Birds and all Nature, Vol. V, No. 1, January 1899

I had quite a time teaching him to stay in his cage. The first day I put him in I was afraid he would die of fright. I left the cage on the floor for two days before he ventured in. After he had been going in and out for some time, I closed the door, but he was frightened quite as much as at first, and he would not go near the cage the rest of the day. Finally I tried taking the cage on my lap and shutting him in; he did not seem afraid then and now he does not mind being shut up in the morning when I am in my dressing-room, but he much prefers going in and out at his own sweet will. If I leave him shut up in his cage and go back to bed, he is frantic until he is let out and gets in the bed with me. For the first two weeks he was not happy if he was not on me somewhere. He would stay in bed with me for hours at a time, but now he plays on the floor, with a little piece of paper, cotton, or ribbon, and eats his seeds and biscuit.

I dress my hair high and it is Little Billee's special delight to sit on the top of my twist while I walk about my room. During the first few weeks if I put him on the floor when he had been in bed with me, he would hop back and forth on the rug in front of my bed, and beg to be taken, or he would fly straight up. I would put down my hand, he would hop upon my finger and in a second be back inside the bed. If I was sitting in a chair and put him down on the floor, he would climb right up from my feet to my neck, put his little bill in my mouth and chirp with glee. One day he was on the floor and did not see me go back to bed, but saw my wrapper over a chair (which stood about a yard from my bed). He supposed I was inside of it, but when he reached the top and found no mouth to put his bill into, he gave several very mournful peeps, but as soon as I spoke to him he chirped and it did not take him long to fly over to me. The next day when I put him down on the floor I was anxious to see what he would do. After teasing for some time for me to take him, he went to a chair, climbed up on the wrapper until he reached the top, then flew over to me. Ever after he came that way when I refused to take him.

One day I left Little Billee on the rug in front of the bed and went into my dressing room. While I was gone my mother came in and sat down. He was much frightened. Every time she spoke to him he ran under the bed, stuck his little head out from under the valance and peeped for me to come to him. When I spoke he answered, but was too much afraid to pass mother to come to me. When I came out he ran quickly to me and flew onto the back of a very low chair. I bent down and he flew up on my shoulder, chirping as loud as he could. No little child could have shown more joy in getting back to its mother. I do not suppose he remembers any other mother, and thinks all little birds have just such good mothers as I.

I have a magnificent big tiger cat named Taffy, so I thought Little Billee would be a very good name for my wee bird. It seems a very appropriate name too, as he spends a great deal of his time dressing himself and manicuring his nails. When he struts about with his head held high you can plainly see the long coat, high collar, high hat, and umbrella and can easily imagine the original Little Billee is before you. But I fear Taffy and my Little Billee will never go walking arm and arm together. Taffy has already caught Little Billee twice, but I have rescued him from the jaws of death before any harm was done. I am trying my best to get them to live contentedly together. I do not allow Little Billee to go out into the hall for fear he will fly down stairs and be caught by Taffy before anyone can reach him. Before the door into the hall is a small rug and he thinks flying over that a great feat, but when I say, "Little Billee, come right home," he returns instantly.

He goes to bed at eight o'clock in a little basket which I put on the top of some hanging shelves so there will be no danger from Taffy in the dark. Taffy sleeps on my bed every night, and very often on the outside when Little Billee is inside, and it seems like the lion and the lamb lying down together. Little Billee will usually be contented in his basket until 7 o'clock in the morning, then I take him into the bed with me where he lies quietly on my arm, neck, or palm until I get up at 9 o'clock. He never makes a peep unless I speak to him, then he chirps away like a happy child. On fine evenings I sat before an open window from 7 o'clock until 8 with Little Billee on my finger listening to the birds. When he became sleepy he tucked his little head under his wing, in a few minutes crawled into the palm of my hand and went sound asleep, ready for his basket.

When the hot wave came I went down-stairs at 7 o'clock, shutting him up in his cage.

The second night I had hard work to catch him. He ran into the hall and would not come when I called to him. The third night, when he saw me making preparations to dress, he acted like mad. He hopped all around me, put out his tiny wings, and tried to fly onto me, opened his bill, but not a sound came out. As I stood in front of my dressing table he flew to the top of his cage (which stood on the floor) to the back of a chair (which was near me), then up to my shoulder, chirping away so merrily that I knew he was saying: "Please take me with you." Of course, after that it is needless to say I took him down-stairs, and he has gone down every night since, where he remains until 8 o'clock, then is put into his basket, and I hear no more from him until morning.

On pleasant mornings I sit on the piazza and Little Billee sits on my hand or plays in my lap. When I walk on the sidewalk Little Billee goes, too, and never offers to fly away, and if the wind blows he holds on tight. Sometimes he sings and always seems interested in all that is going on about him.

Twice Little Billee has flown out of my window from fright. Once he was on my shoulder when a very small girl with a very large hat came up to him and away he flew. The next time a large bunch of ferns was brought to me. I thought he would like it and think it was a nice little tree, but I am all the tree he seems to care for. He was so frightened he flew onto a chair, and as I held up a fern out of the window he went. Both times when my maid went to look for him she could not find him until she peeped, then he answered, and she found him sitting in the grass waiting to be picked up, and he was delighted to get back to me.

