See the Red-winged Blackbird (Black). See
also the males of the Rose-breasted Grosbeak,
the Woodpeckers, the Chewink (Black and White),
the Red-breasted Nuthatch, the Bay-breasted
and the Chestnut-sided Warblers (Slate and
Gray); the Bluebird and Barn Swallow (Blue);
the Flicker (Brown); the Humming-bird and
the Kinglets (Greenish Gray); and the Blackburnian
and Redstart Warblers, and the Baltimore
Oriole (Orange).
CARDINAL GROSBEAK
(Cardinalis cardinalis) Finch family
|
Called also: CRESTED REDBIRD; VIRGINIA
REDBIRD; VIRGINIA NIGHTINGALE; CARDINAL
BIRD; [NORTHERN CARDINAL, AOU 1998]
Length -- 8 to 9 inches. A little
smaller than the robin. Male -- Brilliant
cardinal; chin and band around bill black.
Beak stout and red. Crest conspicuous.
In winter dress, wings washed with
gray. Female -- Brownish yellow above, shading
to gray below. Tail shorter than the
male's. Crest, wings, and tail reddish. Breast sometimes
tinged with red. Range -- Eastern United
States. A Southern bird, becoming more
and more common during the summer in States
north of Virginia, especially in Ohio,
south of which it is resident throughout
the year. Migrations -- Resident
rather than migrating birds, remaining
throughout the winter in localities where
they have found their way. Travel in flocks.
Among the numerous names by which
this beautiful bird is known, it has become
immortalized under the title of Mr. James
Lane Allen's exquisite book, "The Kentucky
Cardinal." Here, while we are given
a most charmingly sympathetic, delicate account
of the bird "who has only to be seen
or heard, and Death adjusts an arrow,"
it is the cardinal's pathetic fate that impresses
one most. Seen through less poetical eyes,
however, the bird appears to be a haughty
autocrat, a sort of "F. F. V."
among the feathered tribes, as, indeed, his
title, "Virginia redbird," has
been unkindly said to imply. Bearing himself
with a refined and courtly dignity, not stooping
to soil his feet by walking on the ground
like the more democratic robin, or even condescending
below the level of the laurel bushes, the
cardinal is literally a shining example of
self-conscious superiority -- a bird to call
forth respect and admiration rather than
affection. But a group of cardinals in a
cedar tree in a snowy winter landscape makes
us forgetful of everything but their supreme
beauty.
As might be expected in one of the
finch family, the cardinal is a songster
-- the fact which, in connection with his
lovely plumage, accounts for the number of
these birds shipped in cages to Europe, where
they are known as Virginia nightingales.
Commencing with a strong, rich whistle, like
the high notes of a fife, "Cheo-cheo-cheo-cheo,"
repeated over and over as if to make perfect
the start of a song he is about to sing,
suddenly he stops, and you learn that there
is to be no glorious performance after all,
only a prelude to -- nothing. The song, such
as it is, begins, with both male and female,
in March, and lasts, with a brief intermission,
until September -- "the most melodious
sigh," as Mr. Allen calls it. Early
in May the cardinals build a bulky and loosely
made nest, usually in the holly, laurel,
or other evergreen shrubs that they always
love to frequent, especially if these are
near fields of corn or other grain. And often
two broods in a year come forth from the
pale-gray, brown-marked eggs, beating what
is literally for them the "fatal gift
of beauty." |
SUMMER TANAGER
(Piranga rubra) Tanager family
|
Called also: REDBIRD; SMOOTH-HEADED
REDBIRD
Length -- 7.5 inches. About one-fourth
smaller than the robin. Male -- Uniform red.
Wings and tail like the body. Female -- Upper
parts yellowish olive-green; underneath inclining
to orange-yellow. Range -- Tropical
portions of two Americas and eastern United
States. Most common in Southern States.
Rare north of Pennsylvania. Winters
in the tropics. Mirations -- In Southern
States: April. October. Irregular
migrant north of the Carolinas.
Thirty years ago, it is recorded that
so far north as New Jersey the summer redbird
was quite as common as any of the thrushes.
