Part 10 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: Wood-Thrush's Nest with Young]
One day we were walking through a strip of woods that lay along a babbling brook, wending our way towards a wood thrush's nest which on the occasion of our last visit contained several eggs. When we came to the nest we found the eggs had been removed, and we left, wondering what agency was responsible. A short distance from the nest we saw a large black snake gliding through the gra.s.s toward a rotten stump about ten feet high. I set after him and he climbed a big locust tree, on which he paused for a moment at a height of some six feet from the ground. Then when disturbed he slipped over to a hollow stump, which had grown alongside from the same base, and to our surprise proceeded to enter a knothole that seemed far too small for him. Not to be outdone, we pried the stump from the main trunk and found the snake coiled like a watch spring tightly against the inner walls of the hollow base. From this position he had to be pried, inch by inch, while I pulled him out by the tail and dragged him into an open field nearby, where he could be photographed. We placed a limb in the ground at an angle, but although we tried many times, the snake refused to crawl up. Finally we got the original stump, placed it in the ground, started Mr. Snake toward it, and he, immediately recognizing his former retreat, gracefully crawled up the tree.
The wood thrush builds its nest anywhere from two to twelve feet from the ground and on almost any kind of bush or tree. They are not over-sensitive if one disturbs the nest. In order to get the accompanying photograph it was necessary to remove the nest from its lofty position some twelve feet above the ground to a limb about two feet high. After taking the picture of the nest with the four eggs, we returned it to its original place. The following week we called and found three of the eggs hatched. We removed the nest and after photographing returned it, and the birds remained until full-fledged, as though nothing had happened to their childhood home.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Nest and Eggs of American Redstart]
How elegantly dressed the American redstart (_Setophaga ruticilla_) appears on his arrival from his winter home! The costume of his wife is not so flaming, but is nevertheless very attractive. How active they seem, flitting from place to place, at times having all the characteristics of the flycatcher and again all the marks of the sylvan warblers they are! Proud as a peac.o.c.k, he spreads his pretty tail as much as to say to his woodland neighbors, ”You can't match me for grace and beauty.” And well may he be proud of his graceful elegance and his achievements in procuring his food, for he is one of the most charming and energetic of the insectivorous birds. He is a creature of action, always on the move, lively and alert, getting all that is coming to him in quick succession. The nest is built in the fork of a tree or on some horizontal limb, and is constructed of rootlets and twigs in a skillful manner. Often plant-down and vegetable-silks are woven into the cup much after the fas.h.i.+on of the vireo's idea. It is frequently adorned on the outside with lichens and other substances tending toward obliterative coloration. If approached, the birds flit from limb to limb in a nervous manner, much excited, and at times appearing as though ready to strike an intruder. When frightened from the nest they will return if one stands off at some distance.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by C. H. Brown. Lady Redstart and Her Home]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Nest and Eggs of Blue-winged Warbler]
Down on the edge of a group of dead trees a pair of red-headed woodp.e.c.k.e.rs (_Melanerpes erythrocephalus_) were working away at a height of about twenty feet, getting ready for their antic.i.p.ated brood. Tom, a boy of fourteen years, came along and noticed the couple at work. They were taking their turns methodically at intervals of twenty minutes or thereabouts. Later the birds completed the excavated cavity and the female had proceeded fairly well with her maternal duties. Tom climbed the tree to see how she was getting along. He found two eggs in the nest. Because of this intrusion or some other reason, the birds abandoned the nest and eggs and selected another stump not far from the first, where they proceeded along the same lines until they had excavated another hole to their liking, and the mother bird laid three pearly-white eggs which in due time she hatched.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Young Woodp.e.c.k.e.rs Foraging]
Now the birds were busy gathering insects to feed their progeny. A short distance from their home was an abandoned tennis-court, grown up with gra.s.s. This seemed to be the favorite feeding-ground of the male parent.
For hours we watched him coming and going, always alighting on the net-post where he kept a lookout for insects. Every few minutes he would take a rapid flight to the ground and again return to the post with food, then by an easy course to the young. To follow him with the eye in flight conveyed the idea of one continuous line of red, white, and blue.