Little Billee has never gone to any one except my physician, and that was when I had had him about a week. He went to him, hopped all over his shoulder, picked at his collar and tie and was very friendly. Now he will not go to even him, and I feel sure I am Trilby and his only love. Perhaps the children who read this will think Little Billee is a little angel bird and too good to live, but I will say right here he is too bad to die. Like all bright children sometimes he is very naughty. For instance, when I want to lie quietly on my bed in the day time and Little Billee does not, he will play for some time running up on the top of my pillow, then down again, hop on my arm, then under the sheet until he finds my hand; back he goes and does the same thing over again. When he gets tired of that he will sit on my chin and be very loving, kiss me in the mouth, and chirp away. When he finds I am not going to open my eyes or speak to him he will peck and bite my eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, and lips, and I assure you they are not love bites either. Then again, when he wants to sit on my shoulder and I prefer he should sit on my hand, he will fly up every time I take him down, and bite hard at my hand, and for such a little bird he has a very big bite and a very fierce look.

He loves to visit my mother in her room, and is very happy walking all over her and on her head, but she has never yet been able to touch him. He seems to have eyes all over his head, for, no matter how careful she is, he always sees the finger. He thoroughly enjoys my squeezing him in my hand, and kissing him over and over again.

No doubt long ere this my readers have been wondering what kind of a bird Little Billee is, but that is a question which has not yet been answered. But I love Little Billee so dearly that it makes little difference to me what his nationality is or whether his ancestors came over in the Mayflower, fought in the American revolution, or whether, like Topsy, he "just growed." It was amusing to see Little Billee the first time he heard the piano. One morning two friends came to see me, and while one of them played I lay on the sofa with Little Billee cuddled up in my neck. At first he was very much afraid and did not know what to make of the music. Soon he became charmed (as everyone does who hears exquisite playing) and craned his little neck way out, opened his bill, as if he were drinking in the sound, then reached around, kissed me in the mouth, snuggled down again, for a few minutes, and repeated it as long as she played.

One morning I saw Little Billee lying on the floor before an open window with his neck stretched out and bill wide opened. I thought he was dying, picked him up, but found him as lively as ever. When he did the same thing over again I understood he was taking a sun bath, and now he takes one every morning. One morning it was quite cold when we came in from our walk, and I sat down in front of the fire with Little Billee on my knee. It was amusing to see him put his head on one side, open his bill and drink in the warm air. For six weeks he strongly objected to taking a water bath, and I really suppose he was too young and knew best. I left a little dish for several days on the floor by the side of his cage, but he was very careful not to go near it. One morning everything was very quiet, I on my bed and Little Billee playing about the room. Soon he went to the dish, looked in all four corners, came back to the first one, put his bill in just a little way, then went the rounds; did it all over again, putting his bill in a little further, and shaking off the water. After debating a long time he got on the edge of the dish, put his head in until it was all wet, then screwed up all his courage and in he went. Such a droll little figure as he cut, standing there with his body and head held as high as he could get them, his wings out just a little, not knowing what to do next. All I could think of was a very timid child going in wading for the first time, with long thin legs, very short frock, and arms akimbo. His fear soon left him, and he was bathing like an old stager. When he finished he got out, gave himself two or three good shakes, then came over to the bed, and asked me to take him. I did him up in my handkerchief, but that did not suit him at all. I could not do anything with him, until I let him get on my bare neck, and covered him with the trimming of my robe de nuit. He was soaking wet and shivering like a person having a hard chill. He kept very still until his feathers were dry enough to be dressed. Such shaking, dressing of feathers, and prinking I never saw. When his toilet was made to suit him he nestled down under my chin, and we both slept for an hour. Every day we go through the same performance after the bath. One day I wanted to do something in my dressing-room, so thought Little Billee could take his bath and dry himself. Soon I began to hear very mournful peeps, and I came out to find Little Billee, soaking wet, standing in front of my bed, thinking I was there and teasing for me to take him. Of course I could not resist such pleading, so to bed we went. I know I am completely spoiling him, but he is such a dear no one could help it.

Little Billee has taken a great interest in this tale, and when I write is always on my shoulder, arm or hand. His favorite place to sit is on my left hand between my first finger and thumb, as they hold my portfolio on my lap, and peck at my paper and pen. One day he took the pen full of ink into his bill then threw the ink all over my paper. Little Billee has great fun taking the paper off from the bottom of his cage, and carrying it all about the room, and will take it out as fast as I put it in. The other day he went into his cage, took the furthest corner of the paper in his bill, backed out bringing the paper over his head until it was all on the floor, then went over to the opposite corner, took that in his bill, backed off the paper until he came to the end, then went around in a circle like the wind, for perhaps a dozen times, with the paper perfectly straight out just like a sail. After a few moments I put the paper back, he took it right out in the same way and did it all over again.

A number of weeks have passed since I began Little Billee's biography. He grows more wonderful every day, and his devotion to me is simply marvelous. Every day he does some new cunning thing and seems to understand everything I say to him.

The other day he would not come to me when I put down my hand, but ran across the room. After trying for some time to make him mind, I got up and said, "Billee, I am going away and leave you," and started out into the hall. He came chasing after me, and now will always do it when I tell him I am going to leave him. If I go out of my room and tell him he cannot go, he will sit on a chair by an open window or play about on the floor for an hour at a time, and never think of flying out of the window or going out of the door.

(Continued on page 48.)

THE SAND-HILL CRANE

THE sandhill crane is so often confused, in the popular mind, with the great blue heron, that it may not be amiss to suggest the real differences between them. We should first remember that the crane is not found east of Illinois, except casually or accidentally, but is numerous from Illinois westward to the western border of the plains during the migrations. It ranges as far north as Manitoba. The great blue heron is pretty evenly distributed over the whole of North America. The cranes usually, if not always, migrate in greater or lesser flocks, alternately circling upward to considerable heights and sailing straight away, with both soaring and flapping motion, and with prodigious croakings. The herons migrate singly or in pