See also the Grayish Green and the Grayish
Brown Birds, particularly the Cedar Bird,
several Swallows, the Acadian and the Yellow-bellied
Flycatchers; Alice's and the Olive-backed
Thrushes; the Louisiana Water Thrush; the
Blue-gray Gnatcatcher; and the Seaside Sparrow.
See also the females of the following birds:
Pine Grosbeak; White-winged Red Crossbill;
Purple Martin; and the Nashville, the Pine,
and the Magnolia Warblers.
CHIMNEY SWIFT
(Chaetura pelagica) Swift family
|
Called also: CHIMNEY SWALLOW; AMERICAN SWIFT
Length -- to 5.45 inches. About an inch shorter
than the English sparrow. Long wings make
its length appear greater. Male and Female
-- Deep sooty gray; throat of a trifle lighter
gray. Wings extend an inch and a half beyond
the even tail, which has sharply pointed
and very elastic quills, that serve as props.
Feet are muscular, and have exceedingly sharp
claws. Range -- Peculiar to North America
east of the Rockies, and from Labrador to
Panama. Migrations -- April. September or
October. Common summer resident.
The chimney swift is, properly speaking,
not a swallow at all, though chimney swallow
is its more popular name. Rowing towards
the roof of your house, as if it used first
one wing, then the other, its flight, while
swift and powerful, is stiff and mechanical,
unlike the swallow's, and its entire aspect
suggests a bat. The nighthawk and whippoorwill
are its relatives, and it resembles them
not a little, especially in its nocturnal
habits.
So much fault has been found with the misleading
names of many birds, it is pleasant to record
the fact that the name of the chimney swift
is everything it ought to be. No other birds
can surpass and few can equal it in its powerful
flight, sometimes covering a thousand miles
in twenty-four hours, it is said, and never
resting except in its roosting places (hollow
trees or chimneys of dwellings), where it
does not perch, but rather clings to the
sides with its sharp claws, partly supported
by its sharper tail. Audubon tells of a certain
plane tree in Kentucky where he counted over
nine thousand of these swifts clinging to
the hollow trunk.
Their nest, which is a loosely woven twig
lattice, made of twigs of trees, which the
birds snap off with their beaks and carry
in their beaks, is glued with the bird's
saliva or tree-gum into a solid structure,
and firmly attached to the inside of chimneys,
or hollow trees where there are no houses
about. Two broods in a season usually emerge
from the pure white, elongated eggs.
What a twittering there is in the chimney
that the swifts appropriate after the winter
fires have died out! Instead of the hospitable
column of smoke curling from the top, a cloud
of sooty birds wheels and floats above it.
A sound as of distant thunder fills the chimney
as a host of these birds, startled, perhaps,
by some indoor noise, whirl their way upward.
Woe betide the happy colony if a sudden cold
snap in early summer necessitates the starting
of a fire on the hearth by the unsuspecting
householder! The glue being melted by the
fire, "down comes the cradle, babies
and all" into the glowing embers. A
prolonged, heavy rain also causes their nests
to loosen their hold and fall with the soot
to the bottom.
Thrifty New England housekeepers claim that
bedbugs, commonly found on bats, infest the
bodies of swifts also, which is one reason
why wire netting is stretched across the
chimney tops before the birds arrive from
the South. |
KINGBIRD
(Tyrannus tyrannus) Flycatcher family
|
Called also: TYRANT FLYCATCHER; BEE MARTIN;
[EASTERN KINGBIRD, AOU 1998]
Length -- 8 inches. About two inches shorter
than the robin. Male -- Ashy black above;
white, shaded with ash-color, beneath A concealed
crest of orange-red on crown. Tail black,
Terminating with a white band conspicuous
in flight. Wing feathers edged with white.
Feet and bill black. Female -- Similar to
the male, but lacking the crown. Range --
United States to the Rocky Mountains. British
provinces To Central and South America. Migrations
-- May. September. Common summer resident.
If the pugnacious propensity of the kingbird
is the occasion of its royal name, he cannot
be said to deserve it from any fine or noble
qualities he possesses. He is a born fighter
from the very love of it, without provocation,
rhyme, or reason. One can but watch with
a degree of admiration his bold sallies on
the big, black crow or the marauding hawk,
but when he bullies the small inoffensive
birds in wanton attacks for sheer amusement,
the charge is less entertaining. Occasionally,
when the little victim shows pluck and faces
his assailant, the kingbird will literally
turn tail and show the white feather. His
method of attack is always when a bird is
in flight; then he swoops down from the telegraph
pole or high point of vantage, and strikes
on the head or back of the neck, darting
back like a flash to the exact spot from
which he started. By these tactics he avoids
a return blow and retreats from danger. He
never makes a fair hand-to-hand fight, or
whatever is equivalent in bird warfare. It
is a satisfaction to record that he does
not attempt to give battle to the catbird,
but whenever in view makes a grand detour
to give him a wide berth.
The kingbird feeds on beetles, canker-worms,
and winged insects, with an occasional dessert
of berries. He is popularly supposed to prefer
the honeybee as his favorite tidbit, but
the weight of opinion is adverse to the charge
of his depopulating the beehive, even though
he owes his appellation bee martin to this
tradition. One or two ornithologists declare
that he selects only the drones fur his diet,
which would give him credit for marvellous
sight in his rapid motion through the air.
The kingbird is preeminently a bird of the
garden and orchard. The nest is open, though
deep, and not carefully concealed. Eggs are
nearly round, bluish white spotted with brown
and lilac. With truly royal exclusiveness,
the tyrant favors no community of interest,
but sits in regal state on a conspicuous
throne, and takes his grand flights alone
or with his queen, but never with a flock
of his kind. |
WOOD PEWEE
(Contopus virens) Flycatcher family
|
Length -- 6.50 inches. A trifle larger
than the English sparrow. Male -- Dusky brownish
olive above, darkest on head; paler on throat,
lighter still underneath, and with a yellowish
tinge on the dusky gray under parts. Dusky
wings and tail, the wing coverts tipped with
soiled white, forming two indistinct bars.