One day while we were watching the tree stump a flicker alighted on it near the hole. Like a flash came the parent bird from some place nearby, made a dart at the flicker, and soon put him to rout.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by E. W. Arthur. Nest and Eggs of the Thrasher]
The brown thrasher (_Harporhynchus rufus_) is an interesting member of the feathery tribe who dwells in the solitude of some thicket, where he is at home among the underbrush. In order to see the inhabitants of the woods, one should avoid light or conspicuous clothing, dress as nearly as may be in harmony with the surroundings, and step about as gently as possible. You may go through a clump of woods talking with a companion and rarely see much that is happening; but go alone, gently, with eyes and ears open, and Nature begins to unfold some of her secrets. In the early morn the thrashers delight in perching on a tree-top and filling the surrounding glen with delightful melodies. In nesting-time they become very seclusive, and an occasional glimpse is all that we can get of this handsome bird as he flits from limb to limb, jerking and wagging his tail. Sometimes they build their nest on the ground, but more frequently on some bush or small tree. It is characteristic of the female when incubating to let you get very close before she will leave the nest. On one occasion while walking through an open woods I became conscious of a bright eye fixed upon me. The gleam of an orange iris accentuated its size, and in a second it dawned upon me that a thrasher sitting on its nest in a brush heap was the owner of the eye. I proceeded to arrange my tripod for a picture, but before I secured it she left the nest with a graceful flight. She flew around and around, making an angry noise, and continued her scolding for some time.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by E. W. Arthur. On Night Turn (Note the protective obliteration.)]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by C. H. Brown. Young Thrasher]
A friend of mine found a nest with eggs on the ground among some mandrakes. Selecting a dark night he visited the nest and, by keeping the bird bewildered under the rays of a pocket flash-light, was able to set up his camera at a distance of perhaps ten feet, arrange a reflector and touch off a flash powder, by the light of which he succeeded in getting a flash-light of the bird while incubating. She seemed to be unconcerned, and in fact did not leave the nest. The intruder decamped and left the serenity of her domestic life undisturbed.
The young of the thrasher are instantly recognized, for they have all the family characteristics of the parent birds so well defined.
Frequently as late as the month of August, and long after most birds have turned their attention to other matters, the thrasher devotes its time to domestic duties. Indeed after the song season of many birds has pa.s.sed, I have found in the Ohio Valley region the nests of thrashers and chewinks with eggs and young.
Measured by the birds and their customs, the springtime may extend, as we have seen, far into the calendar summer. We begin paying our devotions to the G.o.ddess while yet the snow is on the ground, and we are still doing homage at the shrine when the mercury hovers about the ninety-five-in-the-shade mark, but the change has come so gradually that from one day to another we have hardly noticed it. If to our wors.h.i.+p we brought receptive hearts, stimulated by keen vision and hearing, we have learned much of practical economic value.
Without ever having opened the craw of one of the feathered tribe, observation with a good gla.s.s has taught us a mult.i.tude of things in regard to the feeding of the different species and their economic worth to the human race. From a commanding position by the nest of the yellow-billed cuckoo (_Coccyzus america.n.u.s_), we have learned that this bird is an invaluable ally in the war against the tent caterpillar. The grosbeak is the arch enemy of the potato bug; young bobwhites devour untold numbers of the eggs of the Hessian fly, that great ravager of the western grainfields; the woodp.e.c.k.e.rs save many an orchard and lawn tree from early death as a victim of one or another of the borers. Indeed, the tons of destruction, if we may apply the term, devoured by our birds in a single summer day, if it could be estimated, would make an appalling figure.
But beyond all the ma.s.s of facts gathered, which go to make up the sum total of the world's knowledge, is that oxygenation of spirit, that freshness of vigor, bodily and mental, which we derive from having left behind the busy world for these hours of devotion at the shrine. I have always thought that there was a more spiritual quality in the religion of the Druids than in that of most ancient heathen faiths, due probably to the fact that their rites and ceremonies were performed in the woods and forests, and that in their seeking after a Force beyond that which they saw, they received some measure of the revelation which comes to every one who loves the woods and fields. To us who have the light of other revelation, the contact with Nature brings a closer touch and keener sympathy with the great scheme of the Author of all creation. And who can contemplate this without gaining dignity in the contemplation?
CHAPTER VIII
A PLEA FOR PROTECTION
[Ill.u.s.tration: A Delightful Place]
As I loiter along the banks of a sylvan stream about the first of April, looking for the return of some of the feathery tribe, there falls upon my ears a sound, hoa.r.s.e and grating as described by ornithologists, but to my ears most pleasant, for it tells me that a fine bird, the belted kingfisher (_Ceryle alcyon_), has arrived for the season. With his crest plainly visible, in strong flight he is following the course of the winding creek. This highly original character is the only member of the kingfisher family in our part of the country. Yet there is little or no protection extended to him by law. It would be a calamity indeed if he were eliminated from the scenery of the wooded banks, the tossing rapids, and the still pool at the foot of the falls. Here the silvery spray contributes a weird touch to the scene as the ”lone fisherman”
hovers for an instant, then with a spiral sweep makes a plunge, disappears for a second, comes up with his finny prey, and takes his rapid flight to some old limb, where he consumes the fish at leisure. I have never heard a word against this striking bird, except on one occasion when a friend, who is the proud owner of a lily pond, complained about one of them making visits to poach on his goldfish. The legislation permitting their slaughter was pa.s.sed, I presume, in the sole interest of the fisherman. Surely this stately bird should not be exterminated; its chief diet is minnows and small fry, fish rejected by the angler except for use as bait. To my mind the species is at present in serious danger of becoming extinct and should be protected.