In the South still there is scarcely an orchard
that does not contain this tropical-looking
beauty -- the redbird par excellence, the
sweetest singer of the family. Is there a
more beautiful sight in all nature than a
grove of orange trees laden with fruit, starred
with their delicious blossoms, and with flocks
of redbirds disporting themselves among the
dark, glossy leaves? Pine and oak woods are
also favorite resorts, especially at the
north, where the bird nowadays forsakes the
orchards to hide his beauty, if he can, unharmed
by the rifle that only rarely is offered
so shining a mark. He shows the scarlet tanager's
preference for tree-tops, where his musical
voice, calling "Chicky-tucky-tuk,"
alone betrays his presence in the woods.
The Southern farmers declare that he is an
infallible weather prophet, his "wet,
WET, WET," being the certain indication
of rain -- another absurd saw, for the call-note
is by no means confined to the rainy season.
The yellowish-olive mate, whose quiet
colors betray no nest secrets, collects twigs
and grasses for the cradle to be saddled
on the end of some horizontal branch, though
in this work the male sometimes cautiously
takes an insignificant part. After her three
or four eggs are laid she sits upon them
for nearly two weeks, being only rarely and
stealthily visited by her mate with some
choice grub, blossom, or berry in his beak.
But how cheerfully his fife-like whistle
rings out during the temporary exile! Then
his song is at its best. Later in the summer
he has an aggravating way of joining in the
chorus of other birds' songs, by which the
pleasant individuality of his own voice is
lost.
A nest of these tanagers, observed
not far from New York City, was commenced
the last week of May on the extreme edge
of a hickory limb in an open wood; four eggs
were laid on the fourth of June, and twelve
days later the tiny fledglings, that all
look like their mother in the early stages
of their existence, burst from the greenish-white,
speckled shells. In less than a month the
young birds were able to fly quite well and
collect their food. |
SCARLET TANAGER
(Piranga erythromelas) Tanager family
|
Called also: BLACK-WINGED REDBIRD; FIREBIRD;
CANADA TANAGER; POCKET-BIRD
Length -- 7 to 7.5 inches. About one-fourth
smaller than the robin. Male -- In
spring plumage: Brilliant scarlet, with black
wings And tail. Under wing coverts
grayish white. In autumn: Similar
To female. Female -- Olive-green above; wings
and tail dark, lightly Margined with
olive. Underneath greenish yellow. Range
-- North America to northern Canada boundaries,
and southwardin winter to South America.
Migrations -- May. October. Summer resident
The gorgeous coloring of the scarlet
tanager has been its snare and destruction.
The densest evergreens could not altogether
hide this blazing target for the sportsman's
gun, too often fired at the instigation of
city milliners. "Fine feathers make
fine birds" -- and cruel, silly women,
the adage might be adapted for latter-day
use. This rarely beautiful tanager, thanks
to them, is now only an infrequent flash
of beauty in our country roads.
Instinct leads it to be chary of its
charms; and whereas it used to be one of
the commonest of bird neighbors, it is now
shy and solitary. An ideal resort for it
is a grove of oak or swamp maple near a stream
or pond where it can bathe. Evergreen trees,
too, are favorites, possibly because the
bird knows how exquisitely its bright scarlet
coat is set off by their dark background.
High in the tree-tops he perches,
all unsuspected by the visitor passing through
the woods below, until a burst of rich, sweet
melody directs the opera-glasses suddenly
upward. There we detect him carolling loud
and cheerfully, like a robin. He is an apparition
of beauty -- a veritable bird of paradise,
as, indeed, he is sometimes called. Because
of their similar coloring, the tanager and
cardinal are sometimes confounded, but an
instant's comparison of the two birds shows
nothing in common except red feathers, and
even those of quite different shades. The
inconspicuous olive-green and yellow of the
female tanager's plumage is another striking
instance of Nature's unequal distribution
of gifts; but if our bright-colored birds
have become shockingly few under existing
conditions, would any at all remain were
the females prominent, like the males, as
they brood upon the nest? Both tanagers construct
a rather disorderly-looking nest of fibres
and sticks, through which daylight can be
seen where it rests securely upon the horizontal
branch of some oak or pine tree; but as soon
as three or four bluish-green eggs have been
laid in the cradle, off goes the father,
wearing his tell-tale coat, to a distant
tree. There he sings his sweetest carol to
the patient, brooding mate, returning to
her side only long enough to feed her with
the insects and berries that form their food.
