who served under Rochambeau in the fleet which aided America in establishing her independence. .Admiral Audubon, with his wife, were visiting in Louisiana at the time of the birth of the boy who was destined to become the best-known of all American naturalists. The boy Audubon's mother was killed in 1793 in Santo Domingo, where her husband held a large landed property. Madam .Audubon lost her life during one of the negro insurrections in that island. Admiral .Audubon took his children to France, where he remarried and gave to his youngest son, John James, the only mother he ever knew. It is impossible in a brief sketch to tell the hundredth part of what there is to be told of .\udul)on's life. It was filled with interest from the hour of his birth on the shore of Lake Pontchartrain to the hour of his death in jAudubon Park on Manhattan Island. From his earliest years Audubon showed a love for nature. His interest and his affection, for both were involved, turned particularly to birds. During his boyhood days in France, as he has said himself, "instead of going to school when I ought to have gone, I usually made for the fields." On these truant excursions he studied such birds, flowers, trees, pebbles and shells as a somewliat limited field of observation gave him opportunity. Audubon's stepmother loved him devotedly, and she did her best in a kindly, mistaken way to spoil him. but he was of too fine a fiber to. be spoiled by step- mother indulgence. His father knew the value of learning, and while he had sense enough to be pleased with all that his boy had accomplished in the way of laying up a store of knowledge of the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air. he knew that in order to make these things tell in the world that other knowl- 406 edge must bear them company. Audubon in later years was given an occasion to belittle his own education, but he had a greater store of learning than he was given to putting down to his credit. It is perhaps a clue to the nature of the man to say that as a pupil at school he loved geography and loathed mathematics. Audubon lived in France until he was approaching manhood. Then his father found it necessary to send him back to the United States of America, which Audubon calls "my own beloved country." And he adds, "I came with intense and indescribable pleasure." It is necessary to pass over some of the experiences of the first few months in America. Years before Admiral Audubon, during a visit he had paid to Pennsylvania, had purchased the farm of Mill Grove, where the Perkiomen Creek empties into the Schuylkill River. In one of Audubon's manuscripts, preserved in printed form in the fine life of the naturalist, "Audubon and His Journals," by Maria R. Audubon, his grand- daughter, we read: "At this place (Mill Grove), and a few days only before the memorable battle of Valley Forge, General Washington presented him (Audu- bon's father) with his portrait, now in my possession; and highly do I value it as a momento of that noble man and the glories of those days." Miss Audubon, who edited the Journals of her grandfather, puts the Latin word "sic" in parentheses after the naturalist's allusion to the "memorable battle" of Valley Forge. Audubon was a little confused, apparently, as to that for which Valley Forge is noted in American history. Audubon lived for a long time at the Mill Grove farm, and there he followed almost unremittingly his bird studies. He writes of this time : "The mill was also a source of joy to me, and in the cave, which you, too, remember, where the pewees were wont to build, I never failed to find quietude and delight." One day, while Audubon was rambling the woods in search of birds, William Blakewell, the owner of an estate adjoining the Mill Grove farm, called at the Audubon house and left an invitation for the young naturalist to come over to see him. Audubon at this time had the prejudices of the Frenchman and also of most of the Americans of that period. Blakewell was an Englishman and Audubon, foolish boy that he calls himself, because of his prejudice against any native of the "tight little isle," did not accept Mr. Blakewell's invitation until he was driven to do it. He called finally, and the first person to greet him was the despised Englishman's daughter, a beautiful young woman who later became Audubon's wife, a devoted, self-sacrificing wife. The naturalist speaks of her as he first saw her in one of his letters to his sons: "Oh! May God bless her! It was she, my dear sons, who afterward became my beloved wife and your mother." After living for some time at Mill Grove, he returned to France, where he stayed for two years. One of his first duties there was to gain his father's consent to his marriage. During this time in France he says: "In the very lap of com- fort, my time was happily spent. I went out shooting and hunting, drew every bird I procured, as well as many other objects of natural history and zoology." 407 Mucli may be passed. Audubon returned to America, and as a preliminary to marriage and acting under the advice of the father of his affianced, he tried to tit himself for a mercantile business, but it did not suit him. Birds, not business, were in his head. Before he had sailed for France he had begun a series of drawings of the birds of .America and had begim a study of their habits. He was mapried in the year of 1808 in Philadelphia, and the next morning, with his bride, left for Louisville, Kentucky. He still intended to follow a business career, and with Ferdinand Rf)zier he ojKMied a store in the Kentucky metropolis, which, as .'\udubon writes, "went on prosperously when I attended to it, but birds were birds then as now. and my thoughts were ever and anon turning towards them as objects of my greatest delight." During the time that .\udubon passed in Louisville he made constant excur- sions into the woods and fields. He was drawing birds and studying their habits in life constantly. His heart was with nature and the store was a burden. When he was forced to go to Philadelphia or New York In purchase goods he enjoyed the journeys only, as he confessed, as they afforded liim the means "to study birds and their habits as I traveled through the beautiful, the darling forests of Ohio, Kentucky and Pennsylvania." More than once Audubon allowed iiis pack horses, "laden with goods and dollars," to become lost to sight and in danger of being lost beyond recovery, while he stopped to watch the activities and to admire the colorings of some woodland warbler. Pecuniary difficulties overtook the naturalist. He did not attempt, as a man of steadier business method might have attempted, to find a really serious means of recouping his losses. In a letter he says: "Your mother was well, both of you were lovely darlings of our hearts, and the effects of poverty troubled us not." The naturalist continued to make his pictures of birds and quadrupeds, and while his friends and relatives doubtless thought that his drawings and his forest excursions were a waste, possibly a willful waste, of time, they proved to be the basis of his future fame. The Audubons went to Henderson, Kentucky, and then there was a new business venture, a steam mill, which he declares to his sons in a letter was "of all the follies of a man one of the greatest, and to your uncle and to me the worst of all our pecuniary misfortunes." Audubon worked hard at his mill, but he called it afterward the "bad establishment." He parted finally with every particle of property to his creditors, paying the last dollar that he owed and leaving Henderson with only his clothes and his original drawings. Of his wife, he says she felt the pangs "of our misfortune, but never for an hour lost her courage: her brave and cheerful spirit accepted all, and no reproaches from her beloved lips ever wounded my heart. With her was I not always rich?" .\udubon, as he expressed himself, was not inclined to foolish despair. He resorted to his talents, and for some time he drew portraits, managing thus to eke out a living, and still giving over as much time as he could to the drawing of 408 birds. He obtained a position in a Cincinnati museum, and he established a draw- ing school. The museum authorities promised to pay him well but did not keep their promise. Finally the naturalist went to New Orleans. As Maria R. Audubon tells us, "he had now a great number of drawings, and the idea of publishing these had suggested itself to both him and his wife." Audubon was separated from his family for nearly a year, being kept from sending for his wife and children because of the fear of yellow fever. He took a position as tutor in the family of Mrs. Chas. Percy of Bayou Sara. "Here the beloved Louisiana, whose praises he never wearied of singing, whose magnolia words were more to him than palaces, whose swamps were storehouses of treas- ure, he stayed till autumn, when, all fear of yellow fever being over, he sent for his wife and son." Poverty was the part of the Audubons while in the far South, but the natural- ist kept up his hope and his cheer. March, 1824, found Audubon in Philadelphia, where his drawings for the first time drew an attention which afterwards broad- ened and which finally led to the recognition which has lasted through the years. For a year he traveled through the woods and fields of New York and the country farther west about the Great Lakes. Thence again he went to New Orleans, intending from there to go to England. He had made in various ways, one of which was the teaching of dancing, about two thousand dollars, and with this and with some of the savings of his wife, money which she had put aside to forward the journey to England, from which much was expected, he started for the other side of the water. It is impossible to give in detail the story of Audubon's visit to England. There he received encouragement for his work and recognition of his scientific, researches. He went abroad again some time afterward and become associated with Mr. William MacGillivray, and the result was the "Ornithological Biogra- phy." Mrs. Audubon, who was with her husband, rewrote the entire manuscript that it might be sent to America. In speaking of the association of Audubon with MacGillivray, Dr. Coues says : "The brilliant French-American naturalist was little of a 'scientist.' Of his work, the magical beauties of form and color and movement are all his ; his page is redolent of nature's fragrance, but MacGillivray's are the bone and sinew, the hidden anatomical parts beneath the lovely face, the nomenclature, the classification — in a word the technicalities of the science." Mr. and Mrs. Audubon spent some time in England and in Scotland, and later went to the Continent. The naturalist secured subscribers for his great work on the birds, and this to him was a breath of life, for it gave him the assurance of the means to continue in his chosen way. There is a sharp realization on the part of the writer of this that in the brief- ness of the sketch nothing at all adequate can be given touching the experiences of Audubon at this time. He came back to America and went on with his work 409 He made journeys into all parts of the American wilderness, pursuing; the work which he loved and which today the world loves him for. He explored Labrador and the prairies of the West. He knew the everglades of Florida and the forests of the North. The breath of the forests was his breath and the birds were his children. John James Audubon was the greatest of our American omithologists, for he was the one who gave inspiration to the study of the birds, and through all kinds of provocations and difficulties carried his study forward to success. "Just as sunset was flooding the pure, snowcovered landscape with golden light, at five o'clock on Monday, January 27, 1851, the 'godlike spirit, beautiful and swift, out- soared the shadow of our night.' " The writings and drawings of John James Audubon are a fitting monument to his memory, but his noblest memorial is to be found in the work of the societies formed for the protection of the wild bird life and which bear his name. The Great Gray Owl ^ScoUaptcx nebuiosa) By I. N. Mitchell Length: 25 to 30 inches — the largest of all owls. Range: Arctic America, straggling southward in winter to southern New England, New York, New Jer.sey, Ohio, Illinois. Idaho and northern Montana. Owl, a family of birds of prey. The owl is known at once by its large feather}' face and great wise eyes immersed in depressed circles of plumage. The owl is unable to roll its eyes or to look sidewise without throwing its head around. The bill is half hid in feathers. It is curved from the base like that of a hawk, and is well adapted to rend prey. The claws arc .sharp and curved for seizing, but arc less powerful tlum those of a hawk. In order to surprise its prey, the flight of an owl is swift and noiseless. Most owls see better at dusk than in the daytime. For that reason they feed at night and seldom molest ]ioultry. but live chiefly on rabbits, mice, insects, and other animals that move in the night time. A study of the stomachs of many Iniiidred owls has demonstrated that, by the destruction of mice, they are to be regarded as more useful than other- wise. The owl eats its food, hair, feathers, and all. It is said that its health actually fails if fed on pure beefsteak. Hair, bones and feathers are formed into pellets and cast up through the mouth. A study of these pellets gives a clue to the diet of the owl. In the northern states owls nest in February. The eggs of an owl, usually two to four in number, are unifonnly white and are almost hemi- spherical. In perching, the owl has the power to reflex the outer toe at will, thus grasping the perch with three toes forward and one backward, or two forward and two backward, thus giving it a firmer hold. No ear-tufts; general plumage mottled, dusky, grayish-brown, and dull whit- 410 514 GREAT GRAY OWL. (Scotiaptex ctnerea). 14 Life-size. COPiTRIGHT 10O2, By MFCHO, CHICAGO ish, darker above, lighter below, where the dusky markings are indistinctly longi- tudinal on breast and belly, and transverse on flanks, the whitish impure and with a fulvous element on the margin of the facial disk, hind neck, wings, tail, etc. ; wing-quills and tail indistinctly barred ; facial disk about six inches across, dusky gray, with numerous dusky lines imperfectly concentric about each eye ; the edge of the disk dark brown and fulvous, and with more white below ; the eyes bordered by black on the inner margin ; iris yellow ; bill pale yellow ; feet and toes heavily feathered. One autumn day some thirty years ago Charles Dury, of Cincinnati, was out quail hunting with some farmers' boys in Clark County, near South Charleston. While in pursuit of a scattered covey in a dense thicket, he came suddenly upon a monster owl, the like of which he had never seen alive. A quick shot fired full in the bird's face, blinded it, but did not inflict a mortal wound. Spreading its ample wings it fluttered away, regardless of a second shot fired after it, the gun being only a light muzzle loader charged with fine shot. Realizing that he had lost a prize, the young collector scoured the neighboring woods in search of it, but without avail. This very rare northern visitor has not since been seen within the state, and it will hardly pass again the broadening belt of civilization which separates us from the Laurentian wilds, in which it makes its home. The bird is not really so large as it appears, but has long fluffy feathers within which the "meat" bird is almost lost. Its eggs are not larger than some laid by the barred owl. Birds and Seasons in My Garden I. February and March By Mabel Osgood Wright In the dark silence of her chambers low, March works out sweeter things than mortals know. For all the sweet beginnings of the spring. Beneath her cold brown breast lies fluttering. — May Riley Smith. There is nothing more interesting, and I may even say curious, than, when looking back over a period of thirty years spent more or less under out-of-door influences, to realize the very different emotions called forth by the same hap- penings in very much the same surroundings. In my garden plot covering, in cultivated, open field and wild, not quite ten acres, it would seem that the coming and going of the seasons in flower and bird-life would bear a certain defined stamp not untinged by monotony, yet it is 411 (juiti oiiiii wise. In New England ;it least, there always chances the clement of tantalizing uncertainty that is the salt and spice of pursuit. Then, too, there are added the different phases born of the seven ages of man. and the seventy times seven changes of mood and temperament. At first, birds were simply two-legged, feathered things, that sang more or less well, and would usually discover the ripe side of every strawberry and cherry at least half an hour before the human picker appeared on the scene. .Spring and summer brought birds, how they lived in the absent interval one didn't know, and any sort of systematic aid in solving the feeding problem, other than shaking the table-cloth out of the window, did not trouble one. Neither did the matter of housing, to any practical extent. Bird houses were mostly impossible vaudeville constructions, with many doors and little privacy within, and certain to be draughty. Then came the "want to know ])eriod," when birds were things to be listed, identified with deadly certainty upon insufficient evidence, and treated in the precise manner of the multiplication table. These were days of wonderful dis- coveries. \\hen the Chat seen at a new angle was recorded as a Prothonotary Warbler, causing one's really scientific friend to smile indulgently and yawn, but quite politely, behind his hand. Then a reasonable familiarity with the common birds settled over me, and their personalities became the prime factor. (Not but what I shall always be hazy about certain sparrows and fall-coated warblers when seen in the bush.) I no longer strove frantically to count every robin in a flock, or filled pages in my note-book to prove that a flock of bluebirds seen on a certain February 11, at 10 a. m.. was not the same as a flock of the identical birds seen the same after- noon just before sunset. There is always a time when most students waste much vital force in trj'ing to prove the unprovable and absolutely unimportant. In fact, it is not until the days of the spirit and ethical enjoyment supple- ment the dusty days of drj'-as-dust note-book record that the real meaning of the birds, the birds about home, the birds of the garden, and above all. the birds of one's own garden, are revealed. When this once happens, the full chord is struck, combined not only of their meaning to us, but also to the new relation in which we stand to them. In this relationship lies the full reward that comes to those of middle years to whom the bird has ceased to be a bit of anatomy, a step in the ascending creative ladder, but is a personality, a voice that joins past to present so imperceptibly that the transition to the future is an assured finality. Enough ! So comes February again, the discouraged and discouraging long-short month of the year, and yet no two Februarj's are precisely alike. Twelve only of these months of which I have record have been absolutely snow- and ice-bound, while all the others have varied from largo to ca['ricioso and aUesro con fuoco in their movements. But, there is mostly a but to times of trial. If the birds are few^r than in December and J-fl!rtt)fTO|j(k<'*a^''*''-'.-' ' • ■•»' ■■ -5^^ 1 r>S i"-- -• > --',.Vy«<> -- •:■■■ ■-■- - • ■• AMKKICAN AV'UCKT. ^ Life-size. tree Land, from which we will pick all the big bugs and slugs and things as soon as we are a bit rested." February was a week old when I looked out, a little after sunrise, at the apple-tree feeding-place below my bedroom window. I rubbed my eyes the more clearly to see what was at first a confused mass of deep red and bright blue. The red proved to be a handful of waste cranberries, put out upon the prin- ciple of giving all the variety possible, or the chance attraction of novelty. The blue was not of the Jays that, as usual, were conspicuous winter residents, though several of these boisterous, beautiful cowards were lurking nearby, and making disagreeable remarks, in which the presence of the little Owl in the box had its place. No, the blue was soft, rich, and unmistakably the color worn only by Blue- birds in at least "near-spring." Three of them were there attacking the tart fruit with all the vigor of Catbids at the beginning of the berry season. I could not prove it by any scientific axiom, and yet I know that those birds had come in the night, how far one may not guess ; for, in spite of their joy in the succulent food, there was a sort of lassitude about their general actions that did not belong to the roving flock of a dozen that had turned up at intervals all winter. With bills dyed red, they presently paused, cleaned the juice off by polishing on the wooden shelf with a deft sidewise motion, and then they attacked the suet with as much relish as the Chickadees. "Go down to the farm and see the new boxes I've put up for you," I said, opening the window, and quite forgetting our different methods of speech : "They may not be so pleasant as the holes in the apple-trees, but they have mostly toppled over since you left in the fall, and my shingle houses are quite as good as the fence-post and telegraph-pole lodgings of which you are so fond." The Bluebirds fluttered over to a lilac bush and, with backs toward the sky and breast to earth, instantly merged in their surroundings, and became practi- cally invisible as they settled for a rest. Then, as I looked and listened, a Song Sparrow piped up down by the spring and the clear call "Spring o' the Year" came up from the Grackle-plowed meadow, where some old stalks of buckwheat still dangled seeds about the edges. "Mother Earth is surely turning over in bed," I said, "even though she is not quite ready to throw off her covers and awake." The Bluebirds have come to us, and tomorrow, perhaps, the Brown Creepers, Tree Sparrows and White- throats, that have been with us since December, will move on, and some one to the northward will look out of the window, and, taking heart even as I did, say, "See, the spring migration has begun !" Yet; without the birds, February would be only the disagreeable long-short month of broken promises. Surely, at this time of year in my garden, the birds make the season worth the living. — Bird Lore. 415 The A\OCet {Rccunnrostra americana) By Henry VV. Henshavv Length : ISy^ inches. Range: Breeds from eastern Oregon, central Alberta, and southern Mani toba south to southern California, southern New Mexico, northwestern Texas, northern Iowa, and central Wisconsin; winters from southern California and southern Texas to southern Guatemala. Though not a game bird in any proper sense, the avocet finds mention here because it furnishes a shining mark for the gunner, and in consequence has prac- tically disappeared from the Atlantic coast. Numbers of avocets are still to bi seen along the borders of sloughs and ponds in the far West, though even there the bird by no means enjoys the immunity from persecution it deser\'es. Its striking colors, its vociferous voice, long neck and bill, and its longer legs, com bine to render the a\ocet so conspicuous that its only chance for safety rests in seeing its enemies before it is seen by them. Its long legs have another function as they enable the bird to wade in the shallows, where its food is chiefly obtained, while its webbed toes enable it to swim easily when need arises. Its slender, upward-curved bill may well excite wonder, but Nature knew what she was about in designing it, for its form admirably adapts it for finding and seizing any pre\ that may rest on the surface of the muddy ooze, or for probing for various larval forms common in fresh water. It nests on the margins of the ponds which it frequents, and no sooner does an intruder appear than it flies to meet him with loud outcries that unmistakably betray the secret it is so anxious to conceal. The avocet, so innocent and beautiful, is now protected by the Federal law and, as its flesh is worthless, neither sportsmen nor gunners have any excuse for slaughtering it. To a novice the compound curve of a scythe handle might seem an awkward thing, but a little practice upon stubborn grass will justify its precise lines of beauty. Similarly, the long upturned beak of the avocet appears quite out- landish until one learns how perfectly it is adapted to its peculiar task. Since the bird frequents brackish and muddy pools, as well as the margins of streams, it does not depend largely upon eyesight in securing its prey, but thrusts its bill under water imtil its convexity strikes the bottom. Then, guided by this "heel," the bill is swayed rapidly from side to side with a scythe-like motion, and the bird keeps up a sort of dabbling, as it tests the various objects of food encoun- tered. The avocet is a bold wader, pushing out into the pond breast deep. If it gets beyond its depth it is nowise concerned, for it swims readily, and can dive also, if necessar)'. Long bill, long neck, long legs, web feet — a curious bird. 416 Getting Ready to Welcome the Birds By Henry Turner Bailey "I do not wish to think of living where birds cannot live with me. I never have lived in such a place, not even when I roosted on Beacon Hill in the upper story of the great city of Boston." — Dallas Lore Sharp. Where do they come from? The usual answer is, "From the South.'' Until recently that vague answer represented about all we were sure of. From how far south? From what regions of the South? By what routes do they come? How long does the journey require? These and many other questions cannot yet be answered with certainty for all kinds of birds. The new trick, the num- bering of birds by means of a metal tag attached to the leg, is helping bird lovers to answer them and to ask others ! We know that a few kinds of birds, the owls, downy woodpeckers, English sparrows, and crows, haunt the same locality the year round. A few others, like the chickadee and the robin, seem to stay with us ; but it may be that the Canadian birds winter in the northern states while our own birds are enjoying themselves further south. Most of our birds, however, leave us in the fall and return in the spring. Some, like the bluebirds and blackbirds, go only as far as our southern states. The swallows and the swifts go to Mexico and Yucatan. The orioles, the bobo- links, and the redstarts go to Venezuela and Guiana. Some of the warblers who summer in Alaska winter in Brazil. The golden plovers fly from the St. Law- rence, 8,000 miles over-sea to the La Plata! They all have to go for food, the naturalists say. But why should they return ? Do they exhaust the food supply in the south? Whatever the reason, back they come, and the whole northern world gives them welcome. Nobody knew how they traveled until an astronomer looking through his telescope at the moon, one night, a few years ago, happened to see the birds crowding one of the great highways of the air. The birds fly mostly in the night, often high up, out of sight. They seem to be guided chiefly by coast lines, and rivers, and mountain chains. The New England birds come up the coast to New York and follow the Sound eastward. The Connecticut Valley birds turn northward at Saybrook ; the rest at Narragansett or Buzzards Bay. Some of these follow the Merrimac Valley to the White Mountains, others go on to Maine, and steer inland by means of the Kennebunk and the Penobscot. At last, somehow, they all get back to the places where they were born, so we are told, and since the tagging began, we are quite sure they do, in some cases, at least. You have often seen the swallows gathering in late summer, to make the southward journey together. Did you ever see such flocks returning? I was at Katahdin Iron Works, Maine, one spring when the chimney swifts arrived 417 in a body, llicre must have been a hundred thousand of them. An old resident there said they come every spring to the great chimney of the ruined furnaces, hold high carnival for a week or so, and then separate for the summer. Sometimes when the weather is bad the migrating flocks fly low, and in fogpy weather are often attracted by the shore lights. "The Bartholdi Statue at the mouth of the Hudson River, is directly in the path of the great streams of migrants," writes Frank M. Chapman. "On one occasion after a storm no less than 1,400 birds were picked up at its base, having been killed by striking the staute or the pedestal upon which it rests." •"The first arrivals from the South," says Ralph Hoffmann, "the crow black- birds, bluebirds, etc., reach the lower Hudson \'allcy by the end of Feliruary, and the latitude of Boston early in .March. These are birds that have wintered within fairly easy reach, in the Carolinas, perhaps, or in Virginia. Stormy weather delays them ; a warm spell with southwest winds brings them early. All through March and early April other birds which have wintered in the Southern States arrive. In the meantime, birds that have wintered in the tropics have been pushing into the Gulf States or into Florida, and at each warm wave they advance, till in May they flood New York and New England in a great wave. The first warm, fair night following a hot day, or, better still, two suc- cessive hot days, between the third and tenth of May. will generally bring the first orioles; the next such spell of heat will bring all the northern warblers and thrushes. H early May is cool and clear for days, the birds do not arrive in a great body, but slip through in little flocks, almost unnoticed. A cold northeast storm following suddenly on a hot wave makes the best conditions for observing migrants ; they are held back in great numbers, and as they feed low in the bushes in such weather, they can be easily studied. About the city of New York, migration is practically over by E>ecoration Day." The migrating birds have many secrets. Why do solitary birds arrive some- times several days in advance of the host? Why do the male redwings arrive several weeks before the females? Why do the rusty blackbirds come straggling along for two months? Why are the winter wrens, so abundant farther north, so rarely seen cii route ' Why are some birds ]irominent in the fall migration who are seldom seen in spring? The answer is they fly southward by one route and northward by another. But why? Oh, the birds are fascinating friends! My own special "crush" is the ruby-crowned kinglet, one of the smallest of birds, with one of the sweetest of songs. He is one of the most inconspicuously dressed notwithstanding his flaming crown. Though I have never seen him fly more than a few feet at a time, this atom of a bird winters around the (uilf of Mexico and nests somewhere in Labrador. By the records penciled in the margin of my bird book I find that he condescends to greet me from the big cedar at the back door of my studio, not earlier than the 25th of .April and not later than the 27th. year after year. Is it the same bird? How does he manage to hold so closely to his time schedule ? He never seems to be in a hurry, although 418 he seldom stays long in any one place. How much time does he spend on his three thousand mile trip twice a year? Some of the migrating birds are said to fly more than a mile a minute. Do you realize what that means? A bird could leave Havana, Cuba, at seven p. m., take breakfast at Charleston, South Carolina, sup in Boston at seven that evening, if he wished, and greet the next sunrise in Newfoundland! Study the routes of migration, especially the one followed by the birds in your locality. Make a map. Study pictures of the birds you are likely to see. Read about them in some good bird book. Become familiar with the time sched- ules of the birds ; then you will know which ones to expect in March, in April, and in May. Go to bed early that you may be up with the sun from March 20th to May 20th, at least. The most favorable time for seeing birds is before seven in the morning. Get some friend interested in birds to go with you. Wear old brown and gray clothing. Dress warmly. Protect your feet. Learn to walk quietly. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open. Take an opera glass, if you have one, and a note book. Compare what you find with a good bird book. As a beginner I found Ralph Hoffmann's book most helpful. His keys for identifying birds classify by color and size. (1 ) When you see a new bird look first for his colors. What are they and where are they? The diagram, Plate H, showing the principal parts of a bird, will help you to locate the colors, and to understand the descriptions in the bird book. The most prominent identifying colors are usually about the head and breast, and the wings, especially the upper portions of the wing, which frequently display well defined markings of color called wingbars. (2) Think next of the bird's size. Is he larger or smaller than an English sparrow? Is he as large as a robin? How does he compare with a crow? These theree perfectly familiar birds serve as standards for comparison. (3) Now notice where the bird is and what he is doing. (4) Try now to think about the shape of the bird. That shape is con- veniently thought of as being made up of two pointed ovals, with three additions — neck, tail, leg. Think of the shape of the ovals, of their relative size, and of their relative position. "If I could put my woods in song, and tell what's there enjoyed All men would to my garden throng and leave the cities void." — Emerson. 419 •The PrOthonotary W^irbler (ProtonotarmrUrea) By W. Leon Dawson Length: ")'4 inches. Range: Eastern United States, west of Nebraska and Kansas, north to \ ir- ginia, Michigan and Iowa, casually to New England. Colors: Ilciid, neck and breast, bright orange-yelluw ; bliic-gray wings rninji and tail; bill, black; tail with white spots near the tip. Pre-eminent in a galaxy of beauties is this truly "golden" warbler of the swamps. He does not come over hill and dale with a rush and flutter of wings and a nervous anxiety to get on, such as characterizes most of the northern migrants, but proceeds rather in leisurely fashion along the valleys of the larger streams. Sedate in movement and fearless, but not hold, in bearing, this rare bird appears to bring with him something of the languorous air of the Southland from which he hails. His chosen haunts, too, flooded lowland woods, are even more strongly suggestive of those watery fastnesses of the south, where the species is found in greatest abundance. The Prothonotary Warbler is, so far as known, the only one of the family to build regularly in holes in trees. We infer that it has drifted into this custom within zoologically recent years, since its eggs are unusually dark colored, while those of all strictly hole-nesting birds arc pure white. The eggs of this warbler exhibit two types of coloration, with, of course, every variety of intermediate form. Those of the first type are heavily and rather evenly spotted and dotted with dull brown, and show pale lavender shell-marks. The other sort are boldly blotched with reddish brown so heavily at times that the ground color is nearly obscured. According to Professor Butler, the females constnict the nests and perform all the duties of incubation. A few days are allowed to elapse after the comple- tion of the nest before laying begins. An egg is laid each day until the set is complete, and two broods are often reared each season, especially southerly. During the mating season the males are exceedingly irascible. One hapless wight I saw, who, choosing the wrong platform for his song, was set upon vigorously by a jealous rival. At the first onslaught the pair fell fighting to the ground. They picked themselves up hastily, and one, probably the original assailant, chased the other about for as much as three minutes. In and out they wound, now coming straight toward one like golden bullets, now threading the mazes of a tree-top like flashes of fire. But the fugitive was plucky, too, for a fashion, and although he thought of nothing but flight, it was always within the bounds of the disputed territory. Finally the chase languished somewhat, and I left the contestants, faint yet pursuing. 