Whitish eye-ring. Wings longer than tail.
Female -- Similar, but slightly more buff
underneath. Range -- Eastern North America,
from Florida to northern British provinces.
Winters in Central America. Migrations --
May. October. Common summer resident
The wood pewee, like the olive-sided flycatcher,
has wings decidedly longer than its tail,
and it is by no means a simple matter for
the novice to tell these birds apart or separate
them distinctly in the mind from the other
members of a family whose coloring and habits
are most confusingly similar. This dusky
haunter of tall shady trees has not yet learned
to be sociable like the phoebe; but while
it may not be so much in evidence close to
our homes, it is doubtless just as common.
The orchard is as near the house as it often
cares to come. An old orchard, where modern
insecticides are unknown and neglect allows
insects to riot among the decayed bark and
fallen fruit, is a happy hunting ground enough;
but the bird's real preferences are decidedly
for high tree-tops in the woods, where no
sunshine touches the feathers on his dusky
coat. It is one of the few shade-loving birds.
In deep solitudes, where it surely retreats
by nesting time, however neighborly it may
be during the migrations, its pensive, pathetic
notes, long drawn out, seem like the expression
of some hidden sorrow. Pe-a-wee, pe-a-wee,
pewee-ah-peer is the burden of its plaintive
song, a sound as depressing as it is familiar
in every walk through the woods, and the
bird's most prominent characteristic.
To see the bird dashing about in his aerial
chase for insects, no one would accuse him
of melancholia. He keeps an eye on the "main
chance," whatever his preying grief
may be, and never allows it to affect his
appetite. Returning to his perch after a
successful sally in pursuit of the passing
fly, he repeats his "sweetly solemn
thought" over and over again all day
long and every day throughout the summer.
The wood pewees show that devotion to each
other and to their home, characteristic of
their family. Both lovers work on the construction
of the flat nest that is saddled on some
mossy or lichen-covered limb, and so cleverly
do they cover the rounded edge with bits
of bark and lichen that sharp eyes only can
detect where the cradle lies. Creamy-white
eggs, whose larger end is wreathed with brown
and lilac spots, are guarded with fierce
solicitude.
Trowbridge has celebrated this bird in a
beautiful poem. |
PHOEBE
(Sayornis phoebe) Flycatcher family
|
Called also: DUSKY FLYCATCHER; BRIDGE PEWEE;
WATER PEWEE; [EASTERN PHOEBE, AOU 1998]
Length -- 7 inches. About an inch longer
than the English sparrow. Male and Female
-- Dusky olive -- brown above darkest on
head, Which is slightly crested. Wings and
tail dusky, the outer edges of some tail
feathers whitish. Dingy yellowish white underneath.
Bill and feet black. Range -- North America,
from Newfoundland to the South Atlantic States,
and westward to the Rockies. Winters south
of the Carolinas, into Mexico, Central America,
and the West Indies. Migrations -- March.
October. Common summer resident.
The earliest representative of the flycatcher
family to come out of the tropics where insect
life fairly swarms and teems, what does the
friendly little phoebe find to attract him
to the north in March while his prospective
dinners must all be still in embryo? He looks
dejected, it is true, as he sits solitary
and silent on some projecting bare limb in
the garden, awaiting the coming of his tardy
mate; nevertheless, the date of his return
will not vary by more than a few days in
a given locality year after year. Why birds
that are mated for life, as these are said
to be, and such devoted lovers, should not
travel together on their journey north, is
another of the many mysteries of bird-life
awaiting solution.
The reunited, happy couple go about the garden
and outbuildings like domesticated wrens,
investigating the crannies on piazzas, where
people may be coming and going, and boldly
entering barn-lofts to find a suitable site
for the nest that it must take much of both
time and skill to build.
Pewit, phoebe, phoebe; pewit, phoebe, they
contentedly but rather monotonously sing
as they investigate all the sites in the
neighborhood. Presently a location is chosen
under a beam or rafter, and the work of collecting
moss and mud for the foundation and hair
and feathers or wool to line the exquisite
little home begins. But the labor is done
cheerfully, with many a sally in midair either
to let off superfluous high spirits or to
catch a morsel on the wing, and with many
a vivacious outburst of what by courtesy
only we may name a song.
When not domesticated, as these birds are
rapidly becoming, the phoebes dearly love
a cool, wet woodland retreat. Here they hunt
and bathe; here they also build in a rocky
bank or ledge of rocks or underneath a bridge,
but always with clever adaptation of their
nest to its surroundings, out of which it
seems a natural growth. It is one of the
most finished, beautiful nests ever found.
A pair of phoebes become attached to a spot
where they have once nested; they never stray
far from it, and return to it regularly,
though they may not again occupy the old
nest. This is because it soon becomes infested
with lice from the hen's feathers used in
lining it, for which reason too close relationship
with this friendly bird-neighbor is discouraged
by thrifty housekeepers. When the baby birds
have come out from the four or six little
white eggs, their helpless bodies are mercilessly
attacked by parasites, and are often so enfeebled
that half the brood die. The next season
another nest will be built near the first,
the following summer still another, until
it would appear that a colony of birds had
made their homes in the place.
Throughout the long summer -- for as the
phoebe is the first flycatcher to come, so
it is the last to go -- the bird is a tireless
hunter of insects, which it catches on the
wing with a sharp click of its beak like
the other members of its dexterous family.
Say's Phoebe (Sayornis saya) is the Western
representative of the Eastern species, which
it resembles in coloring and many of its
habits. It is the bird of the open plains,
a tireless hunter in midair sallies from
an isolated perch, and has the same vibrating
motion of the tail that the Eastern phoebe
indulges in when excited. This bird differs
chiefly in its lighter coloring, but not
in habits, from the black pewee of the Pacific
slope. |
GREAT-CRESTED FLYCATCHER
(Myiarchus crinitus) Flycatcher family
|
Called also: CRESTED FLYCATCHER; [GREAT
CRESTED FLYCATCHER, AOU 1998]
Length -- 8.50 to 9 inches. A little smaller
than the robin. Male and female -- Feathers
of the head pointed and erect. Upper parts
dark grayish-olive, inclining to rusty brown
on wings and tail. Wing coverts crossed with
two irregular bars of yellowish white. Throat
gray, shading into sulphur-yellow underneath,
that also extends under the wings. Inner
vane of several tail quills rusty red. Bristles
at base of bill. Range -- From Mexico, Central
America, and West Indies northward to southern
Canada and westward to the plains. Most common
in Mississippi basin; common also in eastern
United States, south of New England. Migrations
-- May. September. Common summer resident.
The most dignified and handsomely dressed
member of his family, the crested flycatcher
has, nevertheless, an air of pensive melancholy
about him when in repose that can be accounted
for only by the pain he must feel every time
he hears himself screech. His harsh, shrill
call, louder and more disagreeable than the
kingbird's, cannot but rasp his ears as it
does ours. And yet it is chiefly by this
piercing note, given with a rising inflection,
that we know the bird is in our neighborhood;
for he is somewhat of a recluse, and we must
often follow the disagreeable noise to its
source in the tree-tops before we can catch
a glimpse of the screecher. Perched on a
high lookout, he appears morose and sluggish,
in spite of his aristocratic-looking crest,
trim figure, and feathers that must seem
rather gay to one of his dusky tribe. A low
soliloquy, apparently born of discontent,
can be overheard from the foot of his tree.
But another second, and he has dashed off
in hot pursuit of an insect flying beyond
our sight, and with extremely quick, dexterous
evolutions in midair, he finishes the hunt
with a sharp click of his bill as it closes
over the unhappy victim, and then he returns
to his perch. On the wing he is exceedingly
active and joyous; in the tree he appears
just the reverse. That he is a domineering
fellow, quite as much of a tyrant as the
notorious kingbird, that bears the greater
burden of opprobrium, is shown in the fierce
way he promptly dashes at a feathered stranger
that may have alighted too near his perch,
and pursues it beyond the bounds of justice,
all the while screaming his rasping cry into
the intruder's ears, that must pierce as
deep as the thrusts from his relentless beak.
He has even been known to drive off woodpeckers
and bluebirds from the hollows in the trees
that he, like them, chooses for a nest, and
appropriate the results of their labor for
his scarcely less belligerent mate. With
a slight but important and indispensable
addition, the stolen nest is ready to receive
her four cream-colored eggs, that look as
if a pen dipped in purple ink had been scratched
over them.
The fact that gives the great-crested flycatcher
a unique interest among all North American
birds is that it invariably lines its nest
with snake-skins if one can be had. Science
would scarcely be worth the studying if it
did not set our imaginations to work delving
for plausible reasons for Nature's strange
doings. Most of us will doubtless agree with
Wilson (who made a special study of these
interesting nests and never found a single
one without cast snake-skins in it, even
in districts where snakes were so rare they
were supposed not to exist at all), that
the lining was chosen to terrorize all intruders.
The scientific mind that is unwilling to
dismiss any detail of Nature's work as merely
arbitrary and haphazard, is greatly exercised
over the reason for the existence of crests
on birds. But, surely, may not the sight
of snake-skins that first greet the eyes
of the fledgling flycatchers as they emerge
from the shell be a good and sufficient reason
why the feathers on their little heads should
stand on end? "In the absence of a snake-skin,
I have found an onion skin and shad scales
in the nest," says John Burroughs, who
calls this bird "the wild Irishman of
the flycatchers." |
OLIVE-SIDED FLYCATCHER
(Contotus borealis) Flycatcher family
|
Length -- 7 to inches. About an inch
longer than the English sparrow. Male and
Female -- Dusky olive or grayish brown above;
head darkest. Wings and tail blackish brown,
the former sometimes, but not always, margined
and tipped with dusky white. Throat yellowish
white; other under parts slightly lighter
shade than above. Olive-gray on sides. A
tuft of yellowish-white, downy feathers on
flanks. Bristles at base of bill. Range --
From Labrador to Panama. Winters in the tropics.
Nests usually north of United States, but
it also breeds in the Catskills. Migrations
-- May. September Resident only in northern
part of Its range.
Only in the migrations may people south of
Massachusetts hope to see this flycatcher,
which can be distinguished from the rest
of its kin by the darker under parts, and
by the fluffy, yellowish-white tufts of feathers
on its flanks. Its habits have the family
characteristics: it takes its food on the
wing, suddenly sallying forth from its perch,
darting about midair to seize its prey, then
as suddenly returning to its identical point
of vantage, usually in some distended, dead
limb in the tree-top; it is pugnacious, bold,
and tyrannical; mopish and inert when not
on the hunt, but wonderfully alert and swift
when in pursuit of insect or feathered foe.
The short necks of the flycatchers make their
heads appear large for their bodies, a peculiarity
slightly emphasized in this member of the
family. High up in some evergreen tree, well
out on a branch, over which the shapeless
mass of twigs and moss that serves as a nest
is saddled, four or five buff-speckled eggs
are laid, and by some special dispensation
rarely fall out of their insecure cradle.
A sharp, loud whistle, wheu--o-wheu-o-wheu-o,
rings out from the throat of this olive-sided
tyrant, warning all intruders off the premises;
but however harshly he may treat the rest
of the feathered world, he has only gentle
devotion to offer his brooding mate. |
LEAST FLYCATCHER
(Empidonax minimus) Flycatcher family
|
Called also: CHEBEC
Length -- 5 to 5.5 inches. About an inch
smaller than the English sparrow. Male --
Gray or olive-gray above, paler on wings
and lower part of back, and a more distinct
olive-green on head. Underneath grayish white,
sometimes faintly suffused with pale yellow.
wings have whitish bars. White eye-ring.
Lower half of bill horn color. Female is
slightly more yellowish underneath. Range
-- Eastern North America, from tropics northward
to Quebec, Migrations -- May. September.
Common summer resident.
This, the smallest member of its family,
takes the place of the more southerly Acadian
flycatcher, throughout New England and the
region of the Great Lakes. But, unlike his
Southern relative, he prefers orchards and
gardens close to our homes for his hunting
grounds rather than the wet recesses of the
forests. Che-bec, che-bec, the diminutive
olive-pated gray sprite calls out from the
orchard between his aerial sallies after
the passing insects that have been attracted
by the decaying fruit, and chebec is the
name by which many New Englanders know him.
While giving this characteristic call-note,
with drooping jerking tail, trembling wings,
and uplifted parti-colored bill, he looks
unnerved and limp by the effort it has cost
him. But in the next instant a gnat flies
past. How quickly the bird recovers itself,
and charges full-tilt at his passing dinner!
The sharp click of his little bill proves
that he has not missed his aim; and after
careering about in the air another minute
or two, looking for more game to snap up
on the wing, he will return to the same perch
and take up his familiar refrain. Without
hearing this call-note one might often mistake
the bird for either the wood pewee or the
phoebe, for all the three are similarly clothed
and have many traits in common. The slightly
large size of the phoebe and pewee is not
always apparent when they are seen perching
on the trees. Unlike the "tuft of hay"
to which the Acadian flycatcher's nest has
been likened, the least flycatcher's home
is a neat, substantial cup-shaped cradle
softly lined with down or horsehair, and
placed generally in an upright crotch of
a tree, well above the ground. |
THE CHICKADEE
(Parus atricapillus) Titmouse family
|
Called also: BLACK-CAPPED TITMOUSE; BLACK-CAP
TIT; [BLACK-CAPPED CHICKADEE, AOU 1998]
Length -- 5 to 5.5 inches. About an inch
smaller than the English sparrow. Male and
Female -- Not crested. Crown and nape and
throat black. Above gray, slightly tinged
with brown. A white space, beginning at base
of bill, extends backwards, widening over
cheeks and upper part of breast, forming
a sort of collar that almost surrounds neck.
Underneath dirty white. with pale rusty brown
wash on sides. Wings and tail gray. with
white edgings. Plumage downy. Range -- Eastern
North America. North of the Carolinas to
Labrador. Does not migrate in the North.
Migrations -- Late September. May. Winter
resident; permanent resident in northern
parts of the United States.
No "fair weather friend" is the
jolly little chickadee. In the depth of the
autumn equinoctial storm it returns to the
tops of the trees close by the house, where,
through the sunshine, snow, and tempest of
the entire winter, you may hear its cheery,
irrepressible chickadee-dee-dee-dee or day-day-day
as it swings Around the dangling cones of
the evergreens. It fairly overflows with
good spirits, and is never more contagiously
gay than in a snowstorm. So active, so friendly
and cheering, what would the long northern
winters be like without this lovable little
neighbor?
It serves a more utilitarian purpose, however,
than bracing faint-hearted spirits. "There
is no bird that compares with it in destroying
the female canker-worm moths and their eggs,"
writes a well-known entomologist. He calculates
that as a chickadee destroys about 5,500
eggs in one day, it will eat 138,750 eggs
in the twenty-five days it takes the canker-worm
moth to crawl up the trees. The moral that
it pays to attract chickadees about your
home by feeding them in winter is obvious.
Mrs. Mabel Osgood Wright, in her delightful
and helpful book "Birdcraft," tells
us how she makes a sort of a bird-hash of
finely minced raw meat, waste canary-seed,
buckwheat, and cracked oats, which she scatters
in a sheltered spot for all the winter birds.
The way this is consumed leaves no doubt
of its popularity. A raw bone, hung from
an evergreen limb, is equally appreciated.
Friendly as the chickadee is and Dr. Abbott
declares it the tamest bird we have it prefers
well-timbered districts, especially where
there are red-bud trees, when it is time
to nest. It is very often clever enough to
leave the labor of hollowing out a nest in
the tree-trunk to the woodpecker or nuthatch,
whose old homes it readily appropriates;
or, when these birds object, a knot-hole
or a hollow fence-rail answers every purpose.
Here, in the summer woods, when family cares
beset it, a plaintive, minor whistle replaces
the chickadee-dee-dee that Thoreau likens
to "silver tinkling" as he heard
it on a frosty morning.
"Piped a tiny voice near by, Gay and
polite, a cheerful cry Chick-chickadeedee!
saucy note Out of sound heart and merry throat,
As if it said, 'Good-day, good Sir! Fine
afternoon, old passenger! Happy to meet you
in these places Where January brings few
faces.'" -- Emerson. |
TUFTED TITMOUSE
(Parus bicolor) Titmouse family
|
Called also: CRESTED TITMOUSE; CRESTED TOMTIT
Length -- 6 to 6. inches. About the size
of the English sparrow. Male and Female --
Crest high and pointed. Leaden or ash-gray
above; darkest on wings and tail. Frontlet,
bill, and shoulders black; space between
eyes gray. Sides of head dull white. Under
parts light gray; sides yellowish, tinged
with red. Range -- United States east of
plains, and only rarely seen so far north
as New England. Migrations -- October. April.
Winter resident, but also found throughout
the year in many States.
"A noisy titmouse is Jack Frost's trumpeter"
may be one of those few weather-wise proverbs
with a grain of truth in them. As the chickadee
comes from the woods with the frost, so it
may be noticed his cousin, the crested titmouse,
is in more noisy evidence throughout the
winter.
One might sometimes think his whistle, like
a tugboat's, worked by steam. But how effectually
nesting cares alone can silence it in April!
Titmice always see to it you are not lonely
as you walk through the woods. This lordly
tomtit, with his jaunty crest, keeps up a
persistent whistle at you as he flits from
tree to tree, leading you deeper into the
forest, calling out "Here-here-here!',
and looking like a pert and jaunty little
blue jay, minus his gay clothes. Mr. Nehrling
translates one of the calls "Heedle-deedle-deedle-dee!"
and another "Peto-peto-peto-daytee-daytee!"
But it is at the former, sharply whistled
as the crested titmouse gives it, that every
dog pricks up his ears.
Comparatively little has been written about
this bird, because it is not often found
in New England, where most of the bird litterateurs
have lived. South of New York State, however,
it is a common resident, and much respected
for the good work it does in destroying injurious
insects, though it is more fond of varying
its diet with nuts, berries, and seeds than
that all-round benefactor, the chickadee.
|
CANADA JAY
(Perisoreus canadensis) Crow and Jay family
|
Called also: WHISKY JACK OR JOHN; MOOSE-BIRD;
MEAT BIRD; VENISON HERON; GREASE-BIRD; CANADIAN
CARRION-BIRD; CAMP ROBBER; [GRAY JAY, AOU
1998]
Length -- 11 to 12 inches. About two inches
larger than the robin. Male and Female --
Upper p arts gray; darkest on wings and tail;
back of the head and nape of the neck sooty,
almost black. Forehead, throat, and neck
white, and a few white tips on wings and
tail. Underneath lighter gray. Tail long.
Plumage fluffy. Range -- Northern parts of
the United States and British Provinces of
North America. Migrations -- Resident where
found.
The Canada jay looks like an exaggerated
chickadee, and both birds are equally fond
of bitter cold weather, but here the similarity
stops short. Where the chickadee is friendly
the jay is impudent and bold; hardly less
of a villain than his blue relative when
it comes to marauding other birds' nests
and destroying their young. With all his
vices, however, intemperance cannot be attributed
to him, in spite of the name given him by
the Adirondack lumbermen and guides. "Whisky
John" is a purely innocent corruption
of "Wis-ka-tjon," as the Indians
call this bird that haunts their camps and
familiarly enters their wigwams. The numerous
popular names by which the Canada jays are
known are admirably accounted for by Mr.
Hardy in a bulletin issued by the Smithsonian
Institution.
"They will enter the tents, and often
alight on the bow of a canoe, where the paddle
at every stroke comes within eighteen inches
of them. I know nothing which can be eaten
that they will not take, and I had one steal
all my candles, pulling them out endwise,
one by one, from a piece of birch bark in
which they were rolled, and another peck
a large hole in a keg of castile soap. A
duck which I had picked and laid down for
a few minutes, had the entire breast eaten
out by one or more of these birds. I have
seen one alight in the middle of my canoe
and peck away at the carcass of a beaver
I had skinned. They often spoil deer saddles
by pecking into them near the kidneys. They
do great damage to the trappers by stealing
the bait from traps set for martens and minks
and by eating trapped game. They will sit
quietly and see you build a log trap and
bait it, and then, almost before your back
is turned, you hear their hateful ca-ca-ca!
as they glide down and peer into it. They
will work steadily, carrying off meat and
hiding it. I have thrown out pieces, and
watched one to see how much he would carry
off. He flew across a wide stream, and in
a short time looked as bloody as a butcher
from carrying large pieces; but his patience
held out longer than mine. I think one would
work as long as Mark Twain's California jay
did trying to fill a miner's cabin with acorns
through a knot-hole in the root. They are
fond of the berries of the mountain ash,
and, in fact, few things come amiss; I believe
they do not possess a single good quality
except industry."
One virtue not mentioned by Mr. Hardy is
their prudent saving from the summer surplus
to keep the winter storeroom well supplied
like a squirrel's. Such thrift is the more
necessary when a clamorous, hungry family
of young jays must be reared while the thermometer
is often as low as thirty degrees below zero
at the end of March. How eggs are ever hatched
at all in a temperature calculated to freeze
any sitting bird stiff, is one of the mysteries
of the woods. And yet four or five fluffy
little jays, that look as if they were dressed
in gray fur, emerge from the eggs before
the spring sunshine has unbound the icy rivers
or melted the snowdrifts piled high around
the evergreens. |
CATBIRD
(Galcoscoptes carolinensis ) Mocking-bird
family
|
Called also: BLACK-CAPPED THRUSH; [GRAY CATBIRD,
AOU 1998]
Length -- 9 inches. An inch shorter than
the robin. Male and Female -- Dark slate
above; below somewhat paler; top of head
black. Distinct chestnut patch under the
tail, which is black; feet and bill black
also. Wings short, more than two inches shorter
than the tail. Range -- British provinces
to Mexico; west to Rocky Mountains, to Pacific
coast. Winters in Southern States, Central
America, and Cuba. Migrations -- May. November.
Common summer resident,
Our familiar catbird, of all the feathered
tribe, presents the most contrary characteristics,
and is therefore held in varied estimation
-- loved, admired, ridiculed, abused. He
is the veriest "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"
of birds. Exquisitely proportioned, with
finely poised black head and satin-gray coat,
which he bathes most carefully and prunes
and prinks by the hour, he appears from his
toilet a Beau Brummell, an aristocratic-looking,
even dandified neighbor. Suddenly, as if
shot, he drops head and tail and assumes
the most hang-dog air, without the least
sign of self-respect; then crouches and lengthens
into a roll, head forward and tail straightened,
till he looks like a little, short gray snake,
lank and limp. Anon, with a jerk and a sprint,
every muscle tense, tail erect, eyes snapping,
he darts into the air intent upon some well-planned
mischief. It is impossible to describe his
various attitudes or moods. In song and call
he presents the same opposite characteristics.
How such a bird, exquisite in style, can
demean himself to utter such harsh, altogether
hateful catcalls and squawks as have given
the bird his common name, is a wonder when
in the next moment his throat swells and
beginning phut-phut-coquillicot, he gives
forth a long glorious song, only second to
that of the wood thrush in melody. He is
a jester, a caricaturist, a mocking-bird.
The catbird's nest is like a veritable scrap-basket,
loosely woven of coarse twigs, bits of newspaper,
scraps, and rags, till this rough exterior
is softly lined and made fit to receive the
four to six pretty dark green-blue eggs to
be laid therein.
As a fruit thief harsh epithets are showered
upon the friendly, confiding little creature
at our doors; but surely his depredations
may be pardoned, for he is industrious at
all times and unusually adroit in catching
insects, especially in the moth stage. |
THE MOCKING-BIRD
(Mimus polyglottus) Mocking-bird family
|
[Called also: NORTHERN MOCKINGBIRD, AOU 1998]
Length -- 9 to 10 inches. About the size
of the robin. Male and Female -- Gray above;
wings and wedge-shaped; tail brownish; upper
wing feathers tipped with white; outer tail
quills white, conspicuous in flight; chin
white; underneath light gray, shading to
whitish. Range -- Peculiar to torrid and
temperate zones of two Americas. Migrations
-- No fixed migrations: usually resident
where seen.
North of Delaware this commonest of Southern
birds is all too rarely seen outside of cages,
yet even in midwinter it is not unknown in
Central Park, New York. This is the angel
that it is said the catbird was before he
fell from grace. Slim, neat, graceful, imitative,
amusing, with a rich, tender song that only
the thrush can hope to rival, and with an
instinctive preference for the society of
man, it is little wonder he is a favorite,
caged or free. He is a most devoted parent,
too, when the four or six speckled green
eggs have produced as many mouths to be supplied
with insects and berries.
In the Connecticut Valley, where many mocking-birds'
nests have been found, year after year, they
are all seen near the ground, and without
exception are loosely, poorly constructed
affairs of leaves, feathers, grass, and even
rags.
With all his virtues, it must be added, however,
that this charming bird is a sad tease. 'There
is no sound, whether made by bird or beast
about him, that he cannot imitate so clearly
as to deceive every one but himself. Very
rarely can you find a mocking-bird without
intelligence and mischief enough to appreciate
his ventriloquism. In Sidney Lanier's college
note-book was found written this reflection:
"A poet is the mocking-bird of the spiritual
universe. In him are collected all the individual
songs of all individual natures." Later
in life, with the same thought in mind, he
referred to the bird as "yon slim Shakespeare
on the tree." His exquisite stanzas,
"To Our Mocking-bird," exalt the
singer with the immortals:
"Trillets of humor, -- shrewdest whistle
-- wit -- Contralto cadences of grave desire,
Such as from off the passionate Indian pyre
Drift down through sandal-odored flames that
split About the slim young widow, who doth
sit And sing above, -- midnights of tone
entire, -- Tissues of moonlight, shot with
songs of fire; -- Bright drops of tune, from
oceans infinite Of melody, sipped off the
thin-edged wave And trickling down the beak,
-- discourses brave Of serious matter that
no man may guess, -- Good-fellow greetings,
cries of light distress -- All these but
now within the house we heard: O Death, wast
thou too deaf to hear the bird? . . . . .
"Nay, Bird; my grief gainsays the Lord's
best right. The Lord was fain, at some late
festal time, That Keats should set all heaven's
woods in rhyme, And Thou in bird-notes. Lo,
this tearful night Methinks I see thee, fresh
from Death's despite, Perched in a palm-grove,
wild with pantomime O'er blissful companies
couched in shady thyme. Methinks I hear thy
silver whistlings bright Meet with the mighty
discourse of the wise, -- 'Till broad Beethoven,
deaf no more, and Keats, 'Midst of much talk,
uplift their smiling eyes And mark the music
of thy wood-conceits, And half-way pause
on some large courteous word, And call thee
'Brother,' O thou heavenly Bird!" |
JUNCO
(Junco hyemalis) Finch family
|
Called also: SNOWBIRD; SLATE-COLORED SNOWBIRD;
[DARK-EYED JUNCO, AOU 1998]
Length -- 5.5 to 6.5 inches. About the size
of the English sparrow. Male -- Upper parts
slate-colored; darkest on head and neck,
which are sometimes almost black and marked
like a cowl. Gray on breast, like a vest.
Underneath white. Several outer tall feathers
white, conspicuous in flight. Female -- Lighter
gray, inclining to brown. Range -- North
America. Not common in warm latitudes. Breeds
in the Catskills and northern New England.
Migrations -- September. April. Winter resident.
"Leaden skies above; snow below,"
is Mr. Parkhurst's suggestive description
of this rather timid little neighbor, that
is only starved into familiarity. When the
snow has buried seed and berries, a flock
of juncos, mingling sociably with the sparrows
and chickadees about the kitchen door, will
pick up scraps of food with an intimacy quite
touching in a bird naturally rather shy.