Happily for the young birds' fate,
they are clothed at first in motley, dull
colors, with here and there only a bright
touch of scarlet, yellow, and olive to prove
their claim to the parent whose gorgeous
plumage must be their admiration. But after
the moulting season it would be a wise tanager
that knew its own father. His scarlet feathers
are now replaced by an autumn coat of olive
and yellow not unlike his mate's. |
PINE GROSBEAK
(Pinicola enucleator) Finch family
|
Called also: PINE BULLFINCH
Length -- Variously recorded from
6.5 to 11 inches. Specimen measured
8.5 inches. About one-fifth smaller than
the robin. Male -- General color strawberry-red,
with some slate-gray fleckings about
head, under wings, and on legs. Tail brown;
wings brown, marked with black and
white and slate. A band- shaped series
of markings between the shoulders. Underneath
paler red, merging into grayish green.
Heavy, conspicuous bill. Female -- Ash-brown.
Head and hind neck yellowish brown, each
feather having central dusky streak.
Cheeks and throat yellowish. Beneath
ash-gray, tinged with brownish yellow under
tail. Range -- British American provinces
and northern United States. Migrations --
Irregular winter visitors; length of visits
as uncertain as their coming.
As inseparable as bees from flowers,
so are these beautiful winter visitors from
the evergreen woods, where their red feathers,
shining against the dark-green background
of the trees, give them charming prominence;
but they also feed freely upon the buds of
various deciduous trees.
South of Canada we may not look for
them except in the severest winter weather.
Even then their coming is not to be positively
depended upon; but when their caprice --
or was it an unusually fierce northern blast?
-- sends them over the Canada border, it
is a simple matter to identify them when
such brilliant birds are rare. The brownish-yellow
and grayish females and young males, however,
always seem to be in the majority with us,
though our Canadian friends assure us of
the irreproachable morals of this gay bird.
Wherever there are clusters of pine
or cedar trees, when there is a flock of
pine grosbeaks in the neighborhood, you may
expect to find a pair of birds diligently
feeding upon the seeds and berries. No cheerful
note escapes them as they persistently gormandize,
and, if the truth must be confessed, they
appear to be rather stupid and uninteresting,
albeit they visit us at a time when we are
most inclined to rapture over our bird visitors.
They are said to have a deliciously sweet
song in the nesting season. When, however,
few except the Canadian voyageurs hear it.
|
AMERICAN CROSSBILL
(Loxia curvirostra minor) Finch family
|
Called also: RED CROSSBILL [AOU 1998]
Length -- 6 to 7 inches. About the
size of the English sparrow. Male -- General
color Indian red, passing into brownish gray,
with red tinge beneath. Wings (without
bands), also tail, brown, Beak crossed
at the tip. Female -- General color greenish
yellow, with brownish tints. Dull-yellowish
tints on head, throat, breast, and underneath.
Wings and tail pale brown. Beak crossed
at tip. Range -- Pennsylvania to northern
British America. West of Mississippi,
range more southerly. Migrations -- Irregular
winter visitor. November. Sometimes
resident until April.
It is a rash statement to say that
a bird is rare simply because you have never
seen it in your neighborhood, for while you
are going out of the front door your rara
avis may be eating the crumbs about your
kitchen. Even with our eyes and ears constantly
alert for some fresh bird excitement, our
phlegmatic neighbor over the way may be enjoying
a visit from a whole flock of the very bird
we have been looking and listening for in
vain all the year. The red crossbills are
capricious little visitors, it is true, but
by no means uncommon.
About the size of an English sparrow,
of a brick or Indian red color, for the most
part, the peculiarity of its parrot-like
beak is its certain mark of identification.
Longfellow has rendered into verse
the German legend of the crossbill, which
tells that as the Saviour hung upon the cross,
a little bird tried to pull out the nails
that pierced His hands and feet, thus twisting
its beak and staining its feathers with the
blood.