420 ^^i;J2 e 46 PROTHONOTARV WARBLER. (Protonotaria citrea). About Life-size. COPyRi&Mi \toD, ey *. w mumford, cmicaco The Gnat-catchers By Millie Noel Long I was spending the summer at a country place in southern Ohio. My study was a large, breezy attic shaded by tall trees. Just outside my west window were the slender branches of a young poplar tree, and one May morning I discovered that the tree contained a nest. For years I had been an observer of birds, but had never discovered so queer a nest as this one. The outside was many-colored, and, in spots, shone with a silky lustre. With the aid of my glass I soon obtained a correct idea of the materials. The silky spots were composed of the strong, glossy fibres of plants. The bright-colored patches were petals of flowers which had been woven into the structure. The nest was small and cup-shaped, and suspended from one of the most slender twigs. The next morning, at early dawn. I heard a soft little warble, and creeping noiselessly to the window, saw both the male and female birds, the former sitting above the nest, singing his little song — the latter greatly agitated as she balanced herself on the edge of the nest. After studying the outlines and coloring of the tiny couple, I decided that they were Blue-gray Gnat-Catchers. The female continued her anxious flutterings, and at intervals, poked and thrust at something in the depths of the nest. Finally, the male bird ceased singing and descended to help her. Together they worked anc* pushed, and managed to rollover the edge an egg, which seemed enormous com- pared with that tiny nest. As fast as possible I descended to the spot where the egg had fallen, a distance of thirty feet, and although it was badly crushed, I could identify it as the egg of the cow troupial, that well-known tramp among birds. It was of a dull white, inclined to buff, and marked with irregular spots of brown. After- ward I frequently heard the soft little warble of the male bird from my window, but the song could not be heard from the ground because of its small volume. At times, when the birds were very busy, I could hear a soft "tsee, tsee, tsee," no louder than the squeak of a mouse. The resemblance between this pair was stronger than is usual among birds. Both were bluish-gray on the upper part of the body, and bluish white beneath. The female appeared a shade lighter than her mate, and the black line over the eye in the male was absent in the female. Including the long slender tail, the birds did not exceed five inches in length. They continued their house-keeping, but the nest was too deep to afford me a glimpse of the eggs or of the young birds when they appeared. Just at the most interesting time, when the young birds were at the right age to begin to fly, I was called away for a period of several weeks, and on my return all the birds had disappeared, leaving the faded, dingy, empty nest still firmly clinging to the bough. 421 The Louisiana W^ater-Thrush iSdurus noveboracmsis Holahilis) By Lynds Jones Length : (>^ inches. Colors: Above, dark olive brown; whiter liclow tli.in liu' water thrush. Range : Eastern United States north to southern Xew luigiand and southern Michigan, casually north to Lake George, northeastern Xew York, west to the plains. In winter, West Indies, southern Mexico, and Central America to Panama. Amidst our more modest surroundings the Louisiana water thrush occu|)ies much the same position relatively that the water ouzel does in the mountainous regions of the West. Both birds possess themselves of the wildest in nature which is to be had, and both are the animating spirits of their chosen haunts. Ahhough no one suspects any structural affinity between the two, a half dozen other close points of resemblance might be noted, not least among which would be poetic temperament and the talent in song. Only the most picturesque and unfrequented glens are tenanted by this poet- bird from the South. Where cool waters trickle down from mossy ledges and pause in shallow pools to mirrir the foliage of many trees, here, and here alone, you will find the water thrush at home. The bird will discover himself to you by an imperious t'liifik of question and alarm, after which he will pause at the water's edge impatiently, as though awaiting your withdrawal. The bird stands with the body horizontal or with the hinder parts elevated, jetting the tail vertically from time to time without moving the head, or else bowing with profound but uncon- vincing gravity. If you are discreet enough to withdraw, or to pretend to, the bird will proceed with the business of getting breakfast, either by wading about in the shallow water, or by searching noisily among the dead leaves hard by. Nor does he forget to give vent to unallaycd suspicions by an energetic chink. Or by and by he tries hiding, and disappears mysteriously behind a bunch of ferns. One minute, two, three, are allowed to elapse. "Ah, that means a nest,"' says the shrewd obser\er ; and he moves forward with becoming caution. But the bird is up and otT in a trice, and flies down ilic glen without an apparent pang. .\ search is made, half-heartedly, with the old result — ^"nothing but leaves." Wherever the nest is to be found (there be those who claim to know, but the author is not one of them), one thing is sure, the bin! regards himself as trustee of the whole glen, and his watchful fidelity is imi)artially bestowed upon all parts of it. If you become especially interested in any one spot, — lor reasons best known to yourself — why of course he and his wife can go elsewhere; and they move oft', sniffing loftily. Every half hour or so the male bird ranges the length of the glen. Now he dashes like a swallow across soiue open glade. Now he pauses on a log or stone; alternately moving and inspecting until his voice is 422 lost in the distance. You may be near his nest, but he does not deign to notice you, further than to give vent to a disdainful "huuiph" in passing. The song of the resident water thrush is one of our choice things. The bird has found the Pierian spring, tucked away somewhere among our hills — in ]^Iorgan County, I think — and has tasted to good advantage. Its notes are wild and ringing clear, but sweet also as honey which the wild bees have made. There is a tumultuous passage in it too, which may occupy only the middle por- tion or may engulf the whole. At times the singer's main force seems to be expended in the opening, peals, so that it almost instantly falls back into a milder cadence or bubbling twitter, in which its warbler affinities are quickly recognized. As to its platform the musician is not so particular. Usually a free branch from ten to twenty feet high is selected, but I have seen the bird sing his best song while standing knee deep in water. There is said to be also an ecstasy song which lifts the bird quite clear of earth. Audubon declared the water thrush's song equal to that of the English nightingale, but a somewhat less extravagant claim will leave us with a keener appreciation of the bird's real merit. Prairie Chicken {Tuympanuckus amerkans) Range : Southeastern Saskatchewan and southern Manitoba to eastern Colorado, northeastern Texas, Arkansas, western Kentucky, and Indiana. "The chicken" is a lover of the open prairie and as a substitute readily accepted the wheat and cornfields of the early settlers, in which it was, and still is, a valuable ally of agriculture. However great its value to the farmer, if we are to judge from present appearances, this fine prairie grouse must soon be writ- ten of in the past tense. Formerly abundant all over the Mississippi region from Manitoba south ^o Louisiana and Texas," and extending as far west as Colorado, today only a scant remnant of its former numbers is left, and this remnant is fast dwindling imder the combined attacks of sportsmen who should know better, and of gunners who neither know nor care for consequences. Ranging only a short distance north of our boundaries, the prairie chicken is in the strict sense of the word an American game bird, and one must go far to find a finer. Being non-migratory, it is State property, and its fate rests solely with the individual States within which it resides. Considering its past abundance, the fine sport its pursuit aiTord's to the legitimate sportsman, its delicacy for the table, and the valuable service it renders the farmer in destroying his insect enemies, the record of its treatment is a shameful one. In many States no protection what- ever was given the bird till its extinction was practically assured, while in the States in which adequate legislation has been enacted, open seasons, too large bag limits, and inadequate enforcement of the laws have produced their inevitable effect. Nothing short of a closed season for a term of years will turn the tide and save this noble bird from extinction. 423 Glow Worm and Mockingbird By F. P. Powell As we went down our garden walk the other evening we saw a glow wonii resting on the edge of a mockingbird's bungalow. Just why he did not i)ut out his lantern as we came along we do not know, but keeping it lit. he showed us the little fellows inside the nest. Our Southern glow worms, you must remember, are not the little sparks of your Northern garden, but are real torches — streamers sometimes two or three feet in length, and lasting for two or three minutes at a time. It was well worth the while! A country house built by a bird and the whole family enjoying the moonlight evening! The cardinal birds had been visiting us, and had taken baths in a concrete basin behind the power house: but we had had no indication of an adoption, nor of a thank you. Occasionally a brilliant fellow had dropped down with his wife into the chicken yard, to dine with the Rhode Island Reds. One day last week we found a couple evidently intending to home it with us, and not long after we found the home in a kuniquat tree. It had been built and furnished clicaply but handsomely, and snugly in the trundle bed lay three young birds. Already these chaps, fed from our chicken cribs, have fledged and flown. Instead of having food carried to them they come now with their parents and have Icamcd how to liberally help themselves. Every morning we are waked up just before daybreak with a call from the mulberry tree, with "wake up. wake up"; but sometimes it is "get out. get out." Not much trouble is taken to infuse music into the order, and yet we do not take it amiss. It is a broad hint not to lose the glory of the morning, and we are quite willing to take it. Really it seems to be meant for laggard folk, to get out of bed with the dawn; and why not? Daybreak is the best of the day, and the birds have found it out. We are watching now to see what will be done with the ini])ty nest. Will another litter of eggs be laid, to add to our tenants? Really a home is not a home until the birds have found )()u out. If you are planting and living as you should, with plenty of shade, plenty of water and ]ilenty of food, the birds will soon discover it, and those that feel safe with you will bide with you. It was a long while before we could get the wood thrushes to put their nests near our house, and the orioles stole our cherries several years before they swung their nests in our orchard, but they came nearer, and at last homed in our orchard. We love all birds, that is, nearly .ill. excepting English sparrows, bluejays and that sort of oriole that sticks his l)ill into forty cherries, spoiling what he cantiot eat. We have no symi>athy for hawks, not if the government does send out bulletins every month in their apology. Rut what would life be without plenty of catbirds, with robins, and grosbeaks, goldfinches in the North ; with nut-hatches and chickadees for winter? .\nd down here it does not become tolerable until the mockingbirds and cardin.il birds bid us good morning and good night. 424 There is a funny fellow that chips in just after sunset, with "Will's Widow ! Will's Widow !" and keeps it up until midnight. We have never found his nest, nor have we any idea whether he considers his ejaculations to be musical or prosaic. But he punctuates the hours until "Bob White," just at daybreak, crowds him out with his hearty calls under our window. ■'Bob" is so wonderfully like our Rhode Island Reds that we are always glad to have him invade the yard, and if he brings a family of sixteen to twenty to breakfast, all the better. He is an inquisitive fellow and very soon finds out where he is welcome. Everybody likes him, but most people prefer him on the platter. Xo man shall glorify his sportsmanship by shooting "Bob" when he comes to us for protection. He has already found that out right well. We are not quite sure that birds do not study us quite as much as we study them. There are kodaks pointed at us out of the bushes, and memoranda made that do not always go into print. It reads possibly like this : "A sober old couple lives in the cottage by Lake Lucy." "The people on Sconondo Knolls don't mind it if we help ourselves to cherries when hungry." "We know where an old lady lives that hangs out bones of cold mornings for birds to pick." This is not written out on foolscap, with Dixon's pencils, but a bird memory Avill serve as well as a school boy's slate. Sure enough ! We looked into the kumquat this morning, and there were three more mouths wide open and three pairs of eyes studying us potentially. Observation on both sides, and the birds were calling on an old inheritance for an explanation of our sort of folk. Some ancestor had laid up in their brains a bad record of human folk in general ; "stupid," "selfish," "arrogant." We will try to correct the record and shall be on our best behavior while these fellows are watching us. Short on English, they gave us a bit of bird talk and we answered in the same pidgin English. We chippered a bit, and tried to get acquainted. In this way if we meet the valuable birds half way they will soon come the rest of the way, and home will be vastly more homeful. ^^'e are ambitious to have a bird house at every turn in our garden walks. We have seven in the grape vines around our Northern home, mostly robins' nests. These fellows know that they are natural human companions. The indigo bird and the catbird are not far away, but they are well hid. In the fall one likes to run across a goldfinch nest in a currant bush, and all summer a right sort of man steps carefully in his clover field, and works in his raspberry lot with caution lest he disturb a sparrow's home. It is curious what a company of co-workers we can become if we will. Only never lose yourself in the forest of supposing these song-full companions are not also thoughtful and friendly. God made this world in such a way that we need co-operation with all sorts of creatures to make our homes complete. Down here in Florida we have not found a single bird's nest that shows architectural skill. The birds all seem to be so wrapped up in the simplicities of everydav life that they dispensed with art. The mockingbird is even more care- 425 less than a catbird, carrying a tloiil)Ic liatulful of handy sticks into an orange tree, where he does little more than pile thcni together, without even lining tlieni for his eggs. The cardinal bird also likes to have his house well ventilated, but there is a pretense of lining, made mostly out of pine needles. These, if woven together, do not make so bad a hammock. I do not think any of these birds could use the same nest two years in succession, althougii ver)- likely they might use it twice in a season. But, then, just think of it! What fun it is to find such a nest of birdlets in January — any day, all winter ; not to mention the roses on your Marechal Neil, and calls to wake you up in the morning, as likely in midwinter as midsummer. — The hidcpendcut. The Mexican Mot Mot (Momottis momota) By Gerard Alan Abbott Length : \:l inches. Range : From Mexico to Brazil. Food : Insects, reptiles and fruit. .\ny one of several species of long-tailetl, poserinc birds of the genus momolus, having a strong serrated beak and is sometimes called wottiiot. In most of the .species tlie two long middle tail feathers are racket-shaped at the tip, when mature. These interesting birds arc natives of southeni Mexico, Central .\merica and northern South America. Building no nest they deposit the eggs in depres- sions of sand, generally on the side of a hill. The interesting feature about these birds is that they trim their own tail feathers. The long feathers are naturally barbed to the point, but the middle portion of the barbs is sheared off by the beak, it is said in order to preserve the balance of the birds in flight. This shy bird lives in dense forests. The note is a peculiar call, "Houton, houton," from which call is derived one of the names. White-Fronted Goose {Anser alUfrons gambell). Range: Breeds on and ne.ir the Arctic coast from northeastern Siberia east to northeastern Mackenzie and south to lower Yukon \'alley ; winters from southern British Columbia to southern Lower California and Jalisco. Though occasionally met with on the Atlantic coast and not uncommon in the Mississippi Valley, the while-fronted goose is essentially a bird of the far West, and is particularly abundant in the Pacific Coast States. This is one of the geese which used to visit the wheat fields of California in such numbers as to thrcafen the crop, and which men were hired to kill and frighten away. The hordes of former days are now represented by comjjaratively small numbers, and as the flesh is toothsome the problem of the near future is not how to 426 14 MEXICAN MOT MOT. iMomotus swainsoni). % Life-size. ^IGHT 1900, B* ■destroy the birds most cheaply but what methods to employ to preserve them. White-fronted geese were found by Nelson breeding abundantly in the Yukon delta from the last of May till well into June. Their nests are placed on the grassy borders of lakelets, whence the young can be quickly led into the pro- tecting water. In far-off Alaska this and the numerous other species of waterfowl that summer there in multitudes not only find comparatively safe solitudes in which to nest but, what is equally or more important, abundant food for themselves and their young. When they arrive in Alaska, late in April or early in May, according to the season, they find the previous year's crop of heath berries awaiting them in cold storage. Again in August and September the new crop of berries is ripe, and upon this the geese fatten and prepare themselves for the trip southward. Thus Alaska, the acquisition of which from Russia has more than fulfilled our expectations in many ways, proves to be the mecca of our waterfowl which, resorting there in spring by thousands, return in fall in fourfold numbers. Cedar WaXWing {BombycUla cedronim) Length, about 7^4 inches. Known from every other American bird, except its larger cousin, the Bohemian waxwing, by its crest, grayish brown upper parts, _yellow tail band and sealing wax-like tips to secondaries and, sometimes, to tail feathers. Range : Breeds from central British Columbia, Alberta, southern Keewatin, ■northern Ontario and northwestern Quebec south to southern Oregon, northern New Mexico, Kansas, northern Arkansas, and North Carolina ; winters over most •of United States and southward to Mexico and Panama. In clothing the cedar bird. Mother Nature essayed her very best and reached the limit of quiet elegance. As if aware of the distinction conferred by its smooth delicately tinted plumage, the waxwing has the air of a well-bred aristocrat, and comports itself with a dignity that is very impressive. Why this beautiful creature should be denied a voice is a mystery but, with the exception of the faintest kind oi a whistle and a few low notes, seldom heard, the bird is silent. But its beauty and the good it does should insure it careful protection. Except during the nesting season, which is very late, the bird is a wanderer, moving about the country in flocks and remaining a shorter or longer time in a given locality according to the abundance of food. The waxwing is a berry -eater and its local name of "cherry bird" indicates that it by no means disdains cultivated varieties. Fortunately the bulk of the fruit it takes consists of wild species, especially in winter, when cedar berries are greedily devoured. In the west it includes in its bill of fare mulberries and pepper berries. While insects constitute only a comparatively small percentage of its diet, those eaten include :Some very destructive species such as scales and the dreaded elm beetle. 427 How the Blue Birds Came Back By Joseph Grinnell Yesterday the snow melted from the top of the great rocks in the woods ; the evergreens shading the rocks lost their white load that had been bearing down the branches for a month; the fences straggled their lean legs wide apart, as if it were summer, only the tips of their toes resting on the surface snow; the north roof of the barn fringed itself with icicles that tumbled down by noon, sticking up at the base of the barn in tlie drifts head foremost; the top dressing of white powder that for weel;.jW("^ fT^AW. ..j??te.n /^vmiS^ . The House Sparrow J. O. Skinner Mr. Thompson, a Canadian, referring, about twenty-two years ago. to the unwise introduction into the United States of this intolerable nuisance when its character and habits were so well known in England, made the following state- ment : "What wonder that the English farmer stared in blank amazement when first he heard of it, or that he failed to account for the action, except on the assumption that America had been visited by a wave of temporary insanity." We shall attempt to briefly give a few of the facts from which this inference was doubtless drawn. The house sparrow (Passer domesticus) , commonly called in America the "English" sparrow, has been known for ages as one of the worst of feathered pests. The name "English" sparrow is misleading, since it would indicate that it originated in England which is not really the case, for its history begins with that of man, and it is referred to by Aristotle and many other European writers on natural history who followed him ; in fact, there is reason for believing that it was known to people of whom we have no written history. When writing was invented the sparrow was selected for the hieroglyphic symbolizing enemy, and proofs of its destructive habits have been cited by certain authors showing that it has been the enemy of mankind for more than five thousand years. This pro- lific little poacher, belonging to the granivorous family {Fringillidae), not only does much damage to grain, fruit, and other products of the soil, and disfigures all buildings used by it for nesting purposes, but it is so pugilistic that it drives away many insectivorous birds which are of great benefit to those engaged in agriculture or horticulture. More than any other wild bird, it is attached to human dwellings and is not known to thrive anywhere far away from the habitations or works of men, extending its range in new countries as settlements are formed and lands are cultivated. It has already fully adapted itself to all continents and has been transported to some of the most distant islands in the Indian and Pacific oceans. In the fall of 1850, Mr. Nicolas Pike, of Brooklyn, N. Y., brought over from Europe eight pairs of this bird and turned them loose the following spring. For some unaccountable reason, unless it be that they were the recipients of too much kindness, they did not thrive, and in 1852 a second and more successful efifort was made. In 1854 and 1858 it was introduced at Portland, Maine, and at Peacedale, R. I., and a few birds escaped at Boston. During the next ten years it was imported direct from Europe to eiglit other cities, and in one case 1,000 birds \yere sent to Philadelphia in a single lot. By 1870, it had become established as far south as Columbus, S. C, Louisville, Ky., and Galveston, Texas ; as far west as St. Louis, Mo., and Davenport, Iowa, and so far North as Montreal, Canada, thus gaining a residence in twenty states, the 431 District of Columbia, and two provinces of Canada, and the end of its migration was not yet. Between 1870 and 1880 it had extended its habitat over 15,000 square miles, and in 1873 Salt Lake City and San Francisco had been reached by this rapid colonizer. Even this extended area did not satisfy its migratory instincts, for, during the next five years it established itself in more than 500,000 square miles of territory, and by 1886 thirty-five states and five territories, practically all of the country east of the Mississippi (except parts of three southern states), as well as eight western states, had been invaded and occupied. Its range of habita- tion now covered, including nearly 150,000 square miles in Canada, over 1,000,000 square miles, and by 1898 only three states (Wyoming, Nevada, and Montana) and three territories (New Mexico, Arizona, and Alaska) were free. It pre- sumed that by this time it has reached even those districts, and its occupancy of the entire United States is complete. Besides the United States, New Zealand and Australia have been much dam- aged by the "English" sparrow, it being regarded in certain -A.ustralian colonies as a nuisance almost equal to the rabbit. Although introduced by an acclimatiza- tion society on the North Island of New Zealand in 1866, it threatened, sixteen years later, to spread over the whole island, since it appeared in the most inac- cessible places, contrary to its usual preference for cities and towns. This was no doubt due to overcrowding, the result of its rapid propagation. Having been carried to Victoria in 1865, it was not long before it discovered and occupied Queensland, New South Wales, South Australia, and Tasmania, although thus far it has been excluded from Western Australia by vigorous legal measures prohibit- ing its introduction. It will no doubt reach there in due time on its own trans- portation. It has already migrated to many other parts of the world and may be regarded as a veritable little cosmopolite. It is also present on Mauritius, in the Indian Ocean, and having reached Honolulu twenty years ago, it is fair to assume that if it has not already "prospected" our possessions in the Philippine Islands, it will do so very soon. On the Atlantic side it is found in Bermuda, the Bahamas, and Cuba, and possibly Porto Rico, although its presence there has not yet been reported. Its conduct in Bermuda since it was sent there in 1874 has been just as objectionable as elsewhere, so that, after at first punishing with a prescribed fine anyone who attempted its destruction, the lawmakers themselves were obliged, ten years later, to change their code by placing a legal premiim: on its extermination. Although the area of the islands is less than 20 square miles, nearly $3,000 was expended in two years for this purpose with no appreciable effect, so numerous had become the progeny of this prolific profligate. Although the house sparrow is now very generally distributed over Pennsyl- vania, it first appeared in the Cumberland Valley (Chambersburg) of that state about 1872. according to the observations of Mr. Davidson Greenawalt, and many have emigrated there from .^hippensburg, where one pair was carried from Philadelphia about 1868. It considers itself at home everywhere, apparently, and evidently comes to 432 stav wherever found. There is no instance in ornithology where any other bird has muhiplied so rapidly or covered such an extensive area in so short a time. This is not altogether surprising when it is remembered how much it has been assisted until recently, by persons unfamiliar with or indifferent to its character and habits. Not only has it been transported intentionally from place to place, but has been pampered until the mistake was made too manifest to be longer ignored. The number of eggs in a set varies from four to seven, and one pair of birds usually raises four, sometimes five, and even six broods, according to some observers, in a year. It takes very little computation to determine what the results of this extraordinary fecundity would presumably be in a single decade. As it always prefers cities, towns, or villages — in fact, does not go to the country ex- cept at harvest times, until it is crowded out by overpopulation following its rapid propagation — it is further protected, by this choice of habitation, against the dangers and hardships by which the increase of many other birds is restricted. As a rule excessive reproduction of a species in the animal kingdom, with its conse- quent overcrowding, results in disease (epidemics or parasites) which prevent its unlimited multiplication. This is not the case with the house sparrow ; it is one of the most vigorous of birds, notwithstanding its numerous progeny. It adapts itself wonderfully to diverse conditions, being able to endure the prolonged heat of tropical summer as well as to survive the protracted cold of a Canadian winter. In view of the reputation and record of this bird wherever found, and the repeated warnings given to those who were about to import it, the continued interest in it and persistent effort to secure and succor it has been, indeed, difficult to understand, unless in the belief that it was done with the mistaken idea that it would destroy insect pests,-particuularly canker worms, in the parks of cities, and where it was originally introduced. This error was pointed out at the time, but was ignored ; in fact, such a sparrow "boom" existed at one period in this country that parties so infatuated found it cheaper to import direct from Europe than from New York and other places at home. There were two classes who al- ways seemed anxious to have the house sparrow in this country. One was the European part of our population, who, remembering the surroundings of the "homes they had left, longed for its familiar chirp and suggestive cheerfulness ; the other was that class of people who thought they were getting an insectivore, although they were informed by competent authority to the contrary. Now, there is an insectivorous bird called and known in England as the hedge sparrow, but which is no sparrow at all. It is the Accetor modularis, belonging to an entirely ■diiiferent family (Sylznidw) . the old-world warblers, is related to the thrushes, and. like all of its family, feeds on insects almost entirely, while the sparrow family proper are mainly granivorous, except in the spring and summer when rais- ing their young, that they feed on insects and other soft food. It is reasonable to suppose that the importer of the house sparrow confused it in his mind with the hedge sparrow. 433 Soniiini, in the Dictionairc d'liistoire XaturcUc, nearly a eentnrv ago, writes that sparrows lived "only in society with man, dividing with him his grain, his fruit, and his home ; they attack the first fruit that ripens, the grain as it ap- proaches maturity, and even that which has been stored in granaries." He also states that "82 grains of wheat were counted in the craw of a sparrow shot by the writer; and Rougier de la Bergerie, to whom we owe excellent memoirs on rural economy, estimates that the sparrows of France consume annually 10,000,000 bushels of wheat." Reports from France have been confirmed by those from other countries, and the character of the house sparrow has been discussed in France, Germany, and Great I'.ritain for more than four centuries. The dam;ige done by it to agriculture and horticulture has been immense, simplv incalculable, for it has been inflicted directly and indirectly. Besides the direct injury by it to grain crops (wheat, corn, oats, rve, barley, buckwheat, etc.), to fruits, garden seeds, vegetables, and to buds, blossoms, and foliage of trees and vines, is also that resvdting indirectly from its molestation of other wild birds which are known to be deciiledly beneficial to the garden and farm. Testimony has been secured showing that there are at least 70 kinds of these, including martins, swallows, wrens, and bluebirds, which are interferred with to the great loss of farmers and gardeners. It not only succeeds in many instances in preventing many desirable birds from nesting, by occupying their premises and driving them away, but it even devours their eggs while they are absent finding and feeding on insects. For fifteen years, say from 1855 to 1870, after its colonization in America, the protests against its introduction were confined to a few well-informed natural- ists and to such naturalized persons as had observed its ravages elsewhere. (Gradu- ally, however, its advocates and defenders became less numerous. The evidence of the little criminal's guilt was irrefutable, as determined by competent witnesses in the form of innumerable dissections. Many methods, legislative and otherwise, it is true, have been adopted and pursued in various places to exterminate it. but without success. Pennsylvania enacted the following law June 4, 1883 : Section. 1. Be it enacted, etc., That from and after the passage of this act it shall be lawful at any season of the year to kill or in any way destroy the small bird known as the English sparrow. Many other states have done as much and more. Some towns and counties have offered bounties. One state (Michigan) paid at one time a bounty of one cent per head on English sparrows. Shooting, poisoning, trapping, and nest destroying have been resorted to without any appreciable effect. Probably the most promising method of checking its increase would be the systematic destruction of its nests and eggs during the breeding season. This has never been done on a large scale, although a few years ago the city of Boston undertook to clear the nests from Boston Common, .\bout 4,000 nests and l.OCX) 434 eggs were destroyed, but after three weeks the work was stopped by order of the mayor. The northern shrike is known to kill English sparrows, but since it occurs in the United States only in winter, and does not usually frequent cities or towns, its work as a sparrow destroyer would be problematical. The outlook for relief from this pest and nuisance is therefore serious and discouraging. A letter received by the writer from the late Dr. Elliott Coues, one of the leading ornithologists of his day, relative to this matter, contains the following disheartening statement : "The multiplication of these early lots and of many later ones has given the invincible foreigner an assured foothold over most of the United States from which he will never be dislodged. The case is paralleled in Australia and New Zea- land. I led the 'sparrow war' for twenty years and only surrendered to the inevi- table. You may do what you please, shoot or poison as many as you can, more will come to the funeral, and nothing you can do will make any appreciable differ- ence. The case is hopeless." Although generally considered a town bird it is well known also in the coun- try. Many insectivorous birds are driven away or seriously interfered with by it, and the writer has frequently seen the martin dispossessed, after a desperate resistance, of the premises provided for it by farmers, and ultimatly driven away entirely by the sparrow, from its home and neighborhood. Referring to the advent of the English sparrow, the Kansas City Journal quoted some time ago from the Topeka Journal as having "an account of the first English sparrows brought to Kansas. In 1864, F. \\\ Giles conceived the idea of importing some of these birds. He shipped in all 28 of them. They were confined in cages at his place in Topeka until all but five had died. At last the five were turned loose to take their chances of life or death, though Giles had no hope that they would live. They fooled him. They took up their home in the neighborhood. The following autumn there were 12 birds. The second season found 60, and the third summer about 3,000. Then they increased so fast thai no account could be kept, and in the twenty-five years which followed they spread all over the West." 435 The Tufted Puffin {Umda cirrhata) By Wells W. Cooke Length : 12 inches. Range: Pacific coast from CaHfoniia to Alaska. Four varieties of puffin are found in America. The bills of the puffin are short, stout and extremely broad vertically, with little horizontal width. The upper mandible projects beyond the lower, producing a resemblance to the parrot. A peculiar comb-like excrescence forms on bill at nesting time, a sex mark. The general color of the bird is black with a conspic- uous white faced mask; the long flowing yellow ear tufts are curved inward like the horns of a ram. Aside from the gulls and terns, puffins are probably the uneasiest birds about their breeding grounds. When not excitedly moving about the rocks, they are generally uttering their piercing notes, often more shrill than the scream of the gull. When the birds enter their burrows they may be heard uttering a sound not unlike a disturbed feline. Puffins are sociable birds, found in the uninhabited portions of our seacoasts, where they deposit their single white egg in burrows. Both male and female assist in incubation. From the burrow containing the downy young, the old bird may be removed with the hand when the nesting is usually found clinging by the bill to the wing or tail feathers of the parent. The puffin is an arctic sea bird allied to the auk, having a short, thick, swollen beak. Also related to the grebe and the loon, and more closely to the murre. Owing to the puffin's short wings, he is not a great flyer, but he does fly very well and also uses his wings under water to catch fish, etc. There are several species, varying from six and one-half to seventeen inches in length. The puffin has a huge triangular, gorgeously colored beak that gives it a look of clownish wisdom. On land it sits up on its short tail in an awkward, solemn fashion. In water it dives with a loon-like rapidity in pursuit of fish on which it feeds. The puffin nests in deep rock crevices, or, failing these and, in fact usually, at the end of a burrow excavated in a sand cliff. A single -white egg is placed in a rounded depression about three feet from the face of the cliff. Sentinels are placed to notify a nesting colony of the approach of danger. If an arm be thrust into a burrow to take a surprised puffin, it grasps with its bill, like a parrot, and holds on like an owl. The common puffin is found along the shores of the Atlantic from Maine and Scotland northward. The wings are weak; the tail scanty. The side of the face, breast, and abdomen are white. The rest of the plumage is of a jet black. In size the puffin resembles a small duck. 436 19B 1 L"l-ii-- . . H LWe si/e BY A. W. MUWFOflO, CHICAGO The Black-Headed Gr Osbe3.\i.(Zamelodiamelanocephala) By William L. Finley Length: About 8^4 inches. Range : Breeds from the Pacific coast to Nebraska and the Dakotas, and from southern Canada to southern Mexico ; winters in Mexico. The black-headed grosbeak is one of the birds of my childhood. As long ago as I can remember, I saw him in the mulberry and the elder trees about my home when the fruit was ripe. I did not know his name, but I knew him by his tl\^ bill, his bright colors and his high-keyed call-note. One has little trouble irt'lJfStting acquainted with a bird of such marked individuality. The black head, the red-brown on the breast brightening to lemon-yellow below and under the wings, the black tail and wings with two white wing-bars, are distinctive of the male. The female is more demurely dressed in dark brown and buff. But the garments are not the only distinctive features of the black-headed grosbeak. For several summers, I watched a pair of grosbeaks that lived in a clump of vine-maples on the hillside. The same pair, no doubt, returned to the thicket for several years. One day I stopped to look for a bird that was caroling in one of the maples. I saw the grosbeak mother singing her lullaby as she sat on her eggs. It looked to me so like a human mother's love. Few birds sing in the home. However much they wish to, they are afraid. As John Burroughs says, it is a very rare occurrence for a bird to sing while on its nest. But several times I have heard the black-headed grosbeak do it. How the grosbeak took up such a custom, I do not know, for birds in general are very shy about attracting attention to the nest. As a rule, he builds a loosely constructed nest of twigs, lined with fine roots. In the northern states, the nests are built in dogwoods, vine-maples and alders ; while, in the south, the bird often nests in chaparral, willows and other trees. The eggs are three and four in number, and are pale blue thickly spotted with brown. The black-headed grosbeak has a rollicking song, like that of the western robin and western tanager. I have, at times, found it difficult to distinguish the song of the grosbeak and that of the tanager. The black-headed grosbeak is brilliant both in dress and song. I loved to watch the male that lived in the clump of maples. He used to perch at the very top of a fir sapling near the nest, to stretch his wings and preen his tail, as if he knew his clothes were made for show. Early in the morning ke showed the (|uality of his singing; later in the day it often lacked finish. The tones sounded hard to get out, as if he were practising, — just running over the notes of an air that hung dim in his memory. But it was pleasing to hear his practice. The atmosphere was too lazy for per- fect execution. We had a good chance to study and photograph a pair of black-headed gros- beaks that nested near my home. We were soon on such intimate terms with 437 "both birds tliat we could watch them at close range. Nature has given the grosbeak a large and powerful bill, to crack seeds and hard kernels. It seemed to me this would be an inconvenience when it came to feeding children. If it was, the parents did not show it. The mother would cock her head to one side, so that her baby could easily grasp the morsel, and it was all so quickly done that only the camera's eye could catch the way she did it. She slipped her bill clear into the youngster's mouth, and he took the bite as hurriedly as if he were afraid the mother would change her mind and give it to the next babv. The three young grosbeaks left the nest the morning of July 6. They were not able to fly more than a few feet, but they knew how to perch and call for food. I never heard a more enticing dinner song. The minute a youngster's appetite was satisfied, he always took a nap. There was no worry on his mind as to where the next bite was coming from. He just contracted into a fluffy ball, and he didn't pause a second on the borderland. It was so simple. His lids closed, and it was done. He slept soundly, too, for when I stroked the feathers of one, he didn't wake, but, at the sound of the parents' wings, he awoke as suddenly as he dropped asleep. I have watched a good many bird families, but I never saw the work divided as it seemed to be in the grosbeak household. The first day I stayed about tb nest, I noticed that the father was feeding the children almost entirely, and when- ever he brought a mouthful, he hardly knew which one to feed first. The mother fed about once an hour, while he fed every ten or fifteen minutes. This seemed rather contrary to my understanding of bird ways. Generally the made is wilder than his wife, and she has to take the responsibility of the home. The next day I watched at the nest, conditions were about the same, but I was surprised to see that parental duties were just reversed. The mother was going and comin;' continually with food, while the father sat about in the tree-tops, sang and preened his feathers leisurely, only taking the trouble to hunt up one mouthful for his bairns to every sixth or seventh the mother brought. To my surprise, tlir third day I found the father was the busy bird again. Out of eighteen plates exposed that day on the grosbeak family, I got only five snaps at the mother, and three of these were poor ones. The fourth day I watched, the mother seemed to have charge of the feeding again, but she spent most of her time trying to coax the bantlings to follow her ofl:' into the bushes. It was hardly the father's day for getting the meals, but. on the whole, he fed almost as much as the mother, otherwise the youngsters would not have received their daily allowance. The Lapland LongSpur (Calcanus lapponicus) By W. Leon Dawson Length: G3-4 inches. Range: Northern portions of the northern hemisphere, breeding far north; in America south in winter to the northern United States, abundantly in the interior, to Kansas and Colorado, irregularly to the Middle States. 438 BLACK-HEADED GROSBEAK. (Habia melanocephala). Li'e-&:2e CO'THIgHT l»03, BV A. w. uuuroRD, rHIGlug, Only now and then does one come upon a company of these hardy Lap- landers, for their principal winter range is further west. They are to be found industriously gleaning fallen weed-seed from the ground, pastures, stubble fields, and waste places, or moving about in rather compact flocks through the air. Not infrequently small numbers of them join a winter band of horned larks at table in some choice feeding lot for cattle. At such times they move about freely among the other birds, but are readily distinguished from them by their black heads. If one would get the full effect of longspur's diagnostic mark, he should creep on hands and knees over a rolling stubble-field on a chilly April day. It will heighten the effect, not of the bird's color, but of the observer's boreal sensations, if a sullen sky be added, and little ])ellets of sleet be dropped here and there over the field. With eyes agog and glasses in readiness, you advance cautiously. There is nothing but clods and stubble in sight. You feel sure that there are birds all about you, for you saw them settle right there. At length, a long way oflF, a single anxious black head is descried as it is thrust up into view; but before you level on it, one, two, three, a dozen birds, are up and ofif, who were within a rod of you. But by and by (it may be only after days) the clods are differentiated, and some kindly resolve themselves into birds' heads, at close range. Even the stubble is gracious, and gradually discloses skulking females of obscure coloration, and who had only been known to you before as voices and things in the air. The chirruping rattle of this bird has. somehow, the power of calling out all the wild instinct of a man, the primitive, wind- forged, and untamable Norse core, which lies ill at ease beneath this thin veneer of spoon-fed civilization. It is like a rune from the elder Edda, challenging the unspoiled spirit to arise and do battle with the fiery flying drake. According to Mr. E. W. Nelson, who found this species breeding abundantly on the grassy flats near St. Michaels, Alaska, the birds arrive there early in May, while the groimd is still largely covered with snow, and by the middle of that month they are common. "The males, as if conscious of their handsome plum- age, choose the tops of the only breaks in the monotonous level, which are small,, rounded knolls and tussocks. The male utters its song as it flies upward from one of these knolls, and when it reaches the height of ten or fifteen yards, it extends the points of its wings upwards, forming a large V-shaped figure, and floats gently to the ground, uttering as it slowly sinks, its liquid tones which fall in twinkling succession upon the ear, and are, perhaps, the sweetest notes that one hears during the entire springtime of these regions. It is an exquisite jingling melody, having much less power than that of the bobolink, but with the same general character, and, though shorter, it has even more melody than the song of that well-known bird. The nests are placed on the drier portions of the flats ; a hummock or tuft of grass is chosen, or perhaps a projecting bunch of dwarf willow stems, and, as one comes directly upon it, the female usually flutters off under one's feet." 439 Shall We Save the Quail from Extermination? R. W. Shufeldt Recently, a number of our periodicals have published the suggestion that our quails be placed on the song-bird list, to be protected in the same manner as the latter by federal laws enacted for the purpose. In my opinion, this is an admirable, not to say highly necessary proposition ; and you may take my word for it that, unless this is done, and done within the next few years, all of our species of quails will be reduced to the very verge of extinction and in due course entirely exterminated. Now we may look for the sportsmen and hunters of the country to make a vigorous protest against any such legislation being put into effect ; they will probably rise to a man and attempt to prove that the present state and federal laws, enacted for the protection of our game-birds, are so framed that through their operation quails are not only not being reduced in numbers all over the country, but that they are actually upon the increase. I have been a hunter of quails and a student of ornithology for over half a century ; not in any casual way either, but seriously, continuously, and always with a definite purpose in view. Those who know me best will be the last to say that I would support such an act as is proposed above, unless I was abso- lutely certain that the necessity for it had been more than amply demonstrated. Moreover, I would be the last to wish to deprive the sportsmen of the country of the pleasure they have in shooting quails every season, and the hundreds of others who trap them all the year round! Not only are our beautiful bob-whites of the eastern half of the country being reduced steadily in numbers every year, but the ten species and sub-species of the western forms are being practically exterminated with marked and certain rapidity. Our bob-white is one of the grandest little birds that exists in our entire avifauna, and the various forms of quails or partridges, which are found in the Pacific tier of States and elsewhere in the West, stand among the most beautiful species that we have of the feathered world. I have had these birds alive on many occasions, and I have photographed from life not only specimens of our bob-whites, but also several species of the western forms, as the plumed quail (O. p. plumifera) ; the chestnut-bellied scaled quail (C. J. castanogastris) ; the California quail (L. c. calif ornica), and others. Two of my photographs selected from this list are here reproduced as illustrations, one being of the Texan bob-white and the other of the California quail. They were taken the size of life, and are faithful representations of these most beautiful birds. To return, however, to the matter of the gradual destruction of our quails, before I touch upon the value of these birds to the American farmer and to agriculturists generally, I would like to point to the time when, three-quarters of a century ago. this system of extermination conunenced. Speaking of the eastern bob-white, Wilson, writing in the early part of last century, tells us that "They remain 440 r o z o with us the whole year, and often suffer extremely by long, hard winters and deep snows. At such times, the arts of man combine with the inclemency of the season for their destruction. To the ravages of the gim are added others of a more insidious kind; traps are placed on almost every plantation, in such places as they are known to frequent. These are formed of lath, or thinly-split sticks, somewhat in the shape of an obtuse cone, laced together with cord, having a small hole at top, with a sliding lid, to take out the game by. This is supported by the common figure 4 trigger ; and grain is scattered below and leading to the place. By this contrivance, ten or fifteen have sometimes been taken at a time." These traps are still in use in many parts of the South, while still more in- genious ones are employed throughout all the northern states. Simply enormous numbers of our quail are thus annually destroyed — in some sections utterly ex- terminated. So common were these birds in Wilson's time, that they brought only from twelve to eighteen cents apiece in the Philadelphia markets. There is another thing to be considered, however ; the guns used in these days by sportsmen in hunting quail are far more certain and fatal than the old flint-lock, muzzle-loading ones used to be in the days of Wilson and Audubon. A few days ago I was in the Center Market of Washington, D. C, and there I saw boxes of the birds — 150 in a box — for sale, while one man had three flour- barrels full of them ! This sort of thing cannot go on forever without extermina- tion being the sure and final result. But now listen to Audubon's account, and note how they destroyed the bob- whites in his day (1832). "These birds," he says, "are easily caught in snares, common dead-falls, traps and pens, like those for the wild turkey, but propor- tionate to the size of the bird. Many are shot, but the principal havoc is effected by means of nets, especially in the western and southern states." Then he gives another account of how "a number of persons on horseback, provided with a net, set out in search of partridges, riding along the fences or briar-thickets, which the birds are known to frequent." It will not be necessary to quote the rest of his story in extenso, for it is too long for my present purpose; but I may say, in support of the fact that the quails are not nearly so numerous now as in his day, that he closes the tale with the following words : "In this manner, fifteen or twenty partridges are caught at one driving, and sometimes many hundreds in the course of a day. Most netters give liberty to a pair out of each flock, that the breed may be continued." Mind you, one pair out of each flock — where they captured "many hundreds" in a day ! The chances of "continuing the breed" by any such magnanimous procedure would have about as much effect as would _the sticking up of little placards in the fields and thickets by the sportsmen for the quails to read, begging them to lay double the number of eggs to the setting, and to raise at least six or seven broods to the season ! Perhaps the most glaring example of the rapid extermination of several of 441 our most beautiful as well as useful birds of this family is now s;'>'"g o" ■» California and in other western States where these species are found. As I pointed out above, we have a number of species of these partridges in the aforesaid region, and I very well remember the accounts of their immense covies, which explorers and naturalists brought back in their journals during the early 60's. Mr. James Jenkins, who was my instructor in taxidermy in 1866 and on, had collected a beau- tiful series of the plumed partridge in California : he told me that he had seen over a thousand of them in a single flock, and that they were extremely abundant in certain ])arts of that state. The Eskimo Curlew {Numenius borealis) By W. Leon Dawson Length 12 to l-i;<2 inches. Range: Breeds on the Ijarren grounds of northern Mackenzie: winters in Argentina and Patagonia. The Eskimo curlew is an interesting example of the rapidity with which a game bird, apparently numerous enough to defy fate, may be suddenly swept off the face of the earth. Forty years ago, and even less, as many witnesses besides myself can testify, Eskimo curlews might often be found in the markets of Boston, New York, and other large eastern cities, and apparently no one then had a sus- picion that the species was nearing its end. Audubon, speaking of his experience in Labrador in 1833, likened the numbers of this curlew to the flocks of passenger pigeons, and as late as 1860 Packard noted a flock in Labrador which was perha])s a mile long and nearly as broad. Not many years ago the fishermen of Labrador and Newfoundland were salting them down by the barrelful for winter's con- sumption. Because of its uncommon fatness and the excellence of its meat, it was generally know in New England as the "dough bird." No doubt these qual- ities were the chief cause of the curlew's extinction. Thus the very qualities that should have insured the perpetuation of the species for the benefit of pos- terity led to its destruction by our improvident selves. The bird is spoken of here as extinct since, to all intents and purposes, it is so, although a few probably still survive. The lesson to be drawn from the destruction of the curlew and the pas- senger pigeon is that in the case of any given game bird we cannot tell exactly when the danger line is crossed and the safety of the species begins to be threat- ened. The untimely end of the curlew and pigeon shows that it is the part of wisdom to apply the brakes before the bottom of the hill is reached — in other words, to adopt effective preventive measures before it is too late. Greater abundance atones for the smaller size of this curlew in regions 442 538 ESKIMO CURLEW. Numenius borealis). About ^ Life-size. COPTRIGMT MUMFOHD, CMFCAQO where it is regularly found at all. It moves up the Mississippi Valley in immense flocks, deploying over the prairies, and keeping company with such birds as the Bartramian sandpiper and the golden plover. When feeding in extensive com- panies the birds keep up a conversational chattering, which Coues likens to that of a flock of blackbirds. In Labrador, where these curlews have been most closely studied, they are found to feed largely upon the cow berry (Empctrum nigram), so greedily, in fact that their plumage often becomes stained with its purple juice. Upon this fare, together with a generous allowance of sea food in the shape of snails, the birds become excessively fat, and are in prime condition for the unreluctant gunner in August or early September. April Rain O the dashing, April rain Making crystal-clear the pane Of the window in my lilac-scented room! The quick flashing of bird-wings And the freshened glow of things Cause my soul to rise in triumph o'er the gloom. — Millie Noel Long. The English Sparrow By Saidee Gerard RuthraufF Aly eyes are filed with star-dust and the wonder of the Spring, And they see the plain brown sparrow as a shining, glorious thing ! O, I know he's dull of color, and I know he doesn't sing; Yet the Love that clothes the sunset put the color on his wing, And the Mind that thought the star-dust and the wonder of the Spring Put Himself into the sparrow, for He lives in everything, And He must have had a reason why the sparrow doesn't sing, And He must have had a reason when He made him plain of wing ! 443 Comedy and Tragedy in Bird Life By Edward B. Clark In the bird's year the season of song is the season of tragedy. The wonder is that during the nest-building time birds have the heart to sing at all. Danger is ever present, and it is probably not an exaggeration to say that disaster attends at least one-half of the attempts of the songsters to rear their young. There are so many casualties among the bird homes that the nesting season holds for the field student rather more of pain than of pleasure. It has struck me many times that the birds must feel that the whole world is against them when they are trying so patiently and so bravely to see that their kind does not perish from the earth. From the moment that the first egg appears the shadow of danger is across the threshold of the little home. There are the perils of wind and flood, of egg-loving snakes, and of egg-collecting boys. A little later, when the young appear, there is danger from prowling cats and looting owls, and from men nest- robbers, who pretend to think that the proper sphere of a wild bird lies within the limits of a cage. The books tell us that many species of birds build their nests near the habi- tations of men because of the protection that is afforded by such locations. The theory is, that owls, hawks, and snakes avoid the vicinity of civilization, and thus the nesting birds are relieved from the fear of depredations of these natural enemies. There is another side to the question, however. The minute that the bird places its home on the pillar of the porch, in the lilac bush of the garden, or in the maple at the doorstep, it invites destruction for itself and young at the claws of the family cat, a creature which, unfortunately, few households are without. The very openness of the nesting sites chosen makes of the eggs or of the young a temptation to the badly trained boy, who nine times out of ten finds himself unable to resist. As a deduction from observations that have extended through many nesting seasons, I don't hesitate to say that I think the part of wisdom belongs to the bird who builds in the wilds and gives man, cats and boys a wide berth. It is a curious thing that, .all things being apparently equal, some of the birds that nest in the haunts of men have much better success with their families than have others. The bluejay, one of the characteristic birds of the Middle West, is handicapped in his struggle for existence by his. brilliant plumage. Notwith- standing this, the jay abounds and will continue to abound unless his traits of character undergo a radical change. A jay, building in an evergreen on one side of a doorstep, will be rejoicing in five healthy offspring able to fly and to care for themselves, while the robin, building in the maple on the other side of the door- step, is bewailing the disappearance of its last fledgling into the mouth of a cat. Accidents to jays' nests are rare. It builds .as strong a structure as does the robin, and as a rule, Madame Jay insists that the young jays shall stay in the 444 nest until their wings are strong and full feathered. Robins have not the same excellent control over their babies. The young robin, like the young crow of the children's story, gets restless and wants to see the world at a time when the only journey it can make is a high and lofty tumble from the nest to the ground You may pick up a young robin, put it back in the nest, and you will be called upon within five minutes to repeat the operation. The distress of the old birds, when a youngster tumbles out, is pitiful. Possibly in the course of a few eons they may discover the secret of parental control. At one time I had under obser- vation five robins' nests and six jays' nests. Five of the jay broods were led forth into the world in safety, while disaster came to four of the robin house- holds. It is curious to note that the pair of robins that succeeded in raising a brood built the nest on a crossbeam between two pillars of a piazza which was frequented by many people all through the day. It was a cat neighborhood. The nest was so placed that Tom and Tabby could not get at it, though they watched it dailv from every vantage point. This pair of robins had more sense than most of the tribe. There were five robin children in the nest. When the time came for them to leave, the male robin took a perch just outside the nest and coaxed the two strongest of the fledgling birds to leave. They stood on the edge of the nest while the father took three or four short flights by way of example. Finally the two little ones launched out together, and with their father at their side they succeeded in making the first flight carry them a distance of fully forty yards. They plumped to the ground pretty hard, but in a minute they recovered, and their father soon urged them to another eft'ort, this time upward to the safe retreat of a heavy foliaged tree. The other three young ones remained in the nest twenty-four hours longer, and were then led forth by the mother. For two weeks the brood remained in the vicinity of the nest, the father caring constantly for the two that he had elected to take in charge, while the mother looked after the other three. I watched the birds constantly, and never saw either of the parents feed a youngster that was under the other's care. There was something strikingly manlike in the male bird's distribution of the labor. He gave his wife the three requiring the most attention and took for his own share the two lusty youngsters. One robin's nest which met with disaster was placed on the elbow of a rain- pipe which was supposed to carry the rain-water from the eaves of the Presby- terian Church at Highland Park. The chances are that robins never made a study of rain-water spouts. The experience of the ordinary householder is that water pours out of them at every place excepting where it is intended to pour out. The Presbyterian pipe was no exception to the general rule. When the robins' nest was well completed, "the rain descended and the floods came"; all the water from the eave-trough poured down the pipe to a point about a foot above the nest on the elbow, and then shot out through a hole and washed the little habi- tation with its burden of eggs to the ground below. We all know the poetical tale of the sparrow that built its nest in the spout. We know how the "bloomin' 445 rain-storm washed the blooniin' sj)arrow out." We also know that when the rain stopped the sparrow went up the spout again and there fixed its habitation, await- ing another flood. I can readily beheve this story of a sparrow. The robins who lost their home in the north-shore thunder-storm started to rebuild their nest on the same rain-pipe elbow before the pools in the street were thoroughly dry. Doubtless they felt that the shadow of the church made their home sacred from the attack of man, and they were willing for the safety thus secured to run the risk of more showers. Their second home was washed down within a week. They went elsewhere, and let it be hoped were spared from the dangers of both field and flood. Chipping sparrows, robins, catbirds, bluejays, and many of the other bird species which seek man's society do not resent a certain amount of prying into their household affairs. None of the birds named will think of deserting its home simply because you take a daily peep at the eggs or occasionally undertake to help the parent birds out in the matter of feeding the young. Confidence when once established is lasting. There are some birds, however, which occasionally build under the shadow of our walls who resent human curiosity and will desert their nests at the first appearance of supposed danger. The rose-breasted gros- beak frequently builds in the garden or in the trees that shadow the sidewalks. The rose-breast is a beauty. His life in the spring is one continuous song. As someone has put it, he wears a blush rose in his button-hole, and is the Beau Brummel of the birds. The rose-breasts build a flimsy nest. It has but little more stability than the nest of the mourning dove. They are as jealous, however, of the approach to the little home as though it had taken a lifetime in its rearing. When a pair of the birds build near the house they must not be allowed to know that the nesting site has been discovered. If they see a person looking at their home they will often desert instanter. A pair of robins built a nest in a tree directly in front of the residence of a bird-loving friend. One day he saw some school-boys trying to climb the tree to get at the robins' nest. He drove the boys away. A few days afterward he discovered that a rose-breasted grosbeak was building its nest in the tree not far above the home of the robin. Then the fear came that the boys would come back and ravage both nests. So the birds' friend took a hammer and drove a lot of wire nails into the trunk of the tree, thus pre- cluding the possibility of climbing it. "I may lose the tree," said the nail-driver, "but I hope to save the birds." He was hitting the last blow with the hammer when the grosbeak came with a straw in its mouth. It saw the man standing below, dropped its building material, and fled. It never came back. It is some- thing more than a pity that the birds cannot at first sight tell friend from foe. The robin sat on the nest all through the nail-driving without as much as fluttering a feather. In the spring of 1899 I found the nest of a vesper sparrow in a Highland Park field. The bird clung to its charge until I almost stepped on it. Then it left the nest and gave an acrobatic performance which, had its motive not been 446 known, would have been laughable. The bird was counterfeiting injury and an inabihty to fly in the endeavor to draw the supposed enemy from its treasure. This is a favorite trick of many members of the sparrow tribe, and that it is at times successful there isn't a doubt. The vesper sparrow that was performing for my benefit spread one of its wings out and dragged it along the ground as though it were broken. The little creature propelled itself with its other wing, which it beat violently against the grass blades. Finally, when it had reached a point about ten yards from the nest, it spread both wings to their fullest extent and skimmed the surface of the green pasture as though it were using a pair of sculls. Eventually it flew away to join its mate, who was scolding vociferouslv near at hand. So far from doing violence to the home of that devoted mother, I performed a service for her by removing from the nest the egg which a cow-bird had deposited there for the vesper sparrow to hatch. The hatching of this para- site egg with the hatching of those of the sparrow itself would have meant, doubtless, that the young cow-bird, by its superior size and great greed, would have received the major part of the food to the sacrifice of its foster brothers and sisters. One morning, when on my way to pay a visit to the vesper sparrow's nest, I stopped at the fence and looked across the field to the spot where I knew the little home was hidden in the grass. The field was pasture-land, and a cow was grazing within a few yards of the sparrow's nest. It drew dangerottsly near to the grass clump where the bird was brooding, and in another instant I saw the sparrow leave the nest and perform exactly the same series of gymnastics for the cow's benefit that it had a day or two before for mine. Whether this mother bird thought she cotild lure away from her home, through motives of curiositv, this terrific horned beast or not, I cannot say, but the efTort was made in apparent good faith. It is hard to be obliged to make a tragedy out of that into which comedy has so largely entered. Before the young vesper sparrows had been three days out of the shell one of the grazing cattle put an end to the little ones' lives with a misplaced step. Much more than a month later I saw a pair of vesper sparrows feeding four fledgling young in the same field. I believe that the plucky little mother, rising superior to disaster, had succeeded finally in raising a prom- ising family. No bird better typifies the wild life of the woods than the ruffed grouse, or partridge, as it is commonly called. Flushed from its forest retreat in the autumn, the whir of its wings through the falling leaves is like the whirling of a belted mill-wheel. The rush of its flight through the brush strikes a sort of terror to the novice sportsman who stands with gun in nervous hands, nor thinks of shooting till the bolt-like pace of the bird has put it well beyond danger. This is the ruft'ed grouse of the time of the ripened shellbark and of the blood-red sumac. Then the bird's every effort is for self-preservation. In the earlier year, almost before the pulsing fullness of the spring has passed, the bird that flees in the fall at the approach of the despoiler stays to dispute his right to intrude, and if necessary to give him battle. Others have told the story of the attack that the 447 female grouse will at times make upon the man who stumbles upon her brood in the heart of the woods. It has fallen to the lot of but few to witness the exhibi- tion that this wild bird gives of mother-love and courage. It was my fortune once to have an experience with a mother grouse who was caring for a brood of ten or twelve downy young in the depths of a ravine on the government reser- vation at Fort Sheridan. There are not many ruffed grouse left in the country along the lake. The birds have been shot by market hunters and others until the hearing of a log drumming in the spring is an ornithological epoch. I had been at target practice on the Fort Sheridan rifle range, and was on my way from the firing point to relieve a man behind the butts. To reach the objective point I was forced to go through dense underbrush to the bothom of a deep ravine. I was just about to jump the little brook which flows at the base of the shelving ravine bank when I heard a clucking and hissing noise. Before time was given to me to realize what living thing was present, there was a rushing sound, fol- lowed by the impact of a heavy body against my knee. It was a case for a minute of both mental and physical stagger. Recovering enough to look down, I saw two feet in front of me a hen grouse bridling, and with her feathers ruffled up until she looked as big as a bufif-cochin. At the same time I became dimly aware that some little creatures, not much bigger tliaii bumblebees, were scurrying for cover. In a second Dame Grouse returned to the attack. She made the onslaught like a game-cock. My knee was the objective point, and this she buffeted with her body and struck with her beak. I had a Springfield rifle in my hand, but of neither rifle nor man was that valiant mother afraid. Had she but known, it was admiration rather than resentment that was exicted by her attack. She prepared herself apparently for another assault, and then suddenly changing her mind, she went whirring away through the clustering trees. She had held the attention of the intruder until her little ones had time to secrete themselves under the fallen leaves. I hardly dared stir for fear of treading on one of the innocents. I picked my way carefully, and when I reached a point half-way up the ravine's side, I heard the mother grouse calling her chicks to the shelter of her ample wings. 