Here we can readily distinguish these "little
gray-robed monks and nuns," as Miss
Florence Merriam calls them.
They are trim, sprightly, sleek, and even
natty; their dispositions are genial and
vivacious, not quarrelsome, like their sparrow
cousins, and what is perhaps best about them,
they are birds we may surely depend upon
seeing in the winter months. A few come forth
in September, migrating at night from the
deep woods of the north, where they have
nested and moulted during the summer; but
not until frost has sharpened the air are
large numbers of them seen. Rejoicing in
winter, they nevertheless do not revel in
the deep and fierce arctic blasts, as the
snowflakes do, but take good care to avoid
the open pastures before the hard storms
overtake them.
Early in the spring their song is sometimes
heard before they leave us to woo and to
nest in the north. Mr. Bicknell describes
it as "a crisp call-note, a simple trill,
and a faint, whispered warble, usually much
broken, but not without sweetness."
|
WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH
(Sitta carolinensis) Nuthatch family
|
Called also: TREE-MOUSE; DEVIL DOWNHEAD
Length -- 5.5 to 6 inches. A trifle smaller
than the English sparrow. Male and Female
-- Upper parts slate-color. Top of head and
nape black. Wings dark slate, edged with
black, that fades to brown. Tail feathers
brownish black, with white bars. Sides of
head and underneath white, shading to pale
reddish under the tail. (Female's head leaden.)
Body flat and compact. Bill longer than head.
Range -- British provinces to Mexico. Eastern
United States. Migrations -- October. April.
Common resident. Most prominent in winter.
"Shrewd little haunter of woods all
gray, Whom I meet on my walk of a winter
day -- You're busy inspecting each cranny
and hole In the ragged bark of yon hickory
bole; You intent on your task, and I on the
law Of your wonderful head and gymnastic
claw!
The woodpecker well may despair of this feat
-- Only the fly with you can compete! So
much is clear; but I fain would know How
you can so reckless and fearless go, Head
upward, head downward, all one to you, Zenith
and nadir the same in your view?" --
Edith M. Thomas.
Could a dozen lines well contain a fuller
description or more apt characterization
of a bird than these "To a Nuthatch"?
With more artless inquisitiveness than fear,
this lively little acrobat stops his hammering
or hatcheting at your approach, and stretching
himself out from the tree until it would
seem he must fall off, he peers down at you,
head downward, straight into your upturned
opera-glasses. If there is too much snow
on the upper side of a branch, watch how
he runs along underneath it like a fly, busily
tapping the bark, or adroitly breaking the
decayed bits with his bill, as he searches
for the spider's eggs, larvae, etc., hidden
there; yet somehow, between mouthfuls, managing
to call out his cheery quank! quank! hank!
hank!
Titmice and nuthatches, which have many similar
characteristics, are often seen in the most
friendly hunting parties on the same tree.
A pine woods is their dearest delight. There,
as the mercury goes down, their spirits only
seem to go up higher. In the spring they
have been thought by many to migrate in flocks,
whereas they are only retreating with their
relations away from the haunts of men to
the deep, cool woods, where they nest. With
infinite patience the nuthatch excavates
a hole in a tree, lining it with feathers
and moss, and often depositing as many as
ten white eggs speckled with red and lilac)
for a single brood. |
RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH
(Sitta canadensis) Nuthatch family
|
Called also: CANADA NUTHATCH
Length -- 4 to 4.75 inches. One-third smaller
than the English sparrow. Male -- Lead-colored
above; brownish on wings and tail. Head,
neck, and stripe passing through eye to shoulder,
black. Frontlet, chin, and shoulders white;
also a white stripe over eye, meeting on
brow. Under parts light, rusty red. Tail
feathers barred with white near end, and
tipped with pale brown. Female -- Has crown
of brownish black, and is lighter beneath
than male. Range -- Northern parts of North
America. Not often seen south of the most
northerly States. Migrations -- November.
April. Winter resident.
The brighter coloring of this tiny, hardy
bird distinguishes from the other and larger
nuthatch, with whom it is usually seen, for
the winter birds have a delightfully social
manner, so that a colony of these Free masons
is apt to contain not only both kinds of
nuthatches and chickadees, but kinglets and
brown creepers as well. It shares the family
habit of walking about the trees, head downward,
and running along the under side of limbs
like a fly. By Thanksgiving Day the quank!
quank! of the white-breasted species is answered
by the tai-tai-tait! of the red-breasted
cousin in the orchard, where the family party
is celebrating with an elaborate menu of
slugs, insects' eggs, and oily seeds from
the evergreen trees.
For many years this nuthatch, a more northern
species than the white-breasted bird, was
thought to be only a spring and autumn visitor,
but latterly it is credited with habits like
its congener's in nearly every particular.
|
LOGGERHEAD SHRIKE
(Lanius ludovicianus) Shrike family
|
Length -- 8.5 to 9 inches. A little smaller
than the robin. Male and Female -- Upper
parts gray; narrow black line across forehead,
connecting small black patches on sides of
head at base of bill. Wings and tail black,
plentifully marked with white, the outer
tail feathers often being entirely white
and conspicuous in flight. Underneath white
or very light gray. Bill hooked and hawk-like.
Range -- Eastern United States to the plains.
Migrations -- May. October. Summer resident.
It is not easy, even at a slight distance,
to distinguish the loggerhead from the Northern
shrike. Both have the pernicious habit of
killing insects and smaller birds and impaling
them on thorns; both have the peculiarity
of flying, with strong, vigorous flight and
much wing-flapping, close along the ground,
then suddenly rising to a tree, on the lookout
for prey. Their harsh, unmusical call-notes
are similar too, and their hawk-like method
of dropping suddenly upon a victim on the
ground below is identical. Indeed, the same
description very nearly answers for both
birds. But there is one very important difference.
While the Northern shrike is a winter visitor,
the loggerhead, being his Southern counterpart,
does not arrive until after the frost is
out of the ground, and he can be sure of
a truly warm welcome. A lesser distiction
between the only two representatives of the
shrike family that frequent our neighborhood
-- and they are two too many -- is in the
smaller size of the loggerhead and its lighter-gray
plumage. But as both these birds select some
high commanding position, like a distended
branch near the tree-top, a cupola, house-peak,
lightning-rod, telegraph wire, or weather-vane,
the better to detect a passing dinner, it
would be quite impossible at such a distance
to know which shrike was sitting up there
silently plotting villainies, without remembering
the season when each may be expected. |
NORTHERN SHRIKE
(Lanius borealis) Shrike family | Called also: BUTCHER-BIRD; NINE-KILLER
Length -- 9.5 to 10.5 inches. About the size
of the robin. Male -- Upper parts slate-gray;
wing quills and tail black, edged and tipped
with white, conspicuous in flight; a white
spot on centre of outer wing feathers. A
black band runs from bill, through eye to
side of throat. Light gray below, tinged
with brownish, and faintly marked with waving
lines of darker gray. Bill hooked and hawk-like.
Female -- With eye-band more obscure than
male's, and with More distinct brownish cast
on her plumage. Range -- Northern North America.
South in winter to middle Portion of United
States. Migrations -- November, April. A
roving winter resident.
"Matching the bravest of the brave among
birds of prey in deeds of daring, and no
less relentless than reckless, the shrike
compels that sort of deference, not unmixed
with indignation, we are accustomed to accord
to creatures of seeming insignificance whose
exploits demand much strength, great spirit,
and insatiate love for carnage. We cannot
be indifferent to the marauder who takes
his own wherever he finds it -- a feudal
baron who holds his own with undisputed sway
-- and an ogre whose victims are so many
more than he can eat, that he actually keeps
a private graveyard for the balance."
Who is honestly able to give the shrikes
a better character than Dr. Coues, just quoted?
A few offer them questionable defence by
recording the large numbers of English sparrows
they kill in a season, as if wanton carnage
were ever justifiable.
Not even a hawk itself can produce the consternation
among a flock of sparrows that the harsh,
rasping voice of the butcherbird creates,
for escape they well know to be difficult
before the small ogre swoops down upon his
victim, and carries it off to impale it on
a thorn or frozen twig, there to devour it
later piecemeal. Every shrike thus either
impales or else hangs up, as a butcher does
his meat, more little birds of many kinds,
field-mice, grasshoppers, and other large
insects than it can hope to devour in a week
of bloody orgies. Field-mice are perhaps
its favorite diet, but even snakes are not
disdained.
More contemptible than the actual slaughter
of its victims, if possible, is the method
by which the shrike often lures and sneaks
upon his prey. Hiding in a clump of bushes
in the meadow or garden, he imitates with
fiendish cleverness the call-notes of little
birds that come in cheerful response, hopping
and flitting within easy range of him. His
bloody work is finished in a trice. Usually,
however, it must be owned, the shrike's hunting
habits are the reverse of sneaking. Perched
on a point of vantage on some tree-top or
weather-vane, his hawk-like eye can detect
a grasshopper going through the grass fifty
yards away.
What is our surprise when, some fine warm
day in March, just before our butcher, ogre,
sneak, and fiend leaves us for colder regions,
to hear him break out into song! Love has
warmed even his cold heart, and with sweet,
warbled notes on the tip of a beak that but
yesterday was reeking with his victim's blood,
he starts for Canada, leaving behind him
the only good impression he has made during
a long winter's visit. |
BOHEMIAN WAXWING
(Ampelis garrulus) Waxwing family
|
Called also: BLACK-THROATED WAX WING; LAPLAND
WAX WING; SILKTAIL
Length -- 8 to 9.5 inches. A little smaller
than the robin. Male and Female -- General
color drab, with faint brownish wash above,
shading into lighter gray below. Crest conspicuous.
being nearly an inch and a half in length;
rufous at the base, shading into light gray
above, velvety-black forehead, chin, and
line through the eye. Wings grayish brown,
with very dark quills, which have two white
bars; the bar at the edge of the upper wing
coverts being tipped with red sealing-wax-like
points, that give the bird its name. A few
wing feathers tipped with yellow on outer
edge. Tail quills dark brown, with yellow
band across the end, and faint red streaks
on upper and inner sides. Range -- Northern
United States and British America. Most common
in Canada and northern Mississippi region.
Migrations -- Very irregular winter visitor.
When Charles Bonaparte, Prince of Canino,
who was the first to count this common waxwing
of Europe and Asia among the birds of North
America, published an account of it in his
"Synopsis," it was considered a
very rare bird indeed. It may be these waxwings
have greatly increased, but however uncommon
they may still be considered, certainly no
one who had ever seen a flock containing
more than a thousand of them, resting on
the trees of a lawn within sight of New York
City, as the writer has done, could be expected
to consider the birds "very rare."
The Bohemian waxwing, like the only other
member of the family that ever visits us,
the cedar-bird, is a roving gipsy. In Germany
they say seven years must elapse between
its visitations, which the superstitious
old cronies are wont to associate with woful
stories of pestilence -- just such tales
as are resurrected from the depths of morbid
memories here when a comet reappears or the
seven-year locust ascends from the ground.
The goings and comings of these birds are
certainly most erratic and infrequent; nevertheless,
when hunger drives them from the far north
to feast upon the juniper and other winter
berries of our Northern States, they come
in enormous flocks, making up in quantity
what they lack in re | |