At first glance the birds would seem
to be hampered by their crossed beaks in
getting at the seeds in the pine cones --
a superficial criticism when the
thoroughness and admirable dexterity
of their work are better understood.
Various seeds of fruits, berries,
and the buds of trees enlarge their bill
of fare. They are said to be inordinately
fond of salt. Mr. Romeyn B. Hough tells of
a certain old ice-cream freezer that attracted
flocks of crossbills one winter, as a salt-lick
attracts deer. Whether the traditional salt
that may have stuck to the bird's tail is
responsible for its tameness is not related,
but it is certain the crossbills, like most
bird visitors from the far north, are remarkably
gentle, friendly little birds. As they swing
about the pine trees, parrot-fashion, with
the help of their bill, calling out kimp,
kimp, that sounds like the snapping of the
pine cones on a sunny day, it often seems
easily possible to catch them with the hand.
There is another species of crossbill,
called the White-winged (Loxia leucoptera),
that differs from the preceding chiefly in
having two white bands across its wings and
in being more rare. |
THE REDPOLL
(Acanthis linaria) Finch family
|
Called also: REDPOLL LINNET; LITTLE
SNOWBIRD; LESSER REDPOLL; [COMMON
REDPOLL, AOU 1998]
Length -- 5.25 to 5.5 inches. About
an inch shorter than the English sparrow.
Male -- A rich crimson wash on head, neck,
breast, and lower back, that is sometimes
only a pink when we see the bird in
midwinter. Grayish-brown, sparrowy feathers
show underneath the red wash. Dusky
wings and tail, the feathers more or less
edged with whitish. Soiled white underneath;
the sides with dusky streaks. Bill
sharply pointed. Female -- More dingy than
male, sides more heavily streaked, and
having crimson only on the crown. Range --
An arctic bird that descends irregularly
into the Northern United States. Migrations
-- An irregular winter visitor.
"Ere long, amid the cold and
powdery snow, as it were a fruit of the season,
will come twittering a flock of delicate
crimson-tinged birds, lesser redpolls, to
sport and feed on the buds just ripe for
them on the sunny side of a wood, shaking
down the powdery snow there in their cheerful
feeding, as if it were high midsummer to
them." Thoreau's beautiful description
of these tiny winter visitors, which should
be read entire, shows the man in one of his
most sympathetic, exalted moods, and it is
the best brief characterization of the redpoll
that we have.
When the arctic cold becomes too cruel
for even the snow-birds and crossbills to
withstand, flocks of the sociable little
redpolls flying southward are the merest
specks in the sullen, gray sky, when they
can be seen at all. So high do they keep
that often they must pass above our heads
without our knowing it. First we see a quantity
of tiny dots, like a shake of pepper, in
the cloud above, then the specks grow larger
and larger, and finally the birds seem to
drop from the sky upon some tall tree that
they completely cover -- a veritable cloudburst
of birds. Without pausing to rest after the
long journey, down they flutter into the
weedy pastures with much cheerful twittering,
to feed upon whatever seeds may be protruding
through the snow. Every action of a flock
seems to be concerted, as if some rigid disciplinarian
had drilled them, and yet no leader can be
distinguished in the merry company. When
one flies, all fly; where one feeds, all
feed, and by some subtle telepathy all rise
at the identical instant from their feeding
ground and cheerfully twitter in concert
where they all alight at once. They are more
easily disturbed than the goldfinches, that
are often seen feeding with them in the lowlands;
nevertheless, they quite often venture into
our gardens and orchards, even in suburbs
penetrated by the trolley-car.
Usually in winter we hear only their
lisping call-note; but if the birds linger
late enough in the spring, when their "fancy
lightly turns to thoughts of love,"
a gleeful, canary-like song comes from the
naked branches, and we may know by it that
the flock will soon disappear for their nesting
grounds in the northern forests.
The Greater Redpoll (Acanthis linaria
rostrata) may be distinguished from the foregoing
species by its slightly larger size, darker
upper parts, and shorter, stouter bill. But
the notes, habits, and general appearance
of both redpolls are so nearly identical
that the birds are usually mistaken for each
other. |
PURPLE FINCH
(Carpodacus purpureus) Finch family
|
Called also: PURPLE LINNET
Length -- 6 to 6.25 inches. About
the same size as the English sparrow.
Male -- Until two years old, sparrow-like
in appearance like the female, but
with olive-yellow on chin and lower back.
Afterwards entire body suffused with
a bright raspberry-red, deepest on
head, lower back, and breast, and other parts
only faintly washed with this color.
More brown on back; and wings and
tail, which are dusky, have some reddish
brown feathers. Underneath grayish
white. Bill heavy. Tail forked. Female --
Grayish olive brown above; whitish below;
finely Streaked everywhere with very
dark brown, like a sparrow. Sides
of breast have arrow-shaped marks. Wings
and tail darkest. Range -- North America,
from Columbia River eastward to Atlantic
and from Mexico northward to Manitoba.
Most common in Middle States and New
England. Winters south of Pennsylvania. Migrations
-- March. November. Common summer resident.
Rarely individuals winter at the north.
In this "much be-sparrowed country"
of ours familiarity is apt to breed contempt
for any bird that looks sparrowy, in which
case one of the most delicious songsters
we have might easily be overlooked. It is
not until the purple finch reaches maturity
in his second year that his plumage takes
on the raspberry-red tints that some ornithologists
named purple. Oriental purple is our magenta,
it is true, but not a raspberry shade. Before
maturity, but for the yellow on his lower
back and throat, he and his mate alike suggest
a song-sparrow; and it is important to note
their particularly heavy, rounded bills,
with the tufts of feathers at the base, and
their forked tails, to name them correctly.
But the identification of the purple finch,
after all, depends quite as much upon his
song as his color. In March, when flocks
of these birds come north, he has begun to
sing a little; by the beginning of May he
is desperately in love, and sudden, joyous
peals of music from the elm or evergreen
trees on the lawn enliven the garden. How
could his little brown lady-love fail to
be impressed with a suitor so gayly dressed,
so tender and solicitous, so deliciously
sweet-voiced? With fuller, richer song than
the warbling vireo's, which Nuttall has said
it resembles, a perfect ecstasy of love,
pours incessantly from his throat during
the early summer days. There is a suggestion
of the robins love-song in his, but its copiousness,
variety, and rapidity give it a character
all its own.
In some old, neglected hedge or low
tree about the countryplace a flat, grassy
nest, lined with horsehair, contains four
or five green eggs in June, and the old birds
are devotion itself to each other, and soon
to their young, sparrowy brood.
But when parental duties are over,
the finches leave our lawns and gardens to
join flocks of their own kind in more remote
orchards or woods, their favorite haunts.
Their subdued warble may be heard during
October and later, as if the birds were humming
to themselves.
Much is said of their fondness for
fruit blossoms and tree buds, but the truth
is that noxious insects and seeds of grain
constitute their food in summer, the berries
of evergreens in winter. To a bird so gay
of color, charming of voice, social, and
trustful of disposition, surely a few blossoms
might be spared without grudging. |
THE AMERICAN ROBIN
(Merula migratoria) Thrush family
|
Called also: RED-BREASTED OR MIGRATORY THRUSH;
ROBIN-REDBREAST
Length -- 10 inches. Male -- Dull
brownish olive-gray above. Head black; tail
brownish black, with exterior feathers
white at inner tip. Wings dark brownish.
Throat streaked with black and white. White
eyelids. Entire breast bright rusty
red; whitish below the tail. Female -- Duller
and with paler breast, resembling the male
in autumn. Range -- North America,
from Mexico to arctic regions. Migrations
-- March. October or November. Often resident
throughout the year.
It seems almost superfluous to write
a line of description about a bird that is
as familiar as a chicken; yet how can this
nearest of our bird neighbors be passed without
a reference? Probably he was the very first
bird we learned to call by name.
The early English colonists, who had
doubtless been brought up, like the rest
of us, on "The Babes in the Wood,"
named the bird after the only heroes in that
melancholy tale; but in reality the American
robin is a much larger bird than the English
robin-redbreast and less brilliantly colored.
John Burroughs calls him, of all our birds,
"the most native and democratic."
How the robin dominates birddom with
his strong, aggressive personality! His voice
rings out strong and clear in the early morning
chorus, and, more tenderly subdued at twilight,
it still rises above all the sleepy notes
about him. Whether lightly tripping over
the lawn after the "early worm,"
or rising with his sharp, quick cry of alarm,
when startled, to his nest near by, every
motion is decided, alert, and free. No pensive
hermit of the woods, like his cousins, the
thrushes, is this joyous vigorous "bird
of the morning." Such a presence is
inspiriting.
Does any bird excel the robin in the
great variety of his vocal expressions? Mr.
Parkhurst, in his charming "Birds' Calendar,"
says he knows of "no other bird that
is able to give so many shades of meaning
to a single note, running through the entire
gamut of its possible feelings. From the
soft and mellow quality, almost as coaxing
as a dove's note, with which it encourages
its young when just out of the nest, the
tone, with minute gradations, becomes more
vehement, and then harsh and with quickened
reiteration, until it expresses the greatest
intensity of a bird's emotions. Love, contentment,
anxiety, exultation, rage -- what other bird
can throw such multifarious meaning into
its tone? And herein the robin seems more
nearly human than any of its kind."
There is no one thing that attracts
more birds about the house that a drinking-dish
-- large enough for a bathtub as well; and
certainly no bird delights in sprinkling
the water over his back more than a robin,
often aided in his ablutions by the spattering
of the sparrows. But see to it that this
drinking-dish is well raised above the reach
of lurking cats.
While the robin is a famous splasher,
his neatness stops there. A robin's nest
is notoriously dirty within, and so carelessly
constructed of weed-stalks, grass, and mud,
that a heavy summer shower brings more robins'
nests to the ground than we like to contemplate.
The color of the eggs, as every one knows,
has given their name to the tint. Four is
the number of eggs laid, and two broods are
often reared in the same nest.
Too much stress is laid on the mischief
done by the robins in the cherry trees and
strawberry patches, and too little upon the
quantity of worms and insects they devour.
Professor Treadwell, who experimented upon
some young robins kept in captivity, learned
that they ate sixty-eight earthworms daily
-- "that is, each bird ate forty-one
per cent more than its own weight in twelve
hours! The length of these worms, if laid
end to end, would be about fourteen feet.
Man, at this rate, would eat about seventy
pounds of flesh a day, and drink five or
six gallons of water." |
ORCHARD ORIOLE
(Icterus spurius) Blackbird and Oriole family
|
Called also: ORCHARD STARLING; ORCHARD
HANG-NEST
Length -- 7 to 7.3 inches. About one-fourth
smaller than the robin. Male -- Head,
throat, upper back, tail, and part of wings
black. Breast, rump, shoulders, under
wing and tail coverts, and under parts
bright reddish brown. Whitish-yellow markings
on a few tail and wing feathers. Female
-- Head and upper parts olive, shading into
brown; brighter on head and near tail.
Back and wings dusky brown, with pale-buff
shoulder-bars and edges of coverts. Throat
black. Under parts olive, shading
into yellow. Range -- Canada to Central America.
Common in temperate latitudes of the
United States. Migrations -- Early May. Middle
of September. Common summer resident.
With a more southerly range than the
Baltimore oriole and less conspicuous coloring,
the orchard oriole is not so familiar a bird
in many Northern States, where, nevertheless,
it is quite common enough to be classed among
our would-be intimates. The orchard is not
always as close, to the house as this bird
cares to venture; he will pursue an insect
even to the piazza vines.
His song, says John Burroughs, is
like scarlet, "strong, intense, emphatic,"
but it is sweet and is more rapidly uttered
than that of others of the family. It is
ended for the season early in July.
This oriole, too, builds a beautiful
nest, not often pendent like the Baltimore's,
but securely placed in the fork of a sturdy
fruit tree, at a moderate height, and woven
with skill and precision, like a basket.
When the dried grasses from one of these
nests were stretched and measured, all were
found to be very nearly the same length,
showing to what pains the little weaver had
gone to make the nest neat and pliable, yet
strong. Four cloudy-white eggs with dark-brown
spots are usually found in the nest in June.
|
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