448 Feathered Folk Are Worth Knowing By Frank Crane Do your know your bird neighbors? If not, why not get acquainted? It will repay you, not only in that delight which all knowledge gives, but in a wider sympathy with nature and her wondrous lives, in a cheering acquaintance with the shy brotherhood of winged things, in- a spiritual companionship with the little people of the air, who always symbolize to us hope, optimism and the brighter qualities of existence. To take your gun and kill the air neighbors is brutal, stupid — and you ought to be ashamed of it. Take a pair of opera glasses instead and do a little "watch- ful waiting" in a corner of the shrubbery. Learn to know the various uniforms of the aerial companies, the blue, gray, yellow and red ; the various tufts, tails and topknots, that are vastly more interesting than soldiers' regalia on the battlefield or women's hats on the Champs Elysees. Speaking of hats, is it not incredible that countless valuable insect eating birds, who are our greatest defense against the worms and bugs that destroy a billion dollars' worth of crops annually in the United States, are destroyed that their feathers may decorate woman's headgear? After you come to know your bird friends, take measures to provide for their comfort. Be a bird landlord. Put up houses for them. You will get an amazing rental in the spectacle of happy lives, not in money, but in cheeps and chirrups, glimpses of fluttering wings through the sunny air, and a knowledge that in many a cozy nest are little beings which, were it not for your charity, might be devoured by ferocious cats or frozen stitY or dead with hunger by the roadside. Martens will live, like human beings, in skyscrapers or apartment houses in miniature. Jenny \\'ren likes seclusion, away from prying neighbors; a single gourd or tomato can may do. and she has been known to bring up her little ones in a sprinkling can or a mail box. The log cabin made from a hollow limb is preferred by the flicker and nuthatch families. Robins and phcebes go in for open sleeping porches and bluebirds like roof gardens, whence they can easily fly out and in. "Turn the openings of the birdhouses away from the prevailing north winds." says an authority, "and don't forget to sheathe the posts or poles that support them with tin or galvanized iron to prevent cats from climbing up." If you want specifications for building birdhouses you can get them free by applying to the United States government at Washington. Help the little wanderers that are being destroyed by their natural enemies, the hunters ; though there's nothing said in holy writ about being rewarded for this in heaven, you may be sure that you will get your reward on earth each day by an added interest in life, by the pleasure of protecting "our little sisters, the birds," and at the same time doing real service for human beings. 449 The Cowbird {Molotknis ater) By Charles Bendire Length : 7^^ to 8 inches. Range: United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific, north into southern British America, south in winter into Mexico. The Cowbird ordinarily arrives in good-sized flocks in the Middle states, from its winter home in the south, during the last half of March. In the more northern states it rarel\- comes before the first week in April, and more frequently after the middle of this month. The males predominate in numbers over the more plainly colored females, and generally precede them by several days. Soon after arriving, these flocks commence to break up and scatter in small companies of from six to twelve individuals and disperse generally over the country. It prefers more or less cultivated disertics, especially river valleys, where other birds are abundant, and rarely pentrates far into heavily timbered sections or mountainous regions, excepting in Colorado, where it has been met with at altitudes up to 8,000 feet. The food of the Cowbird consists princijially of vegetable matter, such as seeds of dififerent kinds of noxious weeds, like ragweed, smartweed, foxtail, or pigeon grass, wild rice, and the smaller species of grains, berries of different kinds, as well as of grasshoppers, beetles, ticks, flies, and other insects. Taking its food alone into consideration, it does perhaps more good than harm. While the Cowbird is fairly common in most of the states east of the Mississippi river, it is far more noticeable in the regions west of this stream, although perhaps not much more abundant. In the prairie states this is especially the case, and one will rarely see a herd of cattle there without an attending flock of Cowbirds, who perch on their backs, searching for parasites, or follow them along the ground, hunting for suitable food. They generally act in con- cert ; when one settles on the ground the others follow shortly afterward, and if one starts to fly, the remainder take wing also. Their flight resembles that of the red-winged Blackbird. In the spring of the year several males may frequently be seen perched on some fence rail or the limb of a tree, each endeavoring to pour out his choicest song. This consists of various unreproducible guttural sounds, uttered while all the feathers are puffed out, the head lowered, and evidently produced only by considerable efi^ort on the part of the performer. One of their call notes sounds somewhat like sprcele, others resemble the various squeaks of the red- winged Blackbird, and all are difficult to reproduce on paper. It is a well-known fact that the Cowbird is a parasite, building no nest but inflicting its eggs usually on smaller liirds. leaving to them the labor and care of rearing its young. The laying season rarely begins before !Mav 15. anstor is there likely to be an occasional exception to this rule. It can readily be seen what an immense amount of harm a Cowbird causes in the economy of nature, granting that only a single one of its eggs is hatched in a season. A brood of insectivorous and useful birds is sacrificed for every Cowbird raised ; and the Cowbirds are certainly not diminishing in numbers. The eggshell of the Cowbird is com])act. granulated, moderately glossy and relatively strong. The ground color varies from an almost pure white to grayish white, and less often to jiale bluish or milky white, and this is usually covered over its entire surface with S]>ecks and blotches varying in color from chocolate to claret brown, tawny and cinnamon rufous. The Short-Billed Marsh Wren {Cutothoms steiiaris) By Lynds Jones Length : 4 to 4'/^ inches. Range : Eastern United States, north to southern New Hampshire, southern (Ontario, southern Michigan and southern Manitoba, and west to the Plains, winters in South Atlantic and Gulf States. Description. — Adult: .Above everywhere streaked or larred with blackish, ochraceous, and white ; a little clearer ochraceous on hind neck ; wings and tail heavily barred, the former only on exposed webs, a very faint, pale superciliary line ; below white, clear on throat and belly, washed with ochraceous-bui¥y on sides of neck, across breast, and on sides ; flanks and crissum darker ochraceous or tawny; bill short, dark brown above, pale below; culmen slightly decurved ; feet light brown. Recognition Marks. — Pygmy size ; heavy dorsal and coronal streaking in three shades distinctive ; unbarred below as compared with preceding species ; bill mvich shorter than that of the next species. Nest, near the ground, in a tussock of grass — a globe formed by bringing the live grass-blades together, and interweaving with vegetable fibres and dried 452 491 SHORT-BILLED MARSH WREN. Life-size. COPYRIGHT 1902, BY A, W, MUMFORD. CHICAGO grasses ; lined with j)lant-do\vn : entrance in side. Eygs, 6-8, pure white, unmarked — unique in this respect in the family. Av. size, 64 x .49 ( 16.3 x 12.5). It has never been the author's good fortune to meet with this Wren but once, and then during migrations, when close study was impossible. It is at best a rare visitor with us, and nothing has recently come to li.ght regarding its nesting in the state. Mr. Ernest E. Thompson says, "This is less a species of the deep water marshes than is the long-billed member of the genus, and often it will be found in places that are little more than damp meadows. It is remarkably mouse- like in habits and movements, and can be flushed only with extreme difficulty." Mr, B. T. Gault, of Glen Ellyn, 111., found this bird not uncommon in the grassy marshes near Sheffield. Ind., and describes the song as altogether dififerent from that of T. paliislris. "In the manner of delivery it forcibly reminds one of the song of the Dickcissel (St'i::a aiiicricaiia ) although, of course, it was not near as loud. They were cjuite shy but would allow one to approach within forty or fifty feet of them, when they would dart down into the thick grass, from which it was almost impossible to dislodge them. Tlie specimens that I secured were shot from small bushes on the edge of the marsh, these being the favorite stands occupied bv the male in song." According to Dr. Brewer, the nests of this species are constructed in the midst of tussocks of coarse, high grass, the tops of the blades being bent down and interwoven into a stout spherical ball, closed on every side save for one small aperture. The strong wirv grass of the tussock is also shot through and interlaced with finer materials brought in by the bird. The whole structure is almost impervious to rain ; and the inner nest is composed of grasses and fine sedges, lined with vegetable downs. The Cardinal By Elizabeth E. Elliott Catbirds we love with their mocking note. Albatross, breasting the stormy sea, Robin Redbrest, bold, with his crimson throat, Doves, that nest in the southern pine tree. Indigo Bird of Heavenly hue, Nighthawks, whose humming we plainly hear, Acad'an Flycatcher of yellowish hue. Linnet and Lark we alway hold dear. But of all our birds of feathered fame, The Cardinal, brave in coat of flame. Most holds our hearts in Love's enthrall. From earl'est spring to latest fall. 453 Our Grosbeaks and Their Value to Agriculture By W. L. McKee Seven kiiifis of finches, commonly known as grosbeaks, summer within our boundaries. The majority of these are good friends of the farmer and deserve to be widely known in order that their services may be appreciated. The gros- beaks are easily distinguished from other finches by their stout form, bright plumage, massive bills, and melodious voices. Two of them live mainly in cold or mountainous areas, and, haAing little to do with farms or with the insects that prey on crops, may be dismissed without further notice. The other five live largely in agricultural regions and secure most of their food about cultivated lands. .Ml of them feed to some extent upon crops, but only one does appreciable harm. (Jn the other hand, all perform in\aluable service in destroying certain of our worst insect pests. It is the purpose of this bulletin to make known the exact nature of the services rendered by grosbeaks, to suggest means of reducing or preventing such damage as they do. and to propose methods of protecting them. The rosebreast has an extensive range, breeding from Kansas and the moun- tains of Tennessee north to Newfoundland and the Great Slave Lake region. It eats some green peas, and is charged with injuring orchards, both by budding and by eating the fruit. Our investigations lend no support to the latter accusation, and, although the birds eat peas, they invariably consume enough injurious insects to more than ofifset the damage. The rosebreast has long been held in high esteem because of its habit of preying upon the Colorado potato beetle, and the name potato-bug bird suggests its important services in this direction. Larvae, as well as adult beetles, are con- sumed, and a great many are fed to nestlings. No less than a tenth of the total food of the rosebreasts examined consists of potato beetles — evidence that the bird is one of the most important enemies of the pest. Its services in devouring other exceedingly harmful insects are scarcely less valuable. It vigorously attacks cucumber beetles and manj' of the scale insects. It proved an active enemy of the Rocky Moimtain locust during that insect's ruinous invasions, and among the other pests it consumes are the spring and fall cankerworms, orchard and forest tent caterpillars, tussock, gipsy, and brown-tail moths, plum curculio, army worm, and chinch bug. In fact, not one (jf our birds has a better record. The rose- breast attacks the worst enemies of agriculture, making them its favorite prey, and time after time it has rendered valuable aid in checking their destructive infestations. Cardinals range from southern jMexico. Lower California, and .\rizona, north to Iowa and Ontario, and ea.st to the .Atlantic coast. They are permanent residents, spending the summer and winter in the same locality. It has been 454 claimed that the\- pull sprouting grain, but no evidence of damage to either grain or other crops is afforded by the examination of more than 500 stomachs. On the other hand, the evidence is ample that they do much good. The redbird is known to feed on the Rocky Mountain locust, periodical cicada, and Colorado potato beetle. It is a great enemy also to the rose chafer, cotton worm, plum or cherry scale, and other scale insects, and attacks many other important insect pests, including the zebra caterpillar of the cabbage, the cucumber beetles, bill- bugs, locust flea-beetle, corn-ear worm, cotton cutworm, southern figeater, codling moth, and boll weevil. In addition, it consumes a great many seeds of injurious weeds. Thus its food habits entitle the bird to our esteem, as its brilliant coat and spirited song compel our admiration. The black-headed grosbeak ranges from southern Mexico to British Colum- bia. North Dakota, and Nebraska. It fills the same place in the West that the rosebreast does in the East, and economically is fully as important. In parts of its range it is destructive to early fruit and attacks also green peas and beans. However, since bv proper precautions such losses may lie minimized or altogether prevented, they should not be given too much weight in estimating the value of the bird. Instead of being regarded as an enemy by western orchardists, the blackhead should be esteemed as a friend, since it is a foe to the worst pests of horticulture — the scale insects — which compose a fourth of its food. The black olive scale alone constitutes a fifth of the bird's subsistence, and the frosted scale and apricot scale, or European fruit Lecanium, also are destroyed. In May con- siderable numbers of cankerworms and codling moths are eaten, and almost a sixth of the bird's seasonal food consists of flower beetles, which do incalculable damage to cultivated flowers and to ripe fruit. For each quart of fruit consumea by the black-headed grosbeak it destroys in actual bulk more than one and a half quarts of black olive scales, one quart of flower beetles, besides a generous quan- tity of codling moth pupae and cankerworms. So eft'ectively does it fight these pests that the necessity for its preservation is obvious, while most of its injury to fruit is preventable. This small but beautiful bird, breeds over the southern two-thirds of the United States. It is rather rare in the northeastern part of this range, but is common locally in the southern and western parts. Blue grosbeaks do no damage during the nesting period, and. in fact, are of great value to any farm they choose for a home, since they eat large numbers of injurious insects and feed their young exclusively upon them. In certain localities, however, after the breeding season, blue grosbeaks collect in flocks, move into grainfields, partictilarly those of oats and rice, and sometimes do considerable harm. Despite such depredations, the loss of cereals is repaid many fold, since the birds consume almost five times as much insect food as grain. Moreover some of the insects they devour are espe- cially destructive, such as weevils. More than a fourth of the seasonal food is composed of grasshoppers, including the lesser migratory locust. A tenth of the subsistence is made up of purslane caterpillars and cotton cutworms, enemies of 455 sugar beets and cottun. Because of its effective warfare on these pests, the bhie grosbeak is an efficient ally of the farmer and deserves to be protected. This handsome grosbeak enters the United States only in Texas. Arizona, and New Mexico, and comes in contact with cultivated crops less than the four related species. Like the blue grosbeak it is more fond of caterpillars and grass- hoppers than of other insects. Weevils are next in order of preference. The parrotbill ranges over much of the cotton belt of Texas and feeds upon two im- portant cotton pests, one of which — the boll weevil — is one of our most destruc- tive insects. Cotton worms also are highly relished, as many as 18 having been found in a single stomach. In August and September seven-tenths of the gray grosbeak's food is weed seed, five-tenths consisting exclusively of the seeds of two of the most important weeds of the South, namely, foxtail and bur grass. So far as known, the gray grosbeak eats practically no beneficial insect and dam- ages no crop. This, in .addition to the fact that it feeds upon noxious weed and insect pests, entitles it to complete protection. Three of the grosbeaks, the rose-breasted, bl.ick-headed. and the cardinal, are charged with pulling more or less seed grain. This fault, however, is not very serious, since it is well known that repellent mixtures applied to grain before sowing protect it completely. Although the fact is not so well known, grain so treated can be sown by machine, jirovided the following directions are observed : "Put one-fourth to one-half bushel of corn for other grain] in a half-barrel tub ; pour on a pailful of hot water or as much as is necessary to well cover the corn : dip a stick in gas tar and stir this briskly in the corn ; repeat until the corn is entirely black: pour off onto burlap (bran sacks are excellent) ; spread in the sun and stir two or three times during the day. If this work is done in the morn- ing and the day is sunny, the corn will be ready for the planter the next day without other care. The hot water softens the tar, so that only just enough will adhere to the corn, and the corn is completely glazed by the sun." Ethan Brooks, who recommends this method, considers it by far the quickest way of tarring corn, and states that for vears he li.'is jilanted with a machine corn treated in this way. In cases where grosbeaks or other small birds are the (.>nly ones that injure seed grain, it is probable that the above precaution may be safely omitted. Drilled grain, especially if j)lanted by a machine which packs soil over the seed, is safe from their attacks. If the birds simply nip off the leaf, no ]iarticular harm is done. Indeed in some cases the crop is benefited by the stooling this process stimulates. Standing grain may lie insured against the attacks of small l)irds by planting a few- rows of millet on the edges of the field. Millet is a prime favorite with all grain-eating birds and should be sown so as to ripen at the time the grain is exposed to damage. Grosbeaks sometimes steal corn from cribs, hut the remedy is obvious. A 456 lining of small-meshed wire netting, besides protecting the contents of the crib from birds, does greater service by keeping out mice and rats. The rose-breasted and black-headed grosbeaks eat peas, and the latter eats green beans also. Experience shows that a scarecrow suffices to ward oft the rosebreast, but the blackhead appears less easily intimidated. In localities where the birds are abundant bird netting used as a cover is eftective and is advised for small patches. Only one grosbeak, the black-headed, does noteworthy damage to fruit. \M:ere the trees are few, the use of bird netting is recommended. This method was devised and used successfully by Prof. J. Troop, of the Indiana E.xperiment Station, to protect cherries. The netting cost 4 cents per square yard, and 75 yards were reqtiired to cover trees 10 feet high. The expense of the netting, which is good for 10 years, was defrayed from the sale of the first season's fruit. This mthod is undoubtedly of great valtie for a small number of trees. In large orchards the best plan is to plant among the fruit trees or on the edges of the orchard a number of wild fruit trees as decoys. The best for the purpose are elder ( especiall}' in the West), mulberry, juneberry or serviceberry, and wild or seedling cherries. The Biological Survey is prepared to make specific recom- mendations for planting trees to protect fruit in any part of the country. Planting wild fruit is important for the purpose of attracting birds. Besides the fruits above mentioned, the following are valuable : Dogwoods, hollies, juni- per, bayberry, Virginia creeper, blueberries, blackberries, and wild grapes. Not all the thickets on a farm should be removed, since they serve to harbor birds, to protect them from enemies, and to furnish nesting sites. Where thickets are lacking, the growth of artificial ones should be encouraged, for they are very attractive to grosbeaks, particularly to the cardinal. A permanent drinking and bathing place on the farm and in the garden is to be numbered among the most potent attractions for birds, and with a little ingenu- ity one can be prepared in almost any locality. Winter feeding serves to attract the cardinal, which relishes corn, sunflower, and other seed, and takes kindly even to table scraps. If particular premises prove congenial as a winter home, the bird is likely to prefer them in summer. No eft'orts to attract grosbeaks will succeed, however, unless protection is assured. Grosbreaks are already protected by law in practically every State, but, since the machinery for the enforcement of the laws is often ineffective, statutory protection must be supplemented by individual action, particularly under trespass laws. Such action has long been taken in behalf of game birds, and the wise landholder will take equal precautions to preserve the smaller insectivorous spe- cies which he is so fortunate as to have as tenants. Shooting and nest robbing must, of course, be barred. Squirrels, when allowed to become too numerous, destroy many eggs and young. But in the settled districts the worst enemv of birds is the prowling cat. In certain islands, cats have completely exterminated 457 nian\ liinls. iiu-ludiiiL;' almost every kind nesliiii^ on or near the fjroutid. and everywhere they levy a heavy toll upon small insectivorous si)ecies. L'nquestion- ably, if the number of birds is to be materially increased, measures must be taken to dispose of roving cats. Grosbeaks are usually able to defend themselves and their nests against the English sparrow, but for the sake of other small birds the numbers of this foreign pest should be materially reduced. Present investigations prove that the services of grosbeaks in destroying insect pests are invaluable, liach kind pays special attention to certain pests which if unchecked would cause enormous losses. Few of our birds are to be credited with more good and with fewer evil deeds than the grosbeaks, and none more clearly deserve protection by the practical farmer. The Horned Grebe {Colymbnr anritns) By W. Leon Dawson Length: 12'/. to \? inches. Range: Northern hemisiihere; breeds from northern United States north- ward. Description. — Adidl in iiuf^tiaJ pliiiiun/c : Forehead and crown, with throat and sides of head around on nape, sooty black, deepening and becoming glossy posteriorly; area included by these patches (lores and sides of crown) buffy ochraceous, changing to rufous on lores and the short dense occipital crest ; neck in front and on sides and fore-breast rich cinnamon-rufous, shading on breast into the satiny white of belly; sides (well up under wing), and flank patches tinged with rufous and overlaid with some dusky; upper parts grayish black. becoming grayish brown on wings and varied by some edging of lighter grayish brown ; ])rimaries clear light brown ; secondaries mostly white, forming a quasi speculum: bill black with yellow on lower mandible and tip; feet dusky ex- ternally, internally mostly yellow. Adult in wiiitrr and iiinnaturc : Xo rufous anywhere; above uniform grayish black; below, including sides of head, pure white, sometimes tinged on neck and fore-breast with ashy brown ; sparingly dusky-shaded on sides ; bill with less black. Recognition Marks. — Teal size; breeding plumage with black ai:d red on head (especially red lores) distinctive for size; slender bill; the pure white of throat and sides of head contrasting with blackish above afifords the best field mark in winter. Nest, of half-submerged or floating vegetation, usually anchored to reeds growing in swamp water. Eggs, 2-7, elongated (jval, pale bluish white, but usually more or less discolored by nest. -Av. size, 1.75 x 1.18 (44.:^x30). It is the sixth day of October. .Six dainty Grebes are dancing before me on the gently ruffled surface of the water-works ])ond. I am within thirty 458 368 A.MKKICAX EARED GREBE. iColyiiibus nigticollis calif ornicus). 'i Life-size. iOPYHIGHT ISOij, feet of them and in plain sight, although my line of approach was concealed by the sloping parapet. The one desire of the visitors seems to be to sleep. They probably dropped down just before sunrise to rest after the long night passage from the Georgian Bay. In sleeping they draw the head back and settle it between the shoulders, thrusting the bill down precisely to the right. Now and then one lifts its head and describes a wary circle of reconnaisance, but is soon reassured and resumes its slumbers. While taking these cat naps in my presence thev swim and whirl automatically and maintain their general position, as though gifted with a double consciousness. There are five males in company with one female, and the white of their breasts and throats glistens purely in the morning sun. The bills are so small and slender that there is no possible danger at this range of confusing them with the commoner Pied-billed Grebe. At some distance and in the confusion of waving grass or tossing billow, a grebe may at times be mistaken for a duck, but the leaping dive which usually follows discovery or close approach, serves to distinguish it from most ducks. The way of the bird in the air, too, is quite unducklike, since it'thrusts its feet out behind at different angles, and moves with the directness of a fixing projectile. Upon land the Grebe is almost helpless, and only flounders about awkwardly and pitches forward upon its head. Concerning the breeding of the Horned Grebe in the state, we have no account except that left us by Dr. Langdon in 1880. During a stay of a week in the Port Clinton marshes, the doctor saw no birds ; but he came upon two sets of eggs of two each, which seemed referable, by elimination, to this species. He says : "These eggs are chalky-white with a faint, though definite, tinge of pale bluish-green, much like the tint of the Least Bittern's egg, and very unlike the pale whitey-brown of the eggs of P. podiceps observed by us. * * That our sets were probably full is indicated by the fact that one of them contained fulh' developed young, which si^'aut and even attempted to dire, on being placed in the water after remoxal from the egg. The nests were similar to those of P. podiecps described below, and the eggs were covered in like manner by decaying vegetation dtiring the day and left for the sun to incubate. "The young removed from the eggs presented slight but constant dift'erences in the head and neck markings, and the size of the bill as compared with the young of P. podiceps. obtained in the same manner — those supposed to be P. cprniitus being smaller, with more slender bills, less blotching about the head and neck and none in the median line of the throat.'' Name on color plate should be Horned Grebe. — A. W. AI. 459 The Cedar WaXWing {BombycUla cedrorum) By Edward Howard Forbush Length : 6yj to /j/S inches. Range: North America at large, from the Fur C'tnnitries southward. In winter from the northern l)or(ler oi United .*-^tates south to the West Indies and Costa Rico. .Among my earliest memories of hird life is one that st:inds out clearly to this day. A Cedar Waxwing had huilt her nest on the low hranch of an old apple tree at the edge of the orchard, and when I, a little eight-\ear-old boy, came and peered in, there she sat in fear :niring: Superciliary line and edge of wing near alula pale yellow (at a distance often not distinguishable from white) ; a huffy or w'hitish median crown line separating two broad, blackish stripes ; blackish (but poorly defined) maxillar\-, rictal, and post-ocular stripes — the last two usually meeting behind and enclosing the bufty auriculars : above, in general, brownish black, the feathers having black centers. Ijordered first by rufous or ochraceous bitfif, then ashy ; below, w'hite or sordid, the belly and crissum un- marked ; the chin and throat with tiny, and the breast with large, wedge-shaped spots of brownish-black (sometimes coalescing to form central blotch); sides and flanks heavily streaked with the same. At other seasons and in young birds, the yellow is more jironounced and the general pattern is somewhat obscured by a huffy or ochraceous suffusion. Recognition Marks. — Warbler size (but much more robust in appearance than a warbler ) ; general streaky appearance : the striation of the head, viewed from before, radiates in tw-elve alternating black and white (or yellowish) areas. Nest, on the ground, sunken flush with surface, lined indifferently with grasses. Eggs, 4-6, greenish- or bluish-white, heavily spotted, mottled, or washed with reddish brown or lilac. Av. size, .78 x .56 (19.8x14.2). Dr. Wheaton's sstatement : "Very common spring and fall migrant in southern and eastern, and ])r(>bably summer resident in northern Ohio," is somewhat puzzling and perhaps a little irritating to one who, having spent at least parts of eleven seasons in the field, has encountered only three isolated 464 539 SAVANNA SPARROW. (Ammodramus sandwichensis ?avanna) 1 T *"o_=;-7»^ COPTHIGHT 1903, BT A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO examples of the species in the state. The doctor probably depended greatly upon some favored haunt near Columbus not now known. I find upon inquiry that most available notebooks of the present day contain only scattering and meager references to this rather rare and irregular migrant. Mr. H. C. Ober- holser, in his "Birds of Wayne County" says of it: "A transient visitor; ap- parently rare, though in proper localities usually to be found in spring. Not observed in the fall. It arrived about the middle of April, the sixteenth of this month being the earliest date recorded." My two Columbus dates are April 24, 1902, and March 19, 1903, the latter being the earliest of which I have information, a typical example of that wonderful warm wave which amazed the oldest ornithological inhabitants. Prof. A. W. Butler, in his "Birds of Indiana," records it as a rare resident in the lower Wabash Valley and gives a few instances of its breeding in that state. The instance recorded by Dr. \\'heaton on the authority of ]\Ir. M. C. Benson of Gambler is the only positive breeding record of this state of which I am aware. The Savanna Sparrow is found during migrations along the bushy banks of streams, in weedy fields and bottom-land meadows, together with their interrupting fence-rows and hedges. In habits and appearance it most nearly resembles the Vesper Sparrow, but may be instantly distinguished by the con- spicuous way in which it "parts its hair." Like the other bird, it pitches sud- denly off its perch when disturbed and flies rapidly above the surface of the ground, following every inequality with bewildering precision. Its song is described as a "curious, squeaky affair," as inconspicuous as the bird. TWO LITTLE BIRDS By WILLIAM J. ACKER Two little birds perch in a tree And chirp their songs of honest glee, Filling the air with tuneful life Till e'en the fields with song are rife. All unawares the warblers sing While nearer creeps the dreaded thing: A mass of fur and four strong paws Where death lurks in the wily claws; In the baleful eyes a gleam of lust, And body poised for the murd'rous thrust. It pauses a moment, then — a spring, And one falls prey to the treach'rous thing. The other bird, with a startled cry. Then flies away to the woods near-by; And a hunter comes — a sudden flash. And the bird's breast shows a crimson splash. Now whose is the greater part of blame? Whose is the wanton act of shame? Who is it incurs the censor's ban. The thoughtless cat or the critic — man? 465 The King Rail (}<"ii'■■ Buffle-head {Charltouctta albeola) Range : Breeds from upper Yukon, lower ^Mackenzie. Great Slave Lake, and central Keewatin south to British Columbia, northern Montana, and central Ontario ; winters from Aleutian Islands, British Columbia, Idaho, Colorado, Missouri, southern Michigan, western New York, and New Brunswick south to northern Lower California, central Mexico and Florida. The common name of this little duck is strikingly suggestive of its appear- ance, for the head, with its white markings and fluffy feathers, seems too big for the diminutive neck and body. An equally suggestive name in fall, when it becomes very fat, is "butterball." Though by no means strictly confined to fresh water, the buffle-head prefers fresh water, and is more abundant on the larger lakes and ponds of the far West than in eastern waters. Wherever found, east or west, it is extremely friendly, and when the gunner puts out a flock of wooden decoys our little duck immediately responds to the invitation to alight and be sociable. Taking advantage of this amiable weakness — some might call it stupidity — the gunner has already greatly reduced the number of buffle-heads, and left scarcely a tithe of their former thousands. Very few ducks can dive more quickly at need than the bufHe-head, and in this respect it almost rivals the little grebe known as the "water-witch" or "hell diver." This skill as a diver is of great service to the duck in its search for food. It is adept at catching small fish and, perhaps, because of this and of other animal food, it.s flesh is not greatly esteemed. They Didn't Think Once there was a robin Lived outside the door, Who wanted to go inside And hop upon the floor. "Oh, no." said the mother, "You must stay with me; Little birds are safest Sitting in a tree." "I don't care," said Robin, And gave his tail a fling. "I don't think the old folks Know quite everything." Down he flew, and Kitty seized him. Before he'd time to blink. "Oh," he cried, "I'm sorry, But I didn't think." — Phoebe Car}'. 469 From Haunts of Coot and Hern By Edward B. Clark When the snow nieUs in .March, and the spring rains heat un the land, the hanks of the Kankakee River can no longer hold their hunien of waters. The fiood rises rapidly and spreads over the outlying meadows and woodlands. In Stark County, Indiana, the broadening river forms a considerable body of water known as English Lake. Summer comes before the flood recedes to leave great pools and morasses in its wake as reminders of its spring-time visit. In June these English Lake recd-grown stretches are "the haimts of coot and hern," of the redwings, the marsh wrens, and the rails. In the earlier spring great flocks of ducks, geese, and plover make a resting and feeding place of the reaches of sw^amp and open water. There is a world of bird-life throughout the whole English Lake section. Perha])s there better than any other place in the Middle West may be studied the habits of the water I)irds. A Chicago shooting club owns much of the marsh, and as all hunting is done under rules which have regard for the preservations of species, the birds still throng to the locality with the first touch of spring-time warmth or of autumn chill. In the third week of May, 1901, four weeks after the shooting season had closed, I tramped and rowed through the English Lake section with Ruthven Deane, the president of the Illinois Audubon Society. It is something to be familiar with many birds; it is something better to know them all. I learned much on that trip, both of l)ir(ls and of methods of obser\'ation. Mr. Deane is closer to Nature's heart than most men, and of him she seems to have made a confidant. We reached the English Lake club-house just at dusk, but all the bird voices were not hushed. While waiting the call to supper we strolled down to the banks of the little flooded inlet which makes a water highway for the rowboats from the house to the river. A vesper sparrow sang to us as we walked through the deepening darkness. From the damp thicket on the further side of the inlet came the voice of the Maryland yellow-throat. He was as insistent in his calling as is the custom with his tribe when once roused to vocal efifort, but even the yellow-throat's insistence gave way before the screams and scoldings of a pair of robins. I have heard robins raise disturbances before. They are often the common scolds of a bird neighborhood, but the performance of the pair that we heard that night rather outdid in volume of sound anything of which I had supposed the robin to be capable. It was too dark to investigate the cause of the trouble, and so the matter was put off until sunrise. The robins apparently wished to make it certain that we were impressed with their trouble, if trouble it were, for the last thing that we heard on closing the door of the dining-room behind us was a noise that was nothing less than a screech, and it came from both birds in unison. lust as the sun tmiched the treetops the next morning we were out of doors. 470 The song sparrow was attune, an orchard oriole piped to us from a maple at the doorstep, and a brown thrasher was singing somewhere in the wet thicket beyond the boat-houses. The robins were silent. I went directly to the scene of the dis- turbance of the night before, and soon found Master Robin perched on a fence post with a big, fat worm in his mouth. It is barely possible that he had worn his voice out the night before, or more likely, he was afraid he would drop the worm, else he would have scolded me and perhaps sworn a little. I fully ex- pected to find nothing less than a rifled robin household. The duet of the night before could hardly be accounted for on less tragic grounds. I soon discovered, however, that neither black-snake nor small boy robber had been about, for the robin, after looking me over for a minute, flew to a crotch low down in a maple across the inlet, and dividing his worm prize into bits, fed some concealed young. I went to the tree and climbing a few feet looked into the nest. There were four naked yotmg ones within. They were certainly not more than eight or ten hours old. It is my firm conviction that the racket that the father and mother birds made the night before was their method of rejoicing that unto them several chil- dren were born. The bird-lover's best time abroad is usually before breakfast. We walked that morning along the edge of the swamp and listened to the "fluting" of the redwings. In a little clump of trees, whose foliage was nearly full, we found the redstarts and the yellow warblers. There were other warblers in their company, but they gave us only a fleeting glimpse, and though we followed through the tangled thickets as they went from tree to tree, we had to give them u]) in despair. Warbler time is the time to try the bird-lover's soul. The elusive creatures invariably give the observer a crook in the back, and not infrequently give him a crook in the temper. A pair of doves flew by. We had heard their notes ever since we had left the house. There is something more than mournful in the dove's note. To me there is something that the children call "creepy" in the sound. Doves are abundant throughout the Middle Western country, but how long they will continue so is a question. Our wise legislators in many states have been putting these birds on the game list so that they may be shot and turned over to the cook. Before long the wise ones will be planning an open season for humming-birds and kinglets. The doves were out of sight, but hardly out of mind, when my companion caught sight of a male bluebird sitting on a stump about fortv vards away. The stump had holes in it, any one of which looked like an ideal place for a bluebird's nest. Presently the female bluebird appeared. She took a perch by the side of her husband. "In truth," we said, "the birds have a nest in the stump." Then we looked at them through our glasses and became more firmly convinced than ever that the nest was just below them, for the glass revealed the fact that Mrs. Bluebird had a fat grub in her bill. Soon, however, she left her perch and flew to a tree about twenty yards to our left. We said to ourselves, "Mrs. Bluebird saw us looking at the stump and so she has left it for another place in order to 471 distract attentiim trum licr Ikhiic." Then it was thai Father Hhtehird also (]iiitted the stump and took a statimi near his spouse. ]^>oih hirds were restless and apj)arentl\' anxious. They moved to another tree only a tew feet distant, evi- dently trying to make us forget all about the stump and the little homesteatl that it held. W'e were standing close to a small birch tree. My left hand was against' its tnnik while with my right I was using the field-glass. I took my eyes oft the hhieliinls a nmment and saw that there was a hole in the hirch-tree trinik within an inch of my thumb. I called my companion's attention to it. He laughed, and walking over, looked into the cavity. There, smtggling down into their straw- lined nest, were foin- young hluehirds almost fidly fledged and ap|)arently about ready for their first flight in life. When Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird saw that their liome was discovered, their trouble was great. The madame dropjjed the choice morsel intended for her young and called plaintixcly. We had no intention of harrying that birch-tree home. We backed away from it as quietly and as quicklv as we could, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs. Bluebird pay her famil\- a ^■isit. If she had not recovered the grub which she had intended as a bit of lireakfast for her offspring, she had found another ex- ceeding (|uick, for we saw her feed the balses before the bushes shut ofi our view- of the hole in the birch. (Jn our way back to breakfast we passed a pigsty. It was just like all other pigstves in the round world. There was plenty of wallowing room and plenty of mud for the porkers. The manager of the English Lake cluli-house had paid a visit to this pen early one morning, and there in the luud, in the very center of the circling pigs, was a cardinal grosbeak, singing his sweet notes to an audience that could do nothing but grunt its approval. Siu'ely this was a literal casting of pearls before swine. It was still early morning when we took a boat and jjoled our way tlown the grass-grown inlet toward the sw-eeping Kankakee. As we made our way labo- riouslv along the little waterway we flushed a solitary sandpiper that flew away reluctantly from a choice feeding-ground. Glancing back, I saw the bird return to the spot before we were a dozen yards away. A Baltimore oriole flew over our heads, carrying nesting material. I watched the bird to see where it was going to swing its cradle. It took to a treetop perch, however, and made no movement toward its nesting-place until we were well out of sight. It was Sunday, May 19th, and the river was still flowing with nearly even banks. We started down stream letting the current take us almost as it would. We passed a little rift, starting into flight a half-dozen "tip-ups" that circled the prow of our boat and made off ui-i the river. i)eeping complainingly. We reached a patch of timber with plenty of deadwood still standing, but leaning heavily toward the river. There we landed, for we lioped to find the prothonotary warblers building in the rotting stuni]is. We foinid the birds in all the beauty of their orange dress, but it thc\ hail decided on homestead sites they ke|it their secret well. 472 Walking up the river bank a little way to the edge of the towering timber. we found a man and two boys fishing. They had had no luck. It was too early, they said, and there was still too much water in the ri\'er. It was while talking to them that we saw a moving streak in the water. The ripple with its shining trail came nearer and nearer, and in a moment we saw that it was a snake with uplifted head, that was swimming for the bank at our feet. I have never liked snakes well enough to care to scrape acquaintance with them. I have never been able to take well to heart Dr. Abbott's teaching of the beauty and friendliness of the serpent tribe. The snake that was swimming the Kankakee that spring morning was surely four feet long, and it had a certain beauty of coloring that pleased the eye even while the mind loathed. The man of the fishing party said the snake visitor was a blue-racer and that it was "as pizen as a rattler." We doubted the truth of the latter assertion, but in the face of it we could not but admire the cool indifference of one of the small boy fishers, who sat dabbling his bare feet and legs in the water within a few inches of the place where the blue- racer was trying to land. The man made a jab at the snake with his fishing-pole and then struck at it with a club, but the reptile drew its slimy length safely out of sight among the spreading roots of a waterside tree. Snakes are like misfortunes, they never come singly. We had left the little fishing party only a few yards behind when we came within an ace of stepping on a chocolate-colored snake about three feet in length. It was a hideous-looking reptile. It was blunter and fatter at the head and about the body than any snake I had ever encountered in my rambles. From the plump part it tapered olT rapidly to a sharp-pointed tail. When Nature painted this creature she added a little dark ginger-root to the colors with which she had striped the hideous gila monster, and then had laid the pigment on thick. Neither of us waterside travelers that morning could give the snake a name, and though I have searched diligently since, I ha\e been unable to find in the books anything that looked like it. It is not a very far cry from the snake to one species of bird. The cow-bird is regarded by its feathered fellows in much the same light as human beings regard serpents. We hardly had banished the chocolate-colored crawler from our minds when we came across a cow-bird sneaking — there is no other word for it — its way down through the branches of a willow. It took only a moment to show the bird's object. A newly completed yellow warbler's nest, a perfect gem of bird architecture, was fastened in the crotch of some slender twigs of the willow, not more than four feet from the ground. The cow-bird was about to deposit an egg in the little down structure and to trust to the goodness of heart of the warbler to act as foster-mother. I threw a club at the cow-bird and frightened it away. About ten minutes afterwards I went to the willow tree once more, and there was the parasite again acting in the same sneaking way that it had at first. I frightened it away once more, but rebuffs of that kind count nothing with this bird. I haven't the faintest doubt that a visit to the vicinity 473 of the \v:irl)k'r"s nest later in the season would ha\e shown two little golil-hued birds trying- their best to keep well tilled the maw of a young cow-bird whose bulk was greater than that of ijoth foster-parents combined. The yellow warbler apparently knows tliat the cow-bird's egg has no right in its nest. At times the warbler will desert its home after the depositing of the alien egg. More often, however, the patient little creature will hatch out the egg that has been foisted upon it and will feed and tend the young cow-bird t(.i the sacrifice of its own oftspring. On tiie river hank not far from the home of the yellow warbler we found the half-comi>leted nest of a ])air of redstarts. We first saw the female with a bit of downy stuff in her bill. She paid little heed to us and by watching her movements we soon discovered her secret. The nest was a dainty little structure placed about fifteen feet from the ground, close to the trunk of a small tree, where it was held firmly in place by two slender, upward-growing twigs. 1 have spoken elsewhere of the abundance of the redstarts in the Kankakee \'alley. Both at Kouts and at English Lake I found them to be by far the most abiuidant birds of the warbler fainily. No one need regret their abundance, for they are useful in their lives and of a surjiassing beauty of plumage. When we had taken to our boat again and had diiftcd a mile with the current of the stream, we turned to the shore once more and drew our little craft up on a muddy bank that sejiarated the river from a great insweeping marsh, guarded on all sides by big native trees. We left the boat and plowed our way into the swamp. We caught a fleeting glimj^se of a Louisiana water-thrush as we left the river bank ; a catliird gave one strain of his melody that ended in a sharp "'mecni" as he discovered us. Two or three elusive sparrows dodged in and out of the thicket at the edge of the marsh. The endeavor to identify a sparrow under such circumstances is one of the trying things of life. I soon gave over all thought of the sparrows, however, for my companion, knowing every bird- haunt of this bird-favored country, was leading me straight to a feeding-ground of the great blue herons. The svvainp broadened out, the timber giving way to the right and left. Suddenly from the rank grass growth not more than thirty yards ahead of us there rose a great bird that flapped its huge wings, stretched out its great neck, and trailing its lanky legs behind, made straight for the sky- line at the treetops. Only a few yards beyond another heron, surprised at its breakfast table, left the well-furnished board reluctantly. One after another the herons rose before our advancing footsteps. I felt a little conscience stricken at having interrupted their feasting. \\'e retraced oiu- steps soon and before we reached our boats the herons doubtless were back at their repast of frogs, slugs, and delicate small fry, with which the marshes of the Kankakee River abound. I never before had seen a wild great blue heron at such short range. In first taking flight the bird is an awkward creature. It reminded me of nothing so much as of a man who is in a hurry to catch a car, but has to stop to gather up four or five bundles before starting to run. The heron's" bundles are its long 474 neck, head and beak, and its two lanky legs. It seems to lose a minute's time trying to dispose of the impedimenta properly before it spreads its wings for the start. We left the entrance to the heron's retreat and pulled our way up the river. Going against the current of the Kankakee means the mingling of some work with the day's play. The journey of ten minutes going down is a journey of twenty minutes going up. There are, however, plenty of bird excuses for stop- ping to rest. A small heron pitched on to an island in midstream, fully a hundred yards ahead of our boat. The island was grass-grown, but we succeeded in marking the spot of the bird's disappearance fairly accurateh'. We made up our minds that we would try to see how close we could approach before this wary bird of the bog should take flight. We kept in the open water until we reached a place abreast of where the heron had disappeared, then turning the prow of our boat toward the island, a few lusty strokes sent us ashore. The bird had gone into the grass not ten yards from the water. We searched the spot thoroughly with our glasses but saw nothing. I was about to jump out of the boat for the purpose of flushing the heron when my wiser friend told me if I jumped ofif into the mud I could never get out again. I was incredulous, but after I had poked an oar down into the black oozy stufif without meeting with the slightest resist- ance I concluded to stay in the boat. I had hardly pulled the oar out of the mud before the heron rose and made off for a tree top. It was a little green heron, called in many country sections "fly-up-the-creek." It is probable that had not the protective coloring of the bird been so perfect we could have readily picked it out from its surroundings as it stood in the lush grasses of the island. When the heron reached the tree toward which it flew, it took perch on a dead limb and there silhouetted against the sky made a perfect ]3icture. We left the green heron staring at the sky and once more pulled hard against the stream. Our destination now was English Lake proper, which opens out to the right and left of the railroad bridge. Beneath this structure the contracted Kankakee sweeps swiftly. By the time of the year of our visit, well into the month of May, the lake was a lake in name only, though the land in many places was still under water. About half a mile above the bridge we saw ahead of us on the open water a great flock of ducks. Our glasses told us beyond much doubt that the birds were blue-bills, more scientifically known, perhaps, as scaup ducks. We pulled directly toward the flock. What follows shows how quickly wild birds gain confidence after the shooting season closes. We reached a point well within gunshot of the blue-bills before they paid any attention to us. We had no advantage of cover whatsoever. A month before these same birds would have been up and oft' while tlie boat even to their keen vision had been but a black dot upon the water. \\'e drew closer. One of the ducks rose and in another instant the whole air was awhir with their wings. I was kneeling on the forward seat of the boat looking ahead through my glasses at the blue-bills. Suddenly I heard the squawk of a duck within four feet of me. I turned in 475 amazement and found that the duck's cry, so true to nature, was coming from between the lips of my companion. He was calling the blue-bills. The birds heard that counterfeit call, and deceived completely, circled and swept by within a few yards of our boat. Wary as the birds are, when once fooled they are fooled utterly, and too often to their sorrow in the shooting season. On a mud bank beyond the reach of water where the blue-bills had been ])addling we saw some birds flying and moving about on the ground by turns. We succeeded in getting close enough to say good morning to them all. They were plover, known by the somewiiat inelegant name of lesser yellow-legs. These birds, much sought after by s])ortsmen, seemed like the blue-bills to know that the shooting season was over, and that on this game preserve at least no one was to harm them. Near the yellow-legs we found solitary, spotted, and red-backed sand-pipers, and the ring-necked plover. The birds were all as tame as chickens. We went ashore at a place where there seemed to be some certainty of a firm foundation for our footsteps and started on a hunt for marsh-wrens. \\'e found none, but we flushed a few jacksnipe and took it for granted from the fact of their late tarrying that they were to nest in the English Lake country. The snipe, the plover, the sandpipers, in fact all the shore birds and the deep-water birds with them, form one of the most interesting groups for the purposes of study. The birds are too little known to the student who is not likewise a sportsman. Most of them are with us only during the shooting season, when approach is difficult. Then again, the very nature of their haunts presents an obstacle to familiar knowledge. It is hard work to scrape acquaintance with them. Their friendship, if it is to be won, must l)e had at tlie expense of much mud, some wailing and not a few duckings. Tree Swallow {Indoprocne bicolor) Length, about 6 inches. The steel blue U|)per parts and pure white under parts are distinguishing characteristics. Range : Breeds from northwestern Alaska and northern Canada south to southern California, Colorado. Kansas. Missouri and \'irginia ; winters in central California, southern Texas and Gulf states and south to Guatemala. Tn its primitive state the tree swallow used to nest in hollow trees, and in some parts of the country it still continues to do so. Early in the settlement of the country it saw the advantage of putting itself under man's jirotection, and now no bird is quicker to respond to an invitation to nest in a box dedicated to its use. The bird lover within the range of the species may secure an interesting tenant or two by the expenditure of a little trouble and labor, since the bird is not a bit fastidious as to its domicile, providing it is weather tight. Tree swallows arrive from the south earl\- in .\pril and soon begin to nest. In the fall they gather in great flocks preparatory to their departure, and may then be seen by 476 hundreds perched on telegraph wires. .As is the habit with swallows generally, tree swallows migrate by day feeding as they go, and a flock passing swiftly south presents to the casual observer an every day appearance well calculated to deceive. Watch the flock as it crosses the road and passes from field to field and you will notice that while the line of flight has many a twist and turn it trends steadily to the south and that no individual takes the back track. The tree swallow consumes vast numbers of gnats, flying ants, beetles, mos- quitoes and other flying insects. It exhibits a rather curiOus departure from the traditions of its kind in that it appears to be very fond of the berries of the bay- berrv or wax. myrtle. It also often chooses these bushes for a roosting place at night. Canvas-Back (Marlla valisluen'a) Range : Breeds from central British Columbia, Fort Yukon, Great Slave Lake, and southwestern Keewatin south to Oregon, northern Nevada, Nebraska, and southern ^Minnesota ; winters from southern British Columbia, Nevada, Colo- rado, Illinois, Pennsylvania, and western New York south to central Mexico (Jalisco) and the Gulf coast. The canvas-back, perhaps the most famous of American waterfowl, has pur- chased its fame at a price. So highly is it prized by the ei)icure that today he who can afford to dme on canvas-back sets the mark of luxurious living. Not that the canvas-back differs essentially from other ducks, but its exceptional flavor is due to the fact that its favorite food is "wild celery,'" a long ribbon-like grass which grows in shallow ponds and estuaries. As the plant roots several feet under the surface, only the diving ducks can secure it and the plebeian kinds have to be content with such floating fragments as they can pick tip or can steal from their more aristocratic relatives. In Oregon and Washington the canvas- back lives much upon wapato, a bulblike root formerly a staple article of food among many Indian tribes, and their e.xceptional flavor is said to be little, if any, inferior to that of the celery- fed canvas-back of the East. Elsewhere the flesh of the canvas-back is in nowise superior to that of other ducks, and in some localities on the west coast, indeed, is inedible because of its rank smell and taste. Thus prized alike by the sportsman and by the epicure, the ranks of the canvas-back have been depleted by the relentless pursuit to which it has been subjected. How- ever, the greater number of these ducks breed far to the north warrl, where they are safe, and under present laws their numbers should increase to something like their former abundance. 477 The Orange Crowned Warbler {Vermivora ceiata) By W. L. McAtee Length : About 5 inches. Range: Eastern North America, breeding as far north as the Yukon and Mackenzie Rivers and southward through the Rocky Mountains ; wintering in the South Atlantic and Gulf States and Mexico. Rare east of the Alleghenies, north of Virginia. Description. — Adult: Above ashy olive-green, clearing and brighter on the rump; crown with patch almost concealed, of orange-red (Saturn red) feathers; wings and tail fuscous with some olive edging; below greenish-yellow, dingy or vaguely streaked with olive on breast and sides. Immature: Without orange of crown; more ashy above; duller below; eye-ring whitish. Recognition Marks. — Small warbler size ; orange crown-patch is distinctive, but seldom seen in life; under parts duller and greener than last, not so white as next species ; no contrast between general color of head and back. Nesting. — Does not breed in Ohio. Nest, on the ground among clumps or bushes, of coarse strips of bark, grasses and plant-stems, lined with fur and hair. Eggs, 4-6, white or creamy-white, finely speckled with reddish brown, and with fainter markings of purplish slate (Kennicott). .-Xv. size. .64 x .40 (16.3x11.7). H. ceiata is one of the rarer migrant Warblers, of which comparatively little seems to be known. In its breeding haunts, which extend up to well within the Arctic Circle, it is found to be a bird of the undergrowth and open thickets ; but during its migration it is at least as likely to be seen in the tree-tops along with the stricter denizens of the woods. A few of us report seeing the species every year or so, and a conscientious shot even,' fourth year confirms the record. Dr. Wheaton once came upon a male in full song. He describes the notes as loud, emphatic, and rather monotonous, consisting of the syllables. chicky-tick, tick, tick, tick. Professor Lynds Jones renders the song, dice. chee. chec, chw, chw, and says that the first three syllables are rapidly uttered and the last two more slowly. To those people who reside in the temperate regions of the United States it is a very disappointing law of Nature that takes many of our beautiful and sweet tempered little birds into the far North for the purpose of raising their young. As a result of this natural law it is very difficult for students of bird- life to become acquainted with many of the warblers. Their habits and the characteristics of color and voice must be studied during the periods of northern and southern migrations. The study is rendered more difficult, as they remain but a few hours or a few days at the longest, while they are en route. Also, while hurrying along on their journey, they fre((nent only the foliage of bush 478 611 ORANGE-CROWNED WARBLER ( Helminthophila celata). Life-si/e. COPTfilGMT 190J, Br A. W. MUMfOHO, CHICAGO and tree, where, hidden from the gaze of the observer, they hunt during the day for their insect food. "Absent today, present tomorrow, the warblers come and go under cover of the night, and we may give a lifetime to their study and then know we have not mastered the laws which govern their movements." They are "at once the delight and the despair of field student." Visiting the woods some bright morning in May one may find the trees alive with the busy little warblers. Probably there will be several species ; some of them but few in number and rare, while other species will be more numerous in individuals. Here they will spend the day hunting in a happy go-lucky manner, and, though difficult to be seen, they will be betrayed by the simple note which pervades the woods. Dr. Ridgway has said : "No group of birds more deserves the epitliet of 'pretty' than the warblers; tanagers are splendid ; humming-birds are refulgent ; other kinds are brilliant, gaudy or magnificent, but warblers alone are pretty in the proper and full sense of that term." The Orange-crowned Warbler is one of those warblers which is quite erratic in its appearance in any given locality during its migrations ; some seasons it may be common and in other seasons its presence may not be noted at all. It breeds in the interior of British America, in the Rocky Mountain regions and as far northward as the Yukon district of Alaska. In its migrations it passes through the Mississippi Valley, being very rare in those states bordering the Atlantic Ocean north of Virginia. It winters in the South Atlantic and Gulf States and in Mexico, and is a common species in Florida dtiring this season. This little Warbler is constantly in motion dttring the daylight hours in the foliage of the higher tree branches. Seemingly to satisfy its tireless energy, it frequently stops its hunt for insects to utter its simple song. Mr. Ernest Thompson, in his "Birds of Manitoba," describes this song as sounding like chip-e, chip-e, chip-e, chip-e. chip-e, and says : "Its song is much like that of the chipping sparrow, but more musical and in a higher key." To Dr. Wheaton its refrain is a "loud, emphatic and rather monotonous song, resembling, as nearly as he can describe, the syllables, chicky-tick-tick-tick-tick ; this song was louder and more decidedly emphasized than that of any member of the genus with which he was acquainted." Colonel Goss hears in the song "a few sweet trills uttered in a spirited manner and abruptly ending in a rising scale." Its nest is usually built on the ground in clumps of bushes and quite hidden by dried leaves. The nest is large for the size of the bird, and is constructed with plant stems, strips of fibrous bark and dry grasses loosely woven together. Not infrequently also leaves are used in the construction of this outer wall. That the little birds may have a soft bed upon which to lie. the nest is well lined with fur and feathers where the "Blind nestlings, unafraid. Stretch up wide-mouthed to every shade By which their downy dream is stirred. Taking it for the mother bird." 479 More Birds .\ n'ood many people think they observe increased numbers in the tlocks of migrating birds. When comparison of this spring's phenomena is made with the necessarily imperfect recollection of what last spring's were like there is a disposition to accept evidence cautiously, but different observations come to the same conclusion and it seems to be supported by facts. In particular the large number of robins has been noted. In parts of the south the robin is a pet bird- It is fat and plunij) when it reaches the south and in the plentiful southern food supply it becomes fatter. Sentiment and law protect it in the north, but until congress passed the migratory bird act nothing protected it in the south. The act, although it has been taken to court, evidently has produced a noticeable effect even in song bird life. The effect upon the game birds undoubtedlv will be more striking if they can be protected against spring shooting. People who have been in the south this winter and took the trouble to see what the migratorv bird law was doing, found even in districts into which knowledge of a federal enactment would penetrate slowly, it was understood that there was some new sort of a law which had United States authority back of it. The conviction that it was unsafe to go against a federal law and face federal prosecution influenced men who would have shot any bird that could be cooked. The law is attacked because it keeps duck hunters from their spring shoot- ing. The fact that they are shooting game birds out of existence does not interest them. That can interest another generation. This selfishness is par- ticularly base, but generally it will influence enough iieople to cause embarrass- ment to protective legislation. Where people have been reached by the educational work undertaken by ])rotective organizations there is an increasing appreciation of the value of birds, and it is fairly well demonstrated already that the migratory bird law is increas- ing the bird numbers. -180 The Blue Jay By Susan Hartley Swett O Blue Jay up in the :\Iaple tree, Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee, How did you happen to be so blue? Did you steal a bit of the lake for your crest, And fasten blue violets into your vest? Tell me, I pray you,— tell me true ! Did you dip your wings in azure dye. When April began to paint the sky, That was pale with winter's stay? Or were you hatched from a bluebell bright, 'Neath the warm, gold breast of a sunbeam light. By the river one blue spring day ? Blue Jay up in the Maple tree, A-tossing your saucy head at me, With ne'er a word for my questioning. Pray, cease for a moment your "ting a link," And hear when I tell you what I think, — You bonniest bit of spring. 1 think when the fairies made the flowers. To grow in these mossy fields of ours, Periwinkles and violets rare. There was left of the spring's own color, blue. Plenty to fashion a flower whose hue Would be richer than all and fair. So, putting their wits together, they Made one great blossom so bright and gay. The lily beside it seemed blurred ; And, then, they said, "We will toss it in the air. So many blue blossoms grow everywhere ; Let this pretty one be a bird !" 481 The Belted Piping Plover (Aegiaiitismeioda) By W. Leon Dawson Description: Similar to l^iping Plover, Init black band complete on breast and cervix. Length : 6j.'2 to 7y2 inches. Range: "Mississippi Valley, breeding from northern Illinois, north to Lake Winnipeg; more or less frequent eastward to the Atlantic Coast." A fortunate discovery made late in the season of 1903 enables us to add this interesting bird to the Ohio state list. On the 26th of June, while Professor James H. Hine was doing the honors of the biological laboratory at Cedar Point, our party of three came upon a strange Plover, as he danced before the lapping waves on the neighboring shore. A hundred yards or so below we saw another, evidently of the same species, entertaining his mate with a flight song. He would circle round and round with quivering wings, describing curves a hundred feet or so in diameter, and whistling the while a prolonged soft note with a rising inflec- tion. Professor Jones was detailed on the case and soon came back reporting a nest of four eggs, — that shown in the accompanying illustration. He had con- cealed himself quietly in a clump of willows, and marked the female as she stole to her nest. The bird had settled once in the middle of the pathless sand, but upon some sudden misgiving had scampered away again without the astute ob- server's suspecting that she had visited her eggs. Upon her return, however, to the same spot, the truth became evident. It is not fair to say that the nesting site was unmarked, for what is easier to see than a piece of waif coal, after one's attention has been called to it? And as for the nest itself, what could be more charming than a mosaic of flattened pebbles and bits of broken shell, to say nothing of such neighbors as a fish-bone and a joint and a half of straw ? While we were examining the nest, the birds kept circling about uneasily at a safe distance, uttering low cries in questioning or querulous tones — quccp, in a variety of inflections, and a longer queeplo or queeplew. They had the habit also of scampering rapidly for a little ways and then pulling up short with a compen- sating bob and perk like the Killdeer. WHien squatted upon the ground with the lower whites obscured, the color of the Plover's back so perfectly matched that of the glowing sand as to render the bird almost invisible. All the birds seen on this occasion, to the number of four or five, were of the belted variety, and the identification was confirmed through specimens secured by Professor Hine on the following day. He also took another set of four eggs about two weeks later from a nest in a similar situation, but some four hundred yards north of the first discovered site. From the advanced stage of incubation he was sure that the eggs belonged to a different pair of birds. The question of the validity of the two forms of Piping Plovers is still open for discussion. The finding of this nest makes it certain that the breeding ranges of the alleged subspecies overlap considerably. 482 .■^^ Si iS tf* t t- ^ :;; t-^'-- '- E r 2 »►-' : tS-z V--"-- s r s o [v.. - r, ?^' l5Liii.v:^i Cliff Swallow {Petrochelidou hinifrons and sub-species) Length, about 6 inches. The rufous upper tail coverts serve to distinguish this swallow from other species. Range : Breeds from central Alaska and northern Canada south over the United States (except Florida) and to Guatemala; winters in South America. The cliff and barn swallow are members in good standing of the original guild of masons, and their clever constructive work in nest building with mud pellets will bear the severest professional inspection. Through much of the west the cliff swallow still attaches its mud house to the faces of cliffs as from time immemorial, and it was not until the farmers' house and barn offered a satisfac- tory substitute for granite and sandstone bluffs, that the bird became really- numerous in our eastern States. In some localities this swallow is not a welcome guest about the homestead as its nest is apt to contain parasites which the good housekeeper fears. Such parasites, however, are not to be dreaded as they will live only on birds. The cliff swallow performs invaluable service to man since its food consists wholly of insects, and among them are mang pestiferous kinds, such as leaf bugs, leaf-hoppers and the boll weevil. Whoever then protects this and other species of swallows and encourages their presence on their premises does good and patriotic service and can moreover be sure of adequate reward. Black Duck {Anas rubripes) Range : Breeds from central Keewatin and northern Ungava south to north- ern Wisconsin, northern Indiana, and southern Maryland ; winters from Nova Scotia south to southern Louisiana and Colorado; ranges west in migration to Nebraska and central Kansas. The black duck is essentially confined to the Eastern States, usually migrating no farther west than Kansas, and that rarely. It is a favorite object of pursuit by sportsmen, and in the struggle to maintain existence has learned its lesson so well that it is still comparatively numerous in localities where less wary species would long ago have been exterminated. Originally a diurnal-feeding species, like most ducks, persecution has taught the black duck to seek safety on the broad ocean during the hours of daylight, and to resort to inland ponds for the purpose of feeding only' after sunset. In order to protect this and other waterfowl one of the regulations under the Federal migratory bird law forbids shooting after sunset and before sunrise, and the enforcement of this regulation will probably do more for the preservation of the black duck than any other provision that could be devised. That protection for this species is sorely needed appears from the fact that throughout its range, except in a few localities, the black duck has of late years steadily diminished in numbers. The black duck is excellent eating, and as experiments prove that it can be reared in captivity it may be raised for the market or be freed for restocking suit- able localities. The Florida black duck is a closely allied species, with similar habits, and is resident in Florida and along the Gulf Coast. 483 The Osprey (PohHoh IiuHaetus caroUnensis) By C. Hart Merriam Synonym. — Fish Hawk. Description. — Adult male: Upper parts plain fuscous; tip of wing blackish; tail crossed by six or eight dusky bands ; head white, heavily but narrowly streaked with blackish ; an irregular dusky band proceeding backward from eye ; feathers of occiput loosely ruffled, or presenting a crested appearance ; under parts white, sometimes rufous-spotted on breast, but usually immaculate; lining of wing mot- tled — white and fuscous near edge, remainder white or buffy, dusky-barred dis- tally; bill and claws black; cere and base of bill bluish black; feet bluish gray; iris yellow and red. Adult female: Similar but breast heavily marked with yellowish brown or fuscous. Immature : Like adult, but feathers of upper parts bordered terminally with white or buffy. The same distinction obtains between the sexes as in case of adults. Length 21 :0O-25.0O (533.4-635) ; wing 17.00-20.50 (431.8-520.7); tail 7.00-10.00^(177.8-254.); culmen 1.20-1.40 (30.5-35.6). Recognition Marks. — Brant size; extensive white contrasting with fuscous, distinctive; labored flight; river- and lake-haunting ways. Nest, an immense mass of sticks, broad-topped, lined centrally with bark- strips and soft materials ; placed centrally on top of trees of various heights, or on isolated rocks of rivers, etc. Eggs, 2-4, dull or buiYy white, heavily spotted, blotched, or overspread with chocolate ; rarely almost or quite unmarked. Av. size, 2.45x1.81 (62.2x46.). Range. — North American from Hudson Bay and Alaska south to the West Indies and northern South America. Breeds throughout its North American range. Along the sea coast, up the large rivers, and wherever there are consid- erable bodies of water, the Fish Hawks are to be found more or less commonly according to the treatment which they have received at the hand of man. They are simple-hearted, honest folk, and deserve protection, if for no other reason, because they are fishermen. They are, however, cruelly persecuted in many sections of the country, and have been almost exterminated in this state ; but to my mind it is a mighty mean sportsman who will begrudge a poor bird the taking of a few fish by methods not less sportsmanlike than his own. The Osprey feeds exclusively upon fish and covers long stretches of water in its tireless search. It flies along at a height of fifty or a hundred feet above the water, and when its finny prey is sighted, pauses for a moment on hovering wings, then drops with a resounding splash, often quite disappearing beneath the water, but rising again quickly with a fish firmly secured in its talons. The bird upon rising immediately adjusts the catch, placing it head foremost so that it will offer the lea.st resistance to the air in flight. Not infrequently the Hawk secures a fish which it is barely able to handle, and occasionally it strikes one so large that it is drawn under and drowned before it can disengage its claws. 484 -V - 'v ■u ^<^'-''- 71 AMERICAN OSPREY. (Pandion haliaetus carolinesis). ^3 Life-size. HO, CHICAGO Besides providing for a hungry family at home, this hard-working bird is purveyor in ordinary to His Majesty, the Bald Eagle, and upon the sug- gestion of the latter bird meekly drops its catch only to see it eagerly snatched in midair by the lazy tyrant. Pitifully screaming he turns back to the weary chase, for he must not go home empty-handed. The nest, a huge aggregation of sticks and trash, is placed normally near the water's edge upon the cliiTs or upon rocks projecting in mid-stream or else high in a neighboring tree. Persecution, however, will drive it to the deep woods miles from its fishing grounds. A typical nest, found on the banks of the Columbia River, is placed twenty-five feet high in a stout pine tree. It is flat on top, three feet across, but seven feet in depth, the mass representing the successive accumulation of many years, perhaps of genera- tions. Within a little depression in the center, surrounded by soft materials, lie three handsome eggs, rich chocolate on a tinted ground. The female is on while her mate, tired of fishing, is standing by her side. Both rise at our approach and poise in midair above our heads, uttering feeble screams of pro- test as they suspect our oological purpose. A pair of Magpies have made their nest within the hospitable sides of this ancient pile, and these self-appointed camp followers add their voices to the general din. Eggs are deposited in May and incubation lasts three and four weeks. Unlike the Eagle, the Osprey. if robbed, will make another attempt the same season, but lays usually not more than two eggs the second time. Of the present breeding range of the Osprey it is difficult to form a just conclusion. No nests are known to me, nor have any been reported definitely within the state. A canoe trip of 150 miles down the Ohio River failed to discover any sign of occupation by these birds. It is pretty certain, however, that one or two pairs breed in the vicinity of the three large reservoirs, and it is very probable that they nest somewhere along the Lake Erie shore. 485 The Grosbeaks By Joseph Grinnell Have you ever heard of the sing-away bird, That sings where the run-away river Runs down with its rills from the bald-headed hills That stand in the sunshine and shiver? Oh, sing, sing away, sing away ! How the pines and the birches are stirred By the trill of the sing-away bird! And beneath the glad sun, every glad-hearted one Sets the world to the tune of its gladness; The swift rivers sing it, the wild breezes wing it. Till earth loses thought of her sadness. Oh, sing, sing away, sing away ! Oh, sing, happy soul, to joy's giver- — ■ Sing on, by Time's run-away river ! — Lucv Larcoiii. You would recognize it anywhere by its beak. And you may call this feature of the face a beak, or a nose, or a hand, or a pair of lips. In either case it is thick, heavy, prominent, the common characteristic of the grosbeaks. Individuals may differ in plumage, but always there is the thick, conical bill. "Oh, oh, what a big nose you've got!" and "Oh, oh, what a red nose it is!" we exclaimed, when we first met the cardinal face to face in a thicket. In a moment we had forgotten the shape and tint of the beak in the song that poured out of it. It was like forgetting the look of the big rocks between which gushes the waterfall in a mountain gorge. Not that the mouth of the grosbeak was built to accommodate its song, but, that being formed for other purposes, it nevertheless is a splendid flute. Whichever he may be, the cardinal or the black headed, or the blue or the rose breasted, the grosbeak is a splendid singer. On account of its gorgeous coloring, the cardinal is oftenest caged. But to those who love the wild birds best in their native freedom, the cardinal gros- beak imprisoned lacks the charm of manner which marks it in the tangle of wild grapevines and blackberry thickets. Seldom still in the wild, unless it be singing, the red beauty flits and dodges between twigs, and dips into brush and careens through the thickest undergrowth of things that combine to hide it, now here, now there, and everywhere. One would think its bright coat a certain and quick token of its whereabouts, but so active is the lively fellow that it eludes even the sharpest eye, a stranger mistaking its gleam for a rift of sun- light through the treetops. Legend tells us that the beak of this bird was once ashen gray and the 486 face white. Once on a time, a whole flock of them were discovered in the cur- rant rows of a mountaineer, who called on the gods of the woods to punish them, since he himself was unable to overtake the thieves. The gods, willing to appease the old man, yet loving the grosbeaks better, dyed their beaks crimson from that moment, and set black masks on their faces. Thus was a favor done to the cardinals, for ever after the juice of berries left no stain on their red lips, while the black masks set off their features to the best advantage, interrupting the tint of the beak and the head. He is no ecclesiastic, though he wear the red cap of the cardinal, which he lifts at pleasure, for he gets his living by foraging the woods and gardens for berries at berry-time. The cardinal's companion is modest of tint, ashy brown with only traces of red below, deepening on wings, head and tail. Bird of the bush is she, and she places her loosely made nest in the thicket, where she can easily obtain bark fiber and dry, soft leaves and grass. In it she sees that three or four chocolate- dotted eggs, like decorated marbles, are placed. And she repeats the family history two or three times a season, where the season is long. At first the lips of the baby birds are dark ; but they soon blush into the family red. In plumage they resemble the mother for a time, but before cold weather the males put on a coat of red with the black mask. In the respect of molting the cardinals differ from their young cousins, the rose-breasted, the latter requiring two or three years to complete the tints of adult life. But born in the thickets are the rose-breasts, just like the cardinals, the nest being composed of the selfsame fibers and woodland grasses. Strange craft of Mother Nature is this, to bring the rose-breast and the cardinal from eggs of the very same size and markings. But so she does ; so that a stranger coming upon either nest in the absence of the mother bird might mistake it for that of the other. You can't be certain until you see the old birds. The rose-breasted grosbeaks are found east of the Rocky Mountains and north into Canada. It migrates south early, and returns to its sumiuer habitat rather late in spring. Tlie lips of the rose-breast are white, not red, while the feet are grayish blue, dift'ering from the brown feet of the cardinal. How did it come by its breast ? Why, legend has it that the breast was white at the start. One day he forgot himself, not knowing it was night, he was so happy singing the funeral hymn of a robin-redbreast that had died of a chill in molting time, as birds do die when the process is belated. And the grosbeak sang on, until a night-owl spied him and thought to make a supper of a bird so plump. But the owl mistook his aim and flew away with only a beakful of the breast feathers, he not taking into account the nearness of the molt. The gros- beak escaped, but lacking a vest. The robins gathered pink wild-rose leaves and laid them on the heart of the singer, not forgetting to line the wings, and so from that day to this the psalm singer is known as the rose-breasted grosbeak. The head and neck of the male and most of the upper parts are black, the tail white and black combined, wings black variegated with white, and the 487 mid'dle breast and under wing-coverts the rich rose that deepens into a carmine. The beak is white. Tlie mother bird is streaked with blackish and olive brown above, below white tinged with dusk}-, under wing-coverts the tint of saffron. Her beak is brown. These beautiful birds may be seen in the haunts of autumn berries, early spring buds that are yet incased in winter wrappings, and orchards in the remote tops of whose trees have been left stray apples. By the time these are frost-bitten they are "ready cooked" for the belated rose-breasts, whose strong beaks seem made on purpose to bite into frozen apples. But frozen apples have a charm of taste for any one who takes the trouble of climbing to the outer limbs for a tempting recluse. Better were more of them left in the late harvest for boys and girls and the rose-breasted grosbeaks. An invisible thread fastened to a solitary apple on a high twig, and con- nected inside of the attic window of a cottage, suggests winter fun of a harmless sort. The grosbeaks fish for the apple, which all of a sudden is given a jerk from a watchful urchin inside the window ; and the bird realizes the historical "slip 'twi.xt the cup and the lip." The string being, to start with, almost invisible, is from necessity very weak as well, and breaks at about the third jerk. The fun for the participants inside the window at the other end of the string is over for a time, and before it is readjusted the apple has several bites in it. .-\nd besides, there are other apples. On the Pacific coast we have the black-headed grosbeak, cousin of the others and equally gifted in song. The sides of the head, back, wings and tail of this male are black, though the back and wings are dotted with white and cinnamon-brown. The neck and under parts are rich orange-brown, changing to bright, pure yellow on the belly and under wing-coverts. The bill and feet are dark grayish blue. The female and her young differ in the under parts, being a rich sulphur-yellow. Upper parts are olive shaded, varied with whitish or brownish stripes. The habits of the black-headed grosbeak are like those of the others described. From our custom of making the grounds as attractive to all wikl birds as possible, never relenting our vigilance in regard to the feline race, we have had splendid opportunities of studying this bird. They have nested with us for three years, beginning in wary fashion and ending in perfect confidence. The first of the season we saw only the male, and he kept high in the blue- gum trees, fifty or sixty feet or more above ground, singing as soon as everybody was out of sight, but disappearing if a door opened. We thought him a belated robin, so do the songs of the two birds impress a stranger. For weeks we could catch not so much as a glimpse of the singer, though we hid in the shrubbery. Shrubbery was no barrier to the sight of the keen little eye and ear above. Then we took to the attic, and from a little roof comer-pane beheld the musician. But his song was short and ended vmfinished, so suspicious was the bird. Gradually he came to understand that no shotgun disturbed the garden stillness, even though he sat on an outer bough, and no cat lurked in the roses. He also 488 appeared to notice that nobody played ball on the greensward, nor threw stones at stray chickens. Altogether circumstances seemed favorable to Sir Grosbeak, and he brought Madam along down from the mountain canons. By midsummer of the second season the two were seen at sunrise as low as the tallest of the orange-trees, but they flew higher or disappeared if the door were opened. It was the year that we first planted the row of Logan berries, a new cross between the blackberry and raspberry. It was between the orange and lemon trees, in a quiet corner of the orchard, and the grosbeaks espied them, reddening a month before they ripened. By getting up at dawn we made sure that nesting operations had begun with twenty feet of the Logan berries. But which way? It was not until the eggs were laid that we found the site on a low limb of a fig tree adjoining the berry row. The nest was made solely of dry dark-leaf spines, and so transparently laid that we could distinguish the three eggs from below. There was no lining, plenty of ventilation in this and other of these grosbeaks' nests obser\-ed in the foothills being the rule. Per- haps the climate induces the birds to this sanitary measure. Certain it is that this nest could be no harbor for those insect foes that too often make life miserable for the birdlings. The summer passed, and we gave up the row of berries to the grosbeaks. There were but few anyway, and we wanted the birds. And there was other fruit they were welcome to. This season the grosbeaks have brought off three broods within fifty feet of the house. The male sings in the low bushes and trees, and does not think of punctuating his notes with stops and pauses, even though we stand within a few feet of him. In fact, the birds are now as tame as robins. Young striped fledglings grope aJMut in the clover, or flutter in the bushes as fearless as sparrows. If we pick them up they will support themselves by a grip on the hand and swing by their strong great beaks, screaming at the top of their shrill voices to "let go !" when it is themselves that are holding on with might and main. If they scream long enough, and their beaks do not weaken in their clutch, the mocker comes to the rescue and scolds us, while we explain the situation, extending our hands with the grosbeak clinging to the palm. So far as we have known, all the nests in our grounds have been built in the crotch of a fig tree. The fig has sparse foilage and afifords little shelter. But then there are figs that ripen most of the summer — and figs are good for baby grosbeaks. Once we discovered a nest by accident. The bees at swarming- time settled in the top of a fig tree, a place not at all suitable, in our opinion. We were busily engaged in tossing dust into the tree to frighten the bees out, when a grosbeak appeared, scolding so hard in her familiar, motherly tone that we knew we were "sanding"' her nest as well as the bees. And we found it all right! She went on with her work after we had attended to the bees. On account of the fondness of the birds for fruit and buds, the grosbeaks might easily become resident in any home grounds. Low shrubbery they love when once they have become familiar; unlike the thrushes, not caring particularly for damp places. Dry, baked-in-the-sun nooks, crisp undergrowth, and especially 489 untrimmed berry rows fascinate them. Diirinj; mating-season the male sings all the time when he is not eating, singing as he flies from perch to perch, and like others of the family, has been accused of night serenades. We are unable to know certainly if it is our grosbeak or the mocker that wakes us at midnight. It is probably the mocker, who has stolen notes from all the birds. The Canada Goose {Bmnta canadensis) By Lynds Jones Synonyms. — "Wild Goose" ; Common Wild Goose. Description. — Adult: Head and neck glossy black; a large white triangular patch on either cheek, the two usually confluent on throat — occasionally an indistinct white collar at base of black; back and wings rich grayish brown; fore-breast and below lighter grayish brown, tipped with pale fulvous or grayish white; heavier toned on sides, where presenting a shingled appearance and shading into color of back ; lower belly, under tail-coverts, longer upper tail-coverts and flanks well up on rump, pure white ; rump and tail black ; primaries blacken- ing at tips; bill black; feet dusky. Immature: Similar, but white of cheeks and throat more or less mixed with blackish. Length 35.00-42.00 (889.-1066.8) ; wing 20.00 (508) ; tail 7.00 (177.8) ; bill 2.30 (58.4) ; tarsus 3.55 (90.2). Recognition Marks. — Eagle size ; black head and neck with white cheek- patches, and large size distinctive. Nest, on the ground, on a cliff, or in a tree (a deserted Osprey's nest and the like), Hned with down. Eggs, 4 or 5, light greenish buff, or buffy white. Av. size, 3.52x2.30 (89.4x58.4). Range. — Temperate North America, breeding in the northern United States and British Provinces ; south in winter to Mexico. HONK, honk — honk, honk! What a stirring sound is that which sum- mons us from whatever task indoors, and hurries us out hatless, breathless, into the crisp March air to behold a company of Wild Geese passing forward into the frosty North! Honk, honk! We think madly of our gun upstairs, for the Geese are provokingly near, and we hear the thrilling swish of the low-sweeping wings; but we take it out in great boasts to our similarly hatless neighbor, of what we could have done if the gun had been put together and we had known that those foolish Geese were coming right over town. And when the great birds become a row of trailing points on the northern sky, a fever of strange unrest bums within our veins, and we wonder through what ancestral folly our wings were clipped, and our race condemned to unceasmg For the Canada Goose there are but two points of the compass. North and South ; and unlike most migrants, he does not go by the map, nor follow favorite paths through the air, but flies straight over hill and dale, city and 490 hamlet alike, until the goal is reached, or until the weather discourages further movement for a time. The Geese move usually at a considerable height, form- ing open V-shaped figures, with the oldest or strongest gander in the lead at the apex ; or else in single oblique lines. Each bird demands as clear a field as possible, and this is best secured by an arrangement which allows each goose to look over the wings of the one next preceding, right or left, according to the branch of the V which it occupies. The line of march shifts and changes under the eye, as the hindmost birds become dissatisfied with their positions, and change sides, or as tired leaders give place to fresher birds ; and the changes are accomplished not without much lordly discussion in high-pitched honks. When selecting a pond or corner of the lake in which to spend the night, the birds first circle about cautiously at a safe height, and then slide down the air from a point a mile or so away, approaching the water silently and at a low angle. In rising from the water or the ground, the Geese prefer to make a little run, or preliminary flutter, to get headway, but are capable of clearing either by a sudden spring. The flight is heavy and labored at near aspect, but strong and swift when under way. Like all Geese this species feeds principally upon tender herbage, berries, sedge roots and aquatic plants. Stubble-fields afford a tempting banquet, and waste corn is eagerly gathered up. In winter the birds are very regular about their meals, rising punctually at daybreak and flying inland to feed for two or three hours in the grain fields. The middle of the day is passed quietly upon the pond, dabbling for water-cress and duck-weed, or enjoying one- legged slumbers on the sand-bar. Hunger drives them to forage again late in the afternoon, usually at the same spot visited in the morning. At such times the Geese are exceedingly vigilant and wary ; and it would appear that when feeding upon the ground, one or more of their number are charged with sentry duty. In countries where winter shooting is still allowed, rifle pits are dug during the night in grain fields known to be frequented by the Geese, and their call imitated by the crouching hunter as they approach at early dawn. Usually the nests are made of grass and placed near the borders of sloughs, or else upon the high prairie. Eggs have been taken from the top of muskrat houses, or found on weedy sand-bars, without other nest-lining than the down from the bird's breast. Stories of their occupying Ospreys' or Eagles' nests early in the season are numerous, and, I believe, well founded. In June, 1896, while traveling in northern Washington, near the British Columbia line, I came upon two large Ospreys' nests placed at a great height in balm trees, near the Okanogan River, and occupied by the owners. I was informed by a neighboring farmer sportsman, in whose word and judgment I had implicit confidence, that earlier the same season two pairs of White-cheeked Geese (the western form of the Canada Goose) had successfully reared their broods in the same nests. Canada Geese are readily domesticated and breed in captivity. The fol- lowing interesting notes on the habits of these Geese in captivity were made 491 by Mr. William Dutcher, in the Auk,' reporting in part the experience of Cai)tain Lane of Shinnecock Bay, Long Island: "Captain Lane has had remark- able success in breeding Canada Geese in confinement, and has kindly furnished me with the following information regarding their habits during the breeding season: 'They make their nests of dried grass, raising them about twelve inches from the ground. They feather them when they begin to lay, which is about Alay 1, None lay under three years old; the first season four eggs are laid, five the second season, and when older six and seven. A goose never has more than one mate. The gander never sits on the nest, but while the goose is sitting never leaves her. The time of incubation is four weeks. The yoiing when hatched are strong enough to take care of themselves, that is, they eat grass and walk and swim as soon as they get dry. They will eat meals on the second day. They are in the down four weeks, and are fully grown in six weeks. When swimming the gander goes ahead, the young next, and the goose follows, invariably.' " The Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher iMuscivora forfkata) By W. Leon Dawson Synonyms. — Swallow-Tailed Flycatcher; Scissor-Tail. Descrij)tion. — Adults: General color hoary-ash, lighter below, white on throat, darkening on nape, mingling with ochraceous or rusty on back; a con- cealed scarlet or orange crown-patch ; wings fuscous to blackish, with hoary and bufify-gray edgings ; first primary deeply emarginate and attenuate ; tail deeply forked, the outer pairs greatly produced, — three or four times the length of shortest feathers — the ordinary feathers black, and the longer ones black-tipped, but white or faint salmon-colored for four-fifths their length ; a scarlet tuft on the side of the breast ; lining of wings, sides of belly, and flanks bright salmon, fading on crissum ; bill and feet black. Immature: Similar; tail undeveloped; no crown-patch; first primary not emarginate. Length to fork of tail 7.50-8.50 (190.5-215.9); wing about 5.00 (127.); tail 5.00-10.00 (127.-254.); bill .65 (16.5). Females somewhat smaller, and with less developed tails. Recognition Marks. — Chewink size (comparing body sizes, exclusive of tail); hoary-ash, scarlet and salmon coloration; tail greatly produced, deeply bifurcated. Nesting.^ — "Nest, of sticks, etc., lined with feathers and other soft materials built in trees. Eggs, 3-5, .89 x .67 (22.6x17.), pure white or creamy white, boldly but sparingly spotted with rich madder-brown and lilac-gray." Range. — Texas, Oklahoma, Indian Territory, southern Kansas, southwestern Missouri, south through eastern Mexico to Costa Rica. Accidental in southern Florida (Key West), New Jersey, New England. York Factory (Hudson Bay Territory), etc. This exceedingly graceful Flycatcher is known to be a great wanderer, but 492 its normal range is confined to Texas, with adjacent territory on the north and south. The species is admitted to our state list on the authorit)' of Mr. Oliver Davie, who reports a single example said to have been taken near Marietta. The Scissor-tail is so named from a habit it has of opening and closing its elongated tail-feathers like the blades of a pair of scissors. These remarkable appendages may possibly serve the bird as balancers, or brakes, in flight, but a more natural explanation would seem to be that they were provided to enable the owner to work off his surplus energies, and to grace his bold sallies after insect prey. The birds are rather quarrelsome, especially among themselves. A fight between four or five males such as one observer reports, must be a spectacular affair — equal to one of those other occasions celebrated in the song of their native land, "When dey's razors a'flyin' troo de air." Like the kingbird it prefers the open country to forests, and seems to be best suited with prairies or rolling country with scattered trees on wdiich it can nest. In settled territory it takes kindly to orchards and even gardens in the near vicinity of buildings. While generally a quiet bird that lives on good terms with its neighbors, it displays something of the aggressive spirit of the kingbird in relation to crows and hawks, which it attacks with great vigor when they appear near its nest. One of his favorite performances is to fly up and, with rattling wings, exe- cute an aerial seesaw, a line of sharp-angled VVVVVVVV's, helping himself at the short turns by rapidly opening and shutting his long white scissors. x'\s he goes up and down he utters all the while a penetrating scream ka-qucc-ka-qiiee- ka-quee-ka-qnee-ka-quce, the emphasis being given each time at the top of the ascending line. Frequently when he is passing along with the even flight of a sober-minded crow and you are quietly admiring the salmon lining of his wings, he shoots rattling into the air, and as you stare after him drops back as suddenly as he rose. He does this apparently because the spirit moves him, as a boy slings a stone at the sky, but fervor is added by the appearance of a rival or an enemy, for he is much like a Tyranniis in his masterful way of controlling his landscape. He will attack caracaras and white-necked ravens, lighting on their backs and giving them vicious blows while screaming in their ears. Food : Mostly spiders, beetles and other harmful insects. Less than one per cent useful to man. 493 The English Sparrow as a Pest By Ned Dearborn The English sparrow was introduced into America a little more than 60 years ago, and is now distributed over nearly all of the United States and southern Canada. This rapid dissemination is a result of the bird's hardiness, extraordinary fecundity, diversity of food, aggressive disposition, and almost complete immunity from natural enemies. The English sparrow among birds, like the rat among mammals, is cunning, destructive, and filthy. Its natural diet consists of seeds, but it eats a great variety of other foods. While much of its fare consists of waste material from the streets, in autumn and winter it consumes quantities of weed seed and in summer numerous insects. The destruction of weed seed should undeniably count in the sparrow's favor. Its record as to insects in most localities is no so clear. In exceptional cases it has been found very useful as a destroyer of insect pests. For example, during a recent investigation by this bureau of birds that destroy the alfalfa weevil in northern Utah, English sparrows were feeding their nestlings largely on weevil larvae and cutworms, both of which are very injurious to alfalfa. In this case the sparrows, attracted by grain in the fields and poultry runs and by the excellent nest sites afforded by the thatched roofs of many farm buildings, had left the city and taken up their abode in the country where the weevil outbreak subsequently occurred. Unfortunately, how- ever, farmers can rarely expect such aid against their insect foes. Wherever this bird proves useful, however, it is entitled to protection and encouragement in proportion to its net value. Under normal conditions its choice of insects is often unfavorable. Out of 522 English sparrow stomachs examined by the Biological Survey, 47 con- tained noxious insects, 50 held beneficial insects, and 31 contained insects of little or no importance. The bulletin just referred to shows conclusively that, aside from the destruction of weed seed, there is, in general, very little to be said in the sparrow's favor. On the other hand much is to be said against the bird. It destroys fruit, as cherries, grapes, pears and peaches. It also destroys buds and flowers of cultivated trees, shrubs and vines. In the garden it eats seeds as they ripen, and nips off tender young vegetables, especially peas and lettuce, as they appear above ground. It damages wheat and other grains, whether newly sown, ripen- ing, or in shocks. As a flock of 50 sparrows requires daily the equivalent of a quart of wheat, the annual loss caused by these birds throughout the country is very great. It reduces the number of some of our most useful and attractive native birds, as bluebirds, house wrens, purple martins, tree swallows, cliflf swallows, and barn swallows, by destroying their eggs and young and by usurping nesting places. It attacks other familiar species, as the robin, wren, red-eyed vireo, catbird and mocking bird, causing them to desert parks and shady streets of towns. Unlike our native birds whose place it usurps, it has no song, but is 494 noisy and vituperative. It defiles buildings and ornamental trees, shrubs and vines with its excrement and with its bulk}- nests. The evidence against the English sparrow is, on the whole, overwhelming, and the present unfriendly attitude of the public towards it is reflected in our State laws. Nowhere is it included among protected birds. Although English sparrows are widely distributed as a species, individuals and flocks have an extremely narrow range, each flock occupying one locality to which its activities are chiefly confined. This fact is favorable to their extermination, for when a place has once been cleared of sparrows some time elapses before it is reoccupied. This tendency to remain on special territory was well shown during a recent experiment with a flock in a small city garden. Dur- ing the fall steady trapping reduced the resident flock in the garden to a dozen individuals, 274 birds having been trapped. The survivors were poisoned. Though another flock lived in the street just beyond the fence, the garden was sparrow free for three months. In the following spring a few sparrows appeared, but were soon trapped. After this the garden continued throughout the summer without a resident flock, and only rarely was it visited by sparrows from other parts of the neighborhood. AIDING NATIVE BIRDS AGAINST THE ENGLISH SPARROW One of the greatest objections to the English sparrow is its aggressive antagonism toward the small native birds, especially those familiar species which, like itself, build their nests in cavities. Nest boxes provided for bluebirds, martins, or wrens — birds both useful and pleasing — too often fall into the pos- session of this graceless alien, either by the right of discovery or by piratical assault. Fortunately it is possible to aid the native birds by selecting suitable nest boxes. Thus, a box having an entrance 1 inch in diameter will admit house wrens, but not sparrows. Boxes for larger birds may be constructed so that unwelcome tenants can be readily evicted and at the same time acceptable to more desirable species. When a sparrow has had its nest and eggs removed from a box, it not only as a rule seeks another place for its next nest, but is likely to avoid that type of nest box in future. The Sandhill Crane {Cms mexkana) By William C. Mills Range : resident in Louisiana and Florida ; bred formerly from southern British Columbia, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and western Ontario south to Cali- fornia, Colorado, Nebraska, Illinois and Ohio ; winters from California, Texas and Louisiana south to Mexico. The big sandhill crane seems most at home on the broad expanse of the western prairies and marshes which ofifer it food and security. It is still com- mon, however, in Louisana and southeastern Florida, where the prairies and 495 savannas are large enough to suit its tastes. Thus, as pointed out by Cooke, the two breeding areas of this species are separated by a distance of more than 600 miles. As the crane struts majestically about, it keeps a watchful eye for enemies, and when the danger proves threatening, it spreads its broad wings and with measured beats flies slowly away. Its loud buglelike notes, when heard coming from mid-air, as the birds slowly pass out of sight, have a delightful musical quality. The food of this crane consists of a large variety of animal life, among which are grasshoppers and meadow mice, so that a distinct claim of economic usefulness may be made for it. Unfortunately for its safety its meat is by no means unpalatable and in some localities it is much sought after for food. Unquestionably, however, the restriction of its breeding and feeding grounds by settlement has had more to do with the decrease in its numbers than firearms. Probably the fate of such a large bird, requiring so much space and freedom, can not be averted, but it can at least be postponed, and every man who carries a gun should do his part by refraining from making a target of its big body. Of the three species of cranes living in the United States the brown crane is the smaller and is confined to the Middle West. .Synonyms. — Southern Sandhill Crane ; Brown Crane. Description. — Exactly like preceding species, Init larger. Length about 43.00 (11.43.); wing 22.00 (558.8); tail 8.00 (20,^v2); bill 5..^0 (139.7); depth at base 1.05 (26.7); tarsus 10.25 (260.4); middle toe and claw 4.00 (101.6). Recognition Marks. — Eagle size ; slaty gray or brownish color ; crane pro- portions of bill, neck and tarsus ; considerably larger than the preceding species. Nest, a platform of roots, reeds, weed-stalks, etc., raised slightly above water or mud of swamp. Eggs. 2, grayish olive or drab, spotted and blotched distinctly and obscurely with reddish brown. Av. size 4.00x2.45 (101.6x62.2). Range. — Southern half of North .America ; rare near the .\tlantic Coast, except in Georgia and Florida. In 1895, I first saw the Sandhill Crane in what is known as the New Haven marsh, situated within a few miles of Chicago Junction. This was on the 15th of April, and I was informed by people living in the neighborhood that the Crane usually returned between the 15th of March and the 1st of .\pril. They are, at this time, seen in small flocks varying in nuiui)er from three to nine; however, four of five is the usual number. In the following year ('96), in the second week of April, I again observed a pair of these birds, at about the same place. A young man living in the neighborhood collected, in the latter part of May, a .set of the Sandhill Crane's eggs and placed then under a setting hen. In a few days they hatched, but he was only able to raise one of the birds ; this became quite a pet, and when I saw it in the autumn of that year it was very large and seemed to govern every- thing in the hennery. The bird was quite tame and would follow one around if there was any prospect of its receiving food. The following year, 1897. I again visited this marsh, on the 15th of May, intending to find a nest of this bird if possible. I was rewarded by finding two nests within one-fourth of a 496 P^^amu." 224 ; Life-size. COP/RIGH mile of each other. They were placed in the open, upon a portion of the marsh land that had been under cultivation for a few years prior to my visit, but had again grown up in weeds. The first nest was built in a small hollow in the ground and made of a few roots and weeds and some small bits of grass. These eggs were perfectly fresh, and were of an ashy yellow, spotted and blotched with brown and reddish brown. One of the eggs had light splotches of gray upon it. This set is now deposited in the oological collection at the Ohio State University. The second nest, which was located in the same field, was similar in every respect to the first, except that it was placed on a little more ele\-ated ground and contained more grass as a lining. These eggs were slightly incubated. The nest of these birds can readily be located, as the male bird is likely to be in the vicinity, and upon being disturbed, takes flight with a note of warning to his mate. She usually follows if you are coming in the direction of the nest. It is my impression that these birds leave the nest and run for a little distance before they take flight, as in both cases the birds ran from twenty-five to thirty feet from the nest before they started to fly. I marked well the position where they left the ground, and in my search I found they had gone that distance before flying. On the 18th of the month I again visited the marsh, intending if possible to get another sight of these birds, but they had left that part of the marsh and had no doubt gone farther toward the center and uncultivated part, which is less likely to be disturbed by man. On this day I went to the southern section of the marsh and was successful in flushing a Sandhill Crane from her nest. I found the eggs to be in a high state of incubation, the nest having the appearance of being long occupied, and I concluded to leave the eggs and return in a few days and see the young ; but it was upwards of a week before I was able to visit the place, and then I found that the eggs had hatched and the young had left the nest. I made a number of trips to the vicinity of the nest later in search of the birds, but was not able to see any but adult birds, and those only occasion- ally. During September they can again be seen in small flocks, and it is supposed that they leave this region the latter part of September or the first of October. I have always found these birds exceedingly shy and difficult to approach. In fact, I have never been within gunshot of one of them even during the nest- ing season. However, with a field glass I got a good view of one of these biids feeding, and even at this great distance the bird's vigilance was never relaxed. For after bending his long neck to the ground he rises again very erect, and at full length surveys the surroundings upon all sides. He resumes his repast, but should anything appear to view he stands perfectly motionless, surveys it closely, and invariably takes flight upon the slightest move. 497 The Oven Bird {Scnunts aurocapUlus) By Thomas Nuttall Length, a little over 6 inches. Above mostly olive green ; below white, breast and sides streaked with black. Range : Breeds from southern Mackenzie, Ontario, southern Labrador and Newfoundland south to Wyoming, Kansas, southern Missouri, Ohio \"alley and Virginia ; also in mountains of Georgia and South Carolina ; winters in southern Florida, southern Louisiana, Bahamas, West Indies and southern Mexico to Colombia. The oven-bird is one of our best known birds and one the woodland stroller is sure to get acquainted with, whether he will or no, so common is it and so generally distributed. In moments of ecstacy it has a flight song which has been highly extolled, but this is only for the initiated, its insistent repetition of "teacher, teacher, teacher," as Burroughs happily phases it, is all the bird vouch- safes for the ears of ordinary mortals. Its curious domed-over grass nest is placed on the ground and is not hard to find. The food of the oven-bird does not differ greatly from that of other warblers, notwithstanding the fact that the bird is strictly terrestrial in habits. It consists almost exclusively of insects, including ants, beetles, moths, span worms and other caterpillars, with a few spiders, millepods and weevils. During the summer this rather common bird is found throughout the forests of the United States and Canada, even as far west as Oregon. It arrives in the middle and northern States about the middle or close of May, and departs for tropical America, Mexico, and the larger ^^'est India Islands early in Sep- tember. The Oven-bird, or Golden-crowned Thrush, is shy and retiring, and is never seen out of the shade of the woods ; it sits and runs along the ground often, like the lark ; it also frequents the branches of trees and sometimes moves its tail in the manner of the Wag-tails. It has few pretensions to song, and, while perched in the deep and shady part of the forest, it utters at intervals a simple long reiterated note of 'tsh'e tshe tshe tshe, rising from low to high and shrill, so as to give but little idea of the distance or place from whence the sound proceeds, and often appearing from the loudness of the cadence to be much nearer than it really is. As soon as discovered, like the Wood-thrush, it darts at once timidly into the depths of its sylvan retreat. During the period of incubation, the deliberate lay of the male, from some horizontal branch of a forest tree, where it often sits, is a 'tshe te tshe te tshe te tshce, gradually rising and growing louder. Toward dusk in the evening, however, it now and then utters a .sudden burst of notes with a short agreeable warble, which terminates commonly in the usual 'tshe te tshe. Its curious oven-shaped nest is known to all sportsmen who traverse the solitary wilds which it inhabits. This ingenious fabric is sunk a little into the ground, and is generally situated on some dry and mossy bank contiguous 498 to bushes, or on an uncleared surface. It is formed with great neatness of dry blades of grass, and lined with the same; it is then surmounted by a thick inclined roof of similar materials, the surface scattered with leaves and twigs, so as to match the rest of the ground, and an entrance is left at the side. The eggs, four or five in number, are white, irregularly spotted near the greater end with reddish-brown. When surprised the bird escapes or runs from the nest with the silence and celerity of a mouse. If an attempt be made to discover the nest from which she is flushed, she stops, flutters and pretends lameness, and, watch- ing the success of the maneuver, at length when the decoy seems complete she takes to wing and disappears. The Oven-bird is another of the foster parents sometimes chosen by the Cowbird ; she rears the foundling with her accustomed care and affection, and keeps up an incessant tship when her unfledged brood are even distantly ap- proached. These birds have often two broods in a season in the middle States. Their food is wholly insects and their larvae, particularly small ants and beetles, chiefly collected on the ground. Birds W. H. Davies When our two souls have left this mortal clay, And. seeking mine, you think that mine is lost — Look for me first in that Elysian glade Where Lesbia is, for whom the birds sing most. What happy hearts those feathered mortals have, That sing so sweet when they're wet through in spring! For in that month of May when leaves are young. Birds dream of song, and in their sleep they sing. And when the spring has gone and they are dumb. Is it not fine to watch them at their play; Is it not fine to see a bird that tries To stand upon the end of every spray? See how they tih their pretty heads aside ; When women make that move they always please. What cozy homes birds make in leafy walls That Nature's love has ruined — and the trees. Oft have I seen in fields the little birds Go in between a bullock's legs to eat, But what gives me most joy is when I see Snow on my doorstep, printed by their feet. 499 The Black-Throated Blue Warbler (Dendroka ccBrulcscens) By I. N. Mitchell Description : Adult male : Above, dark dull blue, occasionally spotted with black on the back ; extreme forehead, sides of head, chin, throat, sides of breast, and sides, intense black ; remaining lower parts pure white ; wings and tail black- ish, edged on exposed portions with blue or whitish; a large white spot at base of primaries on both webs ; secondaries and lower tertials broadly edged with white; three outer pairs of tail-feathers broadly but decreasingly blotched with white on inner webs; bill black; feet brown. Adult female in spring: Above dull greenish blue ; no pure black anywhere ; sides of head dusky ; below white, sordid, or with a bluish huffy suffusion ; white spot at base of primaries reduced but still jiruniinent. Adult female in autumn : Similar but with more yellow everywhere ; therefore dull olive-green above, dingy yellow below ; brownish washed on sides. Immature male : Like adult male, but upper parts greenish ; less black below. Immature female: Like adult female in autumn. Adult male in winter: Above touched with olivaceous; below black somewhat restricted; flanks touched with brownish. Length 4.73-5.50 ( 120.6-139.7) ; av. of five Co- lumbus specimens: wing 2.53 (64.3) ; tail 1.86 (47.2); bill .39 (9.9). Recognition Marks: Medium size; lilack, dull blue, and white in masses of male ; white spot at base of primaries in female. Nesting: Nest, of bark-strips, twigs, and grasses, lined with fine rootlets and horse-hair ; placed in low bushes near ground. Eggs, 4 or 5, dull white, with spots and dots of olive-brown, chiefly wreathed about larger end. Average size, .68x.51 (17.3x13.). Range: Eastern North America to tlie Plains, breeding from northern New England and northern New York northward to Labrador, etc. West Indies and Guatemala in winter. The wild crab-apples were in bloom ; the rose-pink saucers and the rosier buds covered the hillside. It was good to be alive in the midst of such loveliness, and it was in just such a setting that a company of young people, very much alive, was birding in Johnson's Woods. The robin, appearing unusually plump and well cared for, was very much in evidence ; bluebirds with the sky on their backs had come in for much admiration, especially to one of the girls wdio was admiring them for the first time ; the gold- finches were foraging upon the ground and looked like animated dandelions ; a single hermit thrush, lingering behind his company, tilted his red-brown tail as he alighted among the blossoms ; olive-backs and veeries scurried out from beneath the bushes at our approach, giving scant opportunity for careful inspection ; a flicker displayed his scarlet crescent and white rump as he visited tree after tree ; yellow warblers full of the spring song and brilliant redstarts full of their coquetry had enabled us to renew old acquaintances. The young people, although enjoying the old friends, were desirous of making at least one new one ; nor were they disappointed. 500 'JH4 l;! '.' K I 111!' ' ^ I M> 1 i-1 F \\ \K} I h K ( I 'I'lidruKa caerujebi.en,, ( iiifl). Life si/e. As we turned from the hillside and skirted the marsh with its thickets of willow, the well trained leaders halted and beckoned the rest to approach with care. At the base on an old tree, quite similar to the one in our excellent illus- tration, sat the new bird of the day. His size, shape, bill and beauty all suggested warbler. The sunlight on the back made it appear much bluer than it is in th6 picture; the bill, cheeks, throat and wings were jet black and the under parts pure white. Nor did we fail to note the white triangle on the side of the wing. A few of the group knew this beauty to be the black-throated blue warbler and so he was proclaimed. Whence came this trtistful little bird? Did he not know that we were human and therefore to be feared? Why did he permit us to gather about him almost within arm's length? He is returning from a winter's visit in Cuba, Jamaica or Haiti to his birthplace somewhere north of Wisconsin. Perhaps in this long pilgrimage he has kept to the forests and to the air and has thus escaped acquaint- ance with man. \\'hatever the reason, we felt flattered by his unusual confidence or fearlessness. Not until each of us had had a good look at him did he part company with us, and then he went deliberately, picking his way over the clusters of apple blos- some, taking toll apparently, from the insects that were visiting the flowers or living on their stems. As he flew farther and farther away from us the little white triangle on the side of the wing was voted to be the very best field mark. On our way home fortune favored us with a chance to see the female, and it was this same little triangle that settled her identity. It was small and faint but unmistakable. The back was olive rather than blue, and the under parts were a dull whitish or yellowish. We had not the good fortune to hear the song of the male. We did not miss much so far as music is concerned, for it is short and wheezy. Three notes only constitute his repertoire. They are of the same pitch and may be represented by the words "wheeze, please wheeze," the last one being drawled out about twice as long as the other two and with the rising inflection. We renewed acquaintance with the red-winged blackbird, heard the scream of the bluejay and the ringing whistle of the meadow lark from a neighboring hillside and the rippling twitter of the chimney swift overhead. A Baltimore oriole flashed past us like a rocket and the trip was brought to a very happy con- clusion by a rose-breasted grosbeak that was picking at an old fruit cluster of a staghorn sumac and by a small flock of cedar waxwings that were gleaning the last of the berries on a mountain ash tree. We "bagged" thirty birds with our double barreled "opera guns" and voted the trip a charming success. 501 The Bird and the Citizen By Frank M. Chapman While, indirectly, the citizen of course shares in the services rendered by birds to our agricultural interests, birds have an additional claim upon his good will. Birds destroy many undesirable insects, mosquitoes, for example, some species of which have recently been found to be so inimical to the health of the human race. Birds further increase the health fulness of the world by acting as scavengers. It would be difficult to overestimate the value of the Buzzards, Vultures, and other ofifal-eating birds to the countries in which they live. In most instances the eco- nomic importance of these birds is too obvious to be overlooked, and they are, therefore, protected by law, and, by what is far more powerful than law, public sentiment. In our Southern States the Turkey Buzzard and Black Vulture, or "Carrion Crow" have become so numerous and tame as a result of the protection there, given them that they walk around the streets of the towns and cities in great numbers, and with no more evidence of fear than is shown by poultry. Every one realizes that a living Buzzard is of infinitely more value than a dead one, and in many years' experience in the South I have never seen a Buzzard molested. In New York, it is true, we have no Buzzard, but on the waters of our sea- coast, harbors, lakes and larger rivers, their place is taken by Gulls of several species, which, in feeding on the forms of aquatic life which, in dying, come to the surface, perform a sanitary service of the first importance. While a discussion of the economic relations of birds might be supposed to confine us to a consideration of the material side of their lives he would indeed be lacking in imaginative power, in ability to appreciate the usefulness or beauty, who did not find in these pre-eminently graceful, musical, attractive creatures a source of pleasure to mankind deserving our serious attention from the physiologic, and hence, economic standpoint. The pursuit which takes us afield and gives us rest and exercise combined, and increases our resources by broadening our interest in nature, is not merely a pas- time, but a recreation benefiting both mind and body, and better preparing us for our duties as citizens of the State. No one would think of asserting that the value of New York's game animals was to be reckoned in the terms of the bill-of-fare. A few thousand dollars would express their wealth to the butcher or restaurateur, but to the true sportsman they are an exhaustless mine of wealth. A day with dog and gun, rod or rifle may bring small returns from a pecuniary point of view, but who can calculate the amount of physical good and pure enjoyment it has afforded ? Game bag and creel may, indeed, be empty, while our mind is full of stimulating experiences, all increasing our eagerness to take to the field again. So the hunter of birds with opera glass and camera finds an even deeper pleas- ure in his excursions into their haunts and study of their ways ; a pleasure which no accounting of the value of birds to the State can ignore. In view of the economic importance of birds to our agricultural interests it 502 may now well be asked what is the attitude of the State toward creatures whose welfare is so closely connected with that of its citizens? Does it take proper measures to protect them? Does it urge the employment of methods designed to aid in their increase? It is true that the State formally recognizes the value of its assets in bird-life by the passage of laws intended to give birds legal protection, but no adequate means are provided for their enforcement. Where one person is prevented from killing a bird a thousand commit murder unchecked ; nor can this evil be remedied without a material increase in the force of game wardens. The latter, as their official title implies, are appointed chiefly to enforce the laws relating to game while the laws concerning the far more numerous, and economically more valuable, non-game birds are generally dead letters. So-called sportsmen shoot these birds in pure wantonness, pot-hunters slaugh- ter them for market, foreigners kill them for food, milliners' agents collect them to supply fashion's demands, boys find them a tempting mark for bean-shooters and air-guns ; while birds' eggs are taken as the legitimate prize of nearly every child who finds a nest. To these unnatural and remediable causes for the destruction of our birds should be added the ravages of the so-called domesticated cat. There are probably not less than two million cats in the State of New York. While many of them are well-fed pets, the larger proportion are to a greater or less extent depend- ent on their own efforts, often preferably so, for food. A single cat has been known to catch sixty wild birds in a season, and a well-known naturalist and authority on the birds of New England estimates that at least 1,500,000 birds are killed annually by cats in the New England States. It is unnecessary here to dwell on the decrease in bird-life following the clear- ing of forests, draining of land, accompanying the growth in our population, for this, in a measure, is unavoidable, it being my object only to show that so far as the State assumes an attitude towards the birds, that attitude is one of destruction. It being demonstrated that, in the main, birds are of great value to the State it follows that the State should spare no effort to afford its citizens of the air the protection they deser\'e. How, then, may we most effectively prevent the great destruction of bird-life which occurs in this State? The most rational methods would appear to be : (1) Enforcement of the law; (2) licensing of cats and destruction of all non-licensed cats; (3) teaching children to realize the economic and aesthetic value of birds ; (4) leaving hedge rows, undergrowth, and clumps of trees as resorts for birds. The laws of the State of New York relating to birds are so well drawn that their enforcement would give our non-game birds complete legal protection from their enemy man. But, as has been said, the present force of game wardens is far too small to afford our birds the protection which is their due. What is needed, however, is not an addition to the number of game wardens, but a new officer who shall be known as a bird warden, and whose especial duty shall be to enforce the laws designed to protect non-game birds. Such officer should not only prevent the illegal killing and trapping of birds, but should examine the stock of milliners and others who offer plumage for sale. 503 'l"hc growing interest in tiie study of nature and the establishment of nature study courses in our schools, in connection with the admirable campaign to teach the people the value of birds, inaugurated by the Audubon societies and the American (Jrnithologists' Union, lias already created a sentiment in favor of bird protection without which the best of laws are practically ineffective. Teachers have been quick to realize that the inherent, universal interest in bird-life can be made of great educational .and moral value in the training of children. No force at the State's command could effectually prevent boys from robbing nests and killing birds. Nor should the boy be prevented by force from giving this wholly natural exhibition of traits inherited from savage ancestors. The remedy here is to be applied, not by the State's bird wardens or police, but by its teachers. A normal, healthy boy should want to hunt birds and their nests, but a very little of the right kind of instruction at this stage of his life will often so broaden his interests that he soon finds living birds more attractive than dead ones. As for the destruction of birds bv cats, there can be no ddubl that it would be largely decreased by the passage of a law requiring the annual licensing of cats, and authorizing the proper authorities to kill all non-licensed cats. Such a law should be supported not only by the friends of birds, but by the friends of cats as well. By the former because the restriction of the cat population to the well-fed tabby of the fireside would not only greatly reduce the cat population, but would do away with its worst element, the cats who hunt for a living. It should be supported by the latter because its enforcement would put an end to the existence of the many starving felines of our cities whose happiest fate is sudden death. If birds are of value, as we believe them to be, we should not only prevent their decrease, but we should take such measures as seem calculated to assist their increase. We have seen that in destroying our forests we deprive many insectivorous birds of their homes, while in clearing hedge rows we often rob seed-eating birds of the protection the undergrowth affords them. With com- paratively little trouble we can add greatly to the attractions of our farms and gardens from the birds' point of view. Clumps of trees left in the fields and rows of trees along the hedge rows will prove paying investments, and wherever it does not seriously interfere with the tilling of the land the undergrowth should be spared. During the winter food in small quantities may be used to attract birds, and in the summer water for bathing or drinking is always wel- comed by them. Wren and Bluebird and Martin houses should be erected in suitable positions with the hope of securing bird tenants, who will ])ay a most profitable rental. 504 Coot [Fiilica americana) Length: About 15 inches. The slate-colored plumage, with blackish head and neck, white bill, and scalloped toes mark this bird apart from all others. Range : Breeds from southern Canada south to Lower California, Texas, Tennessee and New Jersey ; also in southern Mexico and Guatemala ; winters from southern British Columbia, Nevada, Utah, Ohio Valley and Virginia south to Panama. The coot, or mud-hen, is a sort of combination of duck, galHnule and rail, and withal is a very interesting bird. Fortunately for the coot, its flesh is little esteemed, and by many, indeed, is considered unfit for human consumption. The coot is thus passed by in contempt by most sportsmen, and in some regions it is as tame as can well be imagined, swimming within a few feet of the observer with entire unconcern. Under other circumstances, however, as in Louisiana, where it is shot for food under the name poule d'eau, it becomes as wild as the most wary of ducks. It frequents both salt and fresh water, preferably the latter. The mud-hen is one of the few American birds that occasionally visits the distant Hawaiian Islands in fall and winter. Finding conditions there to their liking, some of the immigrants, probably centuries ago, elected to remain and found a new colony, and there, in the fresh water ponds of the island archipelago, their descendants still live and thrive. The food of the coot consists almost entirely of water plants of no use to man. There would seem, therefore, to be no excuse for killing or disturbing the bird in any way. Autumn Beauties By Miller Noel Long Earth is putting on bright raiment Ere the winter is begun ; All the leaves are glowing jewels In the dazzling autumn sun. All the ground is flecked with spangles. Saffron hue, or ruddy gold ; Wealth of myriad trees down-showered Shows the year is growing old. Overhead a sapphire curtain In bright beauty is unfurled; Clouds like misty, purple hilltops Crown the edges of the world. O the glowing, golden autumn ! All too short her splendid reign ; Hasten, then, ye other seasons — Autumn, come to us again ! 505 Birds of Town and Country By Henry W. Henshaw From very ancient times birds have appealed to the interest and imagination of mankind. They have furnished themes for innumerable poets, have appeared in many guises in primitive religions, and by their flight inspired the predictions of the soothsayers of old. In these modern and prosaic times birds still continue to interest mankind, and the last decade has witnessed a marked strengthening of the sentiment toward them. The present interest is direct and personal, and today hundreds of thousands of men and women in various parts of the country, old as well as young, are employing much of their leisure in familiarizing themselves with the birds of their respective localities. In following birds afield, in studying their habits, and listening to their songs, they bring themselves into close touch and sympathy with nature and add new zest to life — a zest, be it noted, which enriches without harm to any creature. Woulcl that the same could be said of the sportsman who almost invariably is at heart a nature lover, though the primitive instinct to kill is uppermost. Many sportsmen, however, who formerly followed wild creatures only to kill, have abandoned the use of rifle and shotgun, and today are finding greater pleasure in studying and photographing their former quarry than they did in pursuing it with murderous intent. A real interest in living outdoor wild life leads naturally to a love of nature in all her varied manifestations, and this, in all lands and under all circumstances, remains a source of lasting pleasure. A love of birds from the esthetic side, however, is of comparatively recent development and had little place among primitive peoples, who utilized birds chiefly in two ways — for food and for ornament. Feathers, especially, appealed to them for pur])oses of adornment, and this barbaric taste has not only survived among civilized races, but in recent years has developed to an extent which threatens the very existence of many of the most beautiful and notable species of birds in various parts of the world. No region is too remote, no forests too deep, no mountains too high to stay the plume-hunter, stimulated by the golden bribe offered by the tyrant Fashion. Happily, America has taken the lead in an attempt to restrict this craze for feather adormnent, which means nothing less than the death of millions of beautiful and useful creatures. Nor are evidences wanting that other countries as well have recognized the gravity of the situation and are preparing to pass protective laws similar to those recently enacted in this country. BIRDS ARE THE FARMERS' MOST EFFICIENT ALLIES While birds appeal to the regard and interest of man from the esthetic side as no other creatures do, there is another and even more important point of view, and it is no doubt true that of late years interest in birds has been greatly stimulated by the discovery that they possess an economic value. Indeed, so 506 great is their value from a practical standpoint as to lead tO the belief that were it not for birds successful agriculture would be impossible. The stud)' of the economic side of bird Hfe and of the relations of birds to the farmer and horticulturist have been greatly stimulated in the United States by Federal aid and supervision, and in no other country in the world have the activities of birds been so carefully investigated with reference to their practical bearing. Under the Biological Survey of the Department of Agriculture, for instance, is a corps of trained men, who study the food of birds by careful exam- ination of the stomachs of specimens killed for scientific purposes. The information thus gained is supplemented by observations in the field, and the result is a large amount of invaluable data illustrative of the economic relations of many kinds of birds. This storehouse of information has been largely drawn upon in the following pages. OUR COUNTRY IS P.\RTICUL.\RLY FORTUNATE IN THE NUMBER AND VARIETY OF ITS BIRDS It would be strange indeed if our land, with its vast extent of territory, its diversified landscape, its extensive forests, its numerous lakes and streams, with its mountains, prairies, and plains, had not been provided by Nature with an abundant and diversified bird life. As a matter of fact, America has been favored with a great variety of birds famed both for beauty and for song. America also possesses certain families, as the humming birds and wood-warblers, the like of which exist nowhere else in the world. In considering the many kinds of birds in the United States from the practical side, they may not inaptly be compared to a police force, the chief duty of which is to restrain within bounds the hordes of insects that if unchecked would devour every green thing. To accomplish this task successfully, the members of the force must be variously equipped, as we find they are. Indeed, while the 1,200 kinds of birds that inhabit the United States can be grouped in families which resemble each other in a general way, yet among the members of the several families are marked variations of form and plumage and still greater variation of habits, which fit them for their diversified duties. As the bulk of insects spend more or less time on the ground, so we find that more birds are fitted for terrestrial service than for any other. Our largest bird family, the sparrows, is chiefly terrestrial, and although its members depend much upon seeds for subsistence they spend no little share of their time search- ing for insects. They are ably aided in the good work by the thrushes, wrens, certain of the warblers, and many other birds. Another group is of arboreal habits, and plays an important part in the conserv^ation of our forests, the true value of which we have only recently learned to appreciate. So many insects burrow into trees that a highly specialized class of birds — the woodpeckers — has been developed to dig them out. The bills, tongues, feet, and even the tails of these birds have been cunningly adapted to this one end, and the manner in which this has been done shows how fertile Nature is in equipping her servants to do her bidding. 507 The bark of trees also forms a favorite shelter for numerous insects, and behold the wrens, nuthatches, warblers, and creepers, with sharj^est of eyes and slenderest of bills, to detect our foes and to dislodge them from crack and cranny. The air is full of flying insects, and to take care of these there are the swallows, swifts, and night-hawks, whose wings and bodies are so shaped as to endow them with the speed and agility necessary to follow all the turns and windings of their nimble insect prey. The whippoorwills. swift of wing and with capacious mouths beset with bristles, attend to the night-flying insects when most birds are asleep, while the hawks by day and the owls by night supplement the work of other birds and have a special function of their own, the destruction of noxious rodents. Thus every family of birds plays its own part in the warfare against insects and other foes to man's industry, and contributes its share to man's welfare. Birds would fall far short of what they accomplish for man were they not the most active of living things. It is curious that the group of vertebrates which live the fastest — that is, have a higher temperature and a more rapid circulation than any other — should be related by descent to a family of such cold-blooded creatures as the reptiles and lizards, which often go without food and hibernate for considerable periods. Very different is it with birds. Few realize the en- ormous quantity of food required to sustain the energy of these creatures, most of whose waking hours are spent in a never-ending search for food. In satisfying their own hunger birds perform an important service to man, for notwithstanding the fact that the acreage under cultivation in the United States is larger than ever before, and that the crops are greater, the cost of foodstuffs continually mounts upward. Meanwhile the destruction of farm and orchard crops by insects and by rodents amounts to many millions each year, and if any part of this loss can be prevented it will be so much clear gain. The protection of insectivorous and rodent-destroying birds is one of the most effective means of preventing much of this unnecessary loss, and the public is rapidly awakening to the importance of this form of conservation. From the farmers' standpoint, such birds as the bobwhite, prairie-chicken, the upland plover, and the other shore birds are worth very much more as insect eaters than as food or as objects of pursuit by the sportsman. This statement applies with especial force to such species as the prairie-chicken, which everywhere in its old haunts is threatened with extinction. The value of birds to the farmer is plain enough, but we do not usually think of birds as having any direct relation to the public health. To prove that they do, however, it is only necessary to state that 500 mosquitoes have been found in the stomach of a single night-hawk ; th;it in a killdeer's stomach hundreds of the larvse of the salt-marsh mosquito have been found, and that many shore birds greedily devour mosquito larvae. As mosquitoes are known to carry the germs of such serious diseases as dengiie fever and malaria, it is evident that by destroying them birds are conferring an important benefit on man. It may be added that not infrequently ticks are eaten by birds, and that the tick responsible for the spread of Texas fever among cattle has been found in the stomach of the bobwhite. 508 Since birds perform such invaluable service, every effort should be made to protect the birds we now have and to increase their numbers. This can be done in several ways ; (a) by furnishing nesting boxes for certain sp)ecies to nest in, as swallows, martins, wrens, woodpeckers, great-crested flycatchers, and others; (b) by planting berry-bearing shrubs about the farm or orchard as food for the birds in winter; (c) by the establishment of bird sanctuaries, where birds may be reasonably safe from their natural enemies and be permitted to live and breed in absolute security as far as man is concerned. Here, again, the National Government, taking the lead, has set apart no less than 64 bird refuges in various parts of the United States. These for the most part are rocky, barren islands of little or no agricultural value, but of very great usefulness in the cause of bird protection. The e.xample thus set is now being followed by certain States, as Oregon and Wisconsin. Several private citizens also have acquired islands for the purpose of making bird pre- serves of them; others not only prevent the destruction of wild life on their forested estates, but go much farther, and endeavor in various ways to increase the number of their bird tenants. Spotted Sandpiper {ActUis macularla) Length, about 6 inches. The "tip up," with its brownish gray upper parts and white under parts and its teetering motion, is too well known to need descrip- tion. Range : Breeds in northwestern Alaska and in much of northern Canada south to southern California, Arizona, southern Texas, southern Louisiana and northern South Carolina; winters from California, Louisiana and South Carolina to southern Brazil and Peru. The little "tip up," as it is appropriately named, from its quaint nodding motion, unduly favors no one section or community but elects to dwell in every region suited to its needs from Alaska to Florida. It is doubtless more widely known than any other of our shore birds, and as it takes wing when disturbed, its "wit, wit" comes to us from beach, river side, and mill pond, from one end of the land to the other. It is the only shore bird that habitually nests in cornfields and pastures, and its handsome buff eggs spotted with chocolate are well known to the farmer's boy ever>'where. Much is to be said in favor of the food habits of the little tip up, as the bird includes in its diet army worms, squash bugs, cab- bage worms, grasshoppers, green flies and crayfishes. Having thus earned a right to be numbered among the farmers' friends, the bird should be exempt from per- secution. The tiny morsel of flesh afforded by its plump little body, when the bird has been shot, is in no sense an adequate return for its services when alive and active in our behalf. 509 White-Winged Crossbill {Loxia kucoptera) By Leander Keyser Description : Male : Rosy-red or carmine all over, save for grayish of nape and black of scapulars, wings, and tail. The black of scapulars sometimes meets on lower back. Two conspicuous white wing-bars are formed by the tips of the middle and greater coverts. Bill slenderer and weaker than in preceding species. Female and yoimg: Light olive-yellow, ochraceous, or even pale orange over gray, clearer on rump, duller on throat and belly; most of the feathers with dusky centers, finer on crown and throat, broader on back and breast; wings and tail as in male, but fuscous rather than black ; feather-edgings olivaceous. Very variable. Length, 6.00-6.50 (152.4-165.1) ; wing, 3.50 (88.9) ; tail, 2.25 (57.2) ; bill, .67 (17.). Recognition Marks : Sparrow size ; crossed bill ; conspicuous white wing- bars of both sexes. Nesting: Not known to breed in Ohio. "Nest, of twigs and strips of birch- bark, covered exteriorly with moss (Usnca) and lined with soft moss and hair, on the fork of an evergreen, in deep forests. Eggs, 3 ( ?), pale blue, spotted and streaked near larger end with reddish brown and lilac, .80x.55 (20.3x14.)" (Chamberlain). Range: Northern parts of North America, south into the United States in winter. Breeds from northern New England northward. The habits of this lesser known species appear to be substantially the same as those of L. c. minor. Its summer range lies for the most part further north, although it also breeds in the mountains of the West. It is much less frequent in winter than the preceding species, although it occasionally appears in great numbers. "In the spring of 1869, Mr. Jillson, of Hudson, Mass., sent me a pair of these birds which he had captured the preceding autumn. They were very tame, and exceedingly interesting little pets. Their movements in the cage were like those of caged Parrots in every respect, except that they were far more easy and rapid. They clung to the sides and upper wires of the cage with their feet, hung down from them and seemed to enjoy the practice of walking with their heads downward. They were in full song and both the male and the female were quite good singers. Their songs were irregular and varied, but sweet and musical. They ate almost every kind of food, but were especially eager for slices of raw apples. An occasional larch cone was also a great treat to them. Although while they lived they were continually bickering over their food, yet when the female was accidentally choked by a bit of eggshell, her mate was incon- solable, ceased to sing, refused his food, and died of grief in a very few days." 510 377 WHIT'E-WINGED CROSSBILL. (Loxia leucoptern.; About -•; Life-s:ze. MUMFORD, CHICAGO Pacific Coast Jays By. F. E. L. Beal In California and adjacent States two species of jays are much in evidence under several more or less well-marked forms. The Stellar jay much resembles the eastern bird, but it is more shy and retiring and seldom visits the orchard or vicinity of the ranch buildings. Stomach examination shows that its food does not radically differ from that of the eastern blue jay. As is the case with that bird, a very considerable part of the food consists of mast, together with a little fruit and some insects. The insects are largely wasps, with some beetles and grasshoppers. The jay also eats some grain, which is probably waste or volunteer. No complaints, so far as known, are made against this bird. Until it shall become less wary it is not likely to trespass to a serious extent upon the farmer's preserve. The California jay, although of a different genus, more nearly resembles its eastern relative in food habits and actions. It freely visits the stockyards near ranch buildings, and orchards and gardens. As a fruit stealer it is notorious. One instance is recorded where seven jays were shot from a prune tree, one after the other, the dead bodies being left under the tree until all were killed. So eager were the birds to get the fruit that the report of the gun and the sight of their dead did not deter them from coming to the tree. In orchards, in canyons or on hillsides adjacent to chaparral or other great mischief is done by this bird. In one such case an orchard was under observation at a time when the prune crop was ripening, and jays in a continuous stream were seen to come down a small ravine to the orchard, prey upon the fruit, and return. Fruit stealing, however, is only one of the sins of the California jay. That it robs hens' nests is universal testimony. A case is reported of a hen having a nest under a clump of bushes; every day a jay came to a tree a few rods away, and when it heard the cackle of the hen announcing a new egg it flew at once to the nest. At the same time the mistress of the house hastened to the spot to secure the prize, but in most cases the jay won the race. This is only one of many similar cases recounted. The jays have learned just what the cackle of the hen means. Another case more serious is that related by a man engaged in raising white leghorn fowls on a ranch several miles up a canyon. He stated that when the chicks were very young the jays attacked and killed them by a few blows of the beak and then pecked open the skull and ate out the brains. In spite of all efforts to protect the chicks and kill the jays the losses in this way were serious. Examination of the stomachs of 326 California jays shows that 27 per cent of the contents for the year consists of animal matter and 73 per cent of vege- table. Although the great bulk of the animal food is made up of insects, the remains of eggshells and birds' bones appear much too often. The insect food is fairly well distributed among the more common orders, but grasshoppers are 511 slijjhtlv the most numerous and constitute 4.3 per cent of the year's food. In ]ul\', .August, -and .September, however, the amount is 14, 18, and 19 per cent, respectively. I-'our per cent of the food consists of wasps, bees, etc., but in the three months named they constitute 15, 7, and 9 per cent, respectively. A worker honevbee found in each of two stomachs is rather surprising, for it is unusual to find a bird Hke the jay eating many of these active and elusive insects, which enter into the diet of the flycatchers. The remainder of the insect food is pretty evenly (hstributed among Ijeetles, bugs, flies, and caterpillars. Eggshells were found in 21 stomachs and birds' bones in 5. Six stomachs contained the bones of mammals and two those of a lizard. No bird has a worse reputation for nest robbing than has the eastern jay, and yet of 530 stomachs of the eastern species only 6 contained eggshells or the bones of birds. This comparison serves to show what a marauder and nest thief the California jay really is. In its vegetable diet this bird much resembles its eastern relative, the most remarkable difference being in the matter of fruit eating. With greater oppor- tunities the California bird has developed a greater appetite for fruit and indulges it to the fullest extent. Remains of fruit were found in 220 of the 326 stomachs. The percentage for the year is only 16, but for the four months of June, July, August, and September it is 44, 33, 53, and 25, respectively. Cherries, apricots, and prunes are the favorites among cultivated fruits, and elderberries are relished to some extent. Grain, whicli was found in 48 stomachs, amounts to 6 per cent of the food of the year. Practically all of it was taken in the four months above mentioned, but it is not probable that much damage is done by the jay in this respect. The major portion of the grain was oats. What was not wild was probably simply scattered grain gleaned after the harvest. Mast is eaten by the California jay from September to March, inclusive, and constitutes during most of that period one of the principal elements of its food. In this respect the bird shows a remarkable similarity to the eastern species. A few weed seeds and other miscellaneous items make up the balance of the vegetable food. In summing up from an economic point of view the character of the food of the California jay, it must be conceded that it is not all that could be wished. Its taste for birds' eggs and frait is entirely too pronounced, and at present the species is superabundant in California. While the natural food supply of the bird has been lessened by bringing the woods and brushy canyons under cultiva- tion, the same areas have been planted to fruit, and naturally the jay takes the fruit as an acceptable substitute. A considerable reduction of the bird's numbers would appear to be the only effective remedy. 512 Go to the Birds, Thou Sluggard By Alexander Pope If the scriptural injunction, "go to the ant, thou sluggard," should be changed to, "go to the birds, thou sluggard," I think a much more desirable example of intelligent industr_v would be suggested for the sluggard to emulate. To be sure, an ant is never still, but to the casual observer he does not seem to accomplish much. Of course, the scientific observer knows what they actually accomplish, but the ordinary person is inclined to agree with Mark Twain in his conclusions about ants, which he arrived at after spending a great deal of time observing them when "he had much better have been doing something else." If I were going to suggest a model for the sluggard to emulate, I should stiggest any one of our common birds after their young are hatched in the early summer. They are examples not only of tireless activity, but of intelligent work. A pair of field-sparrows built their nest on my lawn this year, and when the grass was cut the first time, with a scythe, being too long for the lawn-mower, the man who cut it found this nest, and marked it with a twig, and very considerately left a tuft of grass about two feet in diameter around it. As the summer residents' cats had not yet arrived, these birds were able to raise their whole brood. These industrious little workers were busy from daylight until dark, dropping insects into the four gaping mouths, the male sharing the duties of providing food equally with the female. One of the parents would fly off a short distance, and returning with a tiny moth or fly, light on the twig and then pop down into the nest, reap- pear immediately to allow its mate to contribute what she had gathered and start oS again after more insects. As all the mouths of the hungry little brood were opened to their fullest extent on the arrival of one of the old birds, it must require something like memory for the parents to decide which mouth was ne.xt in turn to be fed. Robins are another instance of unselfish devoticKi and tireless activity. All day long they are on my lawn, hopping three or four feet, stopping a few seconds, cocking their heads on one side to look for a worm that has incautiottsly allowed its head or its tail, whichever it is, to protrude slightly above the ground, and hav- ing seen one they seize and pull and tug until it is brought out entirely whole. When I used to go fishing and dug worms for bait, I found the greatest difficulty in getting a worm out whole, although half its length might be exposed, but a robin can pull and tug and he never breaks it. How fortunate it is that human beings don't require as much animal food in proportion as the robins ! During this high cost of living it would be quite a strain on the head of a large family to provide them with half a ton of beef, more or less, every day. Another industrious and indefatigable little worker for the sluggard to copy as far as activity goes, but in no other way. is the English sparrow. He is certainly unpopular and deservedly so, but there is no denying his capacity for work or his indomitable perseverance. He is not an artistic builder or a desirable neighbor, like his cousins, the field, vesper, chipping and song-sparrows, but he is no less a 513 worker. He builds a verj- unsightly nest, much larger than seems to be necessary, and if, after completion, it is torn down, he starts right in again to rebuild, and if destroyed a second or even a third time, he persistently keeps at work until ho finally conceives the idea that he is not wanted in that particular place. Of all the birds that I am acquainted with, the only one I happen to know that is absolutely de\ oid of all maternal afifection is the cow bunting. This detest- able birds neglect all family duty by laying its eggs, as everyone knows, in some smaller bird's nest, and when hatched by the motherly little one, it often crowds out the other legitimate occupants of the nest, and is carefully raised by its foster- mother. Its own mother, in the meantime, is having a good time in an adjoining pasture, following the cows, and gorging herself on crickets and other insects which the cows scare up as they graze. These birds not only neglect to feed and care for their young, but are too lazy to hunt for their own food, and allow the cows to do that for them. 1 once heard a noise near my house which I thought was made by a young robin, but investigation proved it to be a young cow bunting. It had evidently just left the nest, and was flapping its wings and crying for food, while a little chipping-sparrow, that had brought this thing into the world by sacrificing her own brood, was endeavoring to supply. My first instinct was to shoot the interloper, but on second thoughts I decided the little chippy was proud of her big baby, and it would be a disappointment to her to lose him. It seeius as though a bunting, if it is going to play such a trick on some other bird, might at least select one of its own size. In advising the sluggard to emulate the Ijirds. we must certainly make an exception of the cow bunting. The Pdlm Warbler {Demlroica palmarum) By W. Leon Dawson Synonyms. — Red-poll Warbler; Yellow Red-poll Warbler (name now re- stricted to subspecies D. p. hypochrysea) ; Wagtail Warbler. Description. — Adults: Crown chestnut: superciliary line yellow; extreme forehead dusky, divided by short yellow line ; lores dusky : cheeks grayish, tinged or streaked with chestnut ; upper tail-coverts yellow ; remaining upper parts gray- ish brown, slightly tinged with olive ; wings and tail dusky, with obscure grayish or greenish yellow edgings, the former without bars ; subteriuinal white spots, usual to the genus, on two outer pairs of rectrices ; chin, throat and crissum clear vellow ; remaining under parts yellowish or dingy, more or less streaked, especially on sides, with dusky or pale rufous ; a loose necklace of small dusky spots. Jdiilt in ivinter and immature: Crown-patch much obscured by brownish; superciliary line whitish or bufl^y ; below, dingy white or buft'y with faint yellowish tinge ; breast and sides obscurely streaked with dusky, and sides washed with brownish ; crissum clear yellow; upper tail-coverts yellowish olive-brown. Length 4.50-5. .SO (114..S- 514 505 PALM WARBLER. (Dendroica palmaruml Life-size. MFORD, CHICABO. 139.7) ; av. of four Columbus specimens: wing 2.60 (66.) ; tail 1.98 (50.3) ; bill .40 (10.2). Recognition jMarks. — Medium size ; chestnut crown distinctive in high plumage ; yellow crissum in any plumage. Keep to fence-rows, hedges and way- side bushes ; "bobs" nervously and wags tail. Nesting, — Does not breed in Ohio. A'cst. on the ground in tuft of grass, compactly built of grasses, bark and moss. Eggs, 4, creamy white, spotted and blotched with purple, lilac and reddish brown. Av. size. .70 x .52 (17.8 x 13.2) (Davie). Range. — Northern interior to Great Slave Lake : in winter South Atlantic and Gulf States, the West Indies and Mexico. Oi rare but regular occurrence in the Atlantic States in migrations. In the careful husbandry of nature this bird alone of the Wood-\'\'arbler kind has been assigned to a station unmistakably humble. The Prairie Warbler, indeed, regularly frequents low bushes, but only the "Red-poll" takes freely to the ground as well. It was there that he learned from the Water Thrushes that quaint habit of tilting the body and shaking or "jetting" the tail, as though pro- tective harmony of coloration must be atoned for by some conspicuous and in- cessant motion, lest the bird be stepped on unawares, Although it feeds much upon the ground, especially in its winter home in the southern states, where it hops about after the fashion of a Titlark or even patters along the dusty roadside, its favorite resorts during migrations are wayside coppices, neglected fence-rows, and the undergrowth of damp woods. In such places it is to be found in April, flitting from bush to bush or searching quietly among the weeds. It usually lingers well into May and appears again, but less frequently, rather late in the fall. The bird is somewhat variable in appearance and often quite puzzling at some distance. Now a casual glance notes it for a sparrow, and again it challenges attention as some mysterious unknown. If only one catches the nervous flirt of the tail the case is out of chancery. Several writers on birds pour contempt on the Palm Warbler's song and many profess ignorance of it altogether. It is not a very elaborate affair, but I have heard it delivered with a sprightliness and energy which called me half w-ay across a pasture. One bird in particular lured me to the edge of a wood lot with a spirited rollicking chatter which made me suspect Junco in an ecstacy. Its ordinary song consists of a succession of twinned notes in a swell. On this Xjoint Lynds Jones says, "Each syllable should be given a half double utterance except at the middle of the swell, where the greater effort seems to coalesce the half double quality into one distinct syllable." At other times I have noticed a mere sustained sibilation, zvlssa, ivissa, zifissa. zi-issa zi'issa. without inflectional change. Besides this he has the inevitable Dendroican chip, but it is scarcely distinctive enough to be recognizable when a dozen other species are flying. 515 What Bird Life Means to Us By El Coniancho Bird life, nieaiiina; the common wild birds with which every country boy is familiar, from the old black crow to the meadow-lark, Ijlackbird, bobolink, and all the rest of the song-birds, is of much more value each year to the people of the United States than the biggest railroad system in the country. That may seem to be a pretty broad statement, yet it falls far short of stating the actual facts. The agricultural department of the United .States CJovernnient has kept tab on the birds, what they do, what they eat every day in the year, and what their habits are, until now their lives are an open book. This work, done by the biological survey, has brought out some very astonishing things besides natural history, for it has been so thoroughly and so painstakingly done that not only is the list of foods for each bird for the entire year accurately tabulated, but the average bulk amount of each kind of food is known so closely that values in dollars and cents can be reckoned, and thus the actual live value to the nation of each individual bird be easily computed. For forty years I have made it a part of my daily life to watch and to study all nature, and especially to study our common song-birds. This has given me a great volume of accurate information so that I have for years had a very good working idea of the value of birds as insect and weed seed destroyers. It remained for the biological survey, however, to get these things down to scientific accuracy because, where I was only one man, they put hundreds of observers into the field and thus w'erc able to carry on a system of espionage that covered every State in the Union simultaneously. In addition to this they were able to bring in expert scientific observers and laboratory men whose life business is the study of bugs, good, bad and indifferent. This system was organized and the laboratory men began to examine the crops of birds sent in by hunters from all over the country. Immediately things began to happen; certain insects were found (in whole specimens and fragments) in the crops of many birds; certain other insects were found only in the crops of certain birds. Some crojjs contained only weed seeds of one kind or another ; others contained a great mixture of seeds of various weeds, and many others contained both weeds and bugs. The strangest tlTing developed by this work was that robins and certain other birds, long accused of being fruit eaters and, therefore, detrimental to mankind, were absolutely cleared of the charge because their diet is almost entirely insects with only here and there a cherry ! Every robin is entitled to the few cherries he eats because without him there would be no cherries for anybody, for he destroys the insects that destroy cherries and when he is in the cherry-tree he is eating more insects than cherries. Many other supposed-to-l)e-harmful birds were found to be just as iielpful. and there is no guesswork about it now ! 516 The common Bob-white quail, killed all over the country for sport, is worth each year considerably more than his own weight in pure gold because he destroys harmful insects (like the potato-bug, chinch-bug, and others) enough to save more than the value of his own weight in gold in crops for the farmer. Remember that each and every quail is worth that for bug-destroying alone, to say nothing of the weed seeds he destroys on top of that, so the farmer with a flock of quails on his land should protect them because in doing so he is saving- money for himself and the crop supply for all. If it were not for the common forked-tail swallow we could not raise a cotton crop in the United States, simply because the food of the swallow in its migrations over the cotton belt is the cotton boll weevil, and the bird eats the insect in the moth or egg laying stage, so he strikes at the weevil in his weakest spot. There is not one single wild bird of any species (not even excepting hawks and owls long killed on sight by everybody), but what is of very great value to man, and every man, woman and child should protect every bird because it means a tremendous crop increase to us all. Black -Crowned Night Heron (Nycticomx uaevius naevius) Length, about 24 inches. The black crown distinguishes it from its relative, the yellow-crowned night heron. Range. — Breeds from northern Oregon, southern Wyoming, southern Mani- toba, and central Quebec south to Patagonia; winters from northern California and Gulf States southward. Given for a roosting place a suitable stand of leafy trees, especially ever- greens, conveniently near a stream or pond that harbors fish, frogs and tadpoles, and any locality may have its colony of night herons. As its name implies, this heron is a bird of the night, not leaving its roost till dusk, when, with frequent iteration of its hoarse quawk, it wings its way in the gathering gloom straight to its feeding place. So rarely is the bird about in daylight that a large colony may exist for years near a town or large city, and not above a dozen individuals have an inkling of its existence. True to its sociable instincts, the night heron by preference nests in colonies, and several pairs often place their rude nests of sticks in the same tree ; or, in the absence of trees, as in the extensive tule swamps of the far west, where other conditions are ideal for herons, they nest on the ground or on the prostrate tules, hundreds of pairs being associated together. This heron sometimes feeds on field mice, but it eats too many fish to please the fishculturist, and after it has once learned the way to a hatchery strong meas- ures are needed to discourage its activities. 517 The Gambel's Quail (Lophortyx gambeli) By Sylvester D. Judd Length ; Ten inches. Range: Desert region of southern California, southern Nevada, Arizona, and southwestern Utah, east to the southwestern corner of Colorado ; also in southwestern New Mexico to the Rio (irande \'alley and the El Paso region of extreme western Texas, and s(jutli into the northeastern corner of Lower Cali- fornia and to Guaymas, Sonora. Though ditifcring markedly in coloration from the \alley qnail of the Pacific coast, Gambel's (|uail so closely resembles that bird in size and general habits that in my mind the two are inseparable. That the quail themselves are sometimes misled by the likeness would appear from the fact that the two readily hybridize, and I have seen a number of the hybrids from southeastern California. This ([uail prefers canon bottoms and rocky hillsides for hunting grounds, and the speed with which the individuals of a frightened covey can make good their escape among rocks and bushes is surprising. Gambel's quail trusts for safety first to its legs and only secondly to its wings, while it is rare indeed that it resorts to Bob- white's favorite ruse of close hiding. Ordinarily in fall it associates in large bands — they can scarcely be called coveys, since they are the aggregate of many coveys — and under these circumstances the pot hunter who cannot slay his scores must indeed be a bungler. Gambel's quail is no stranger in vineyard and garden, although for the most part it frequents scantily inhabited districts. In one respect both Gambel's and the California valley quail have greatly the advantage over Bob-white since, if these two western species ever roosted on the ground, they long ago abandoned the habit in favor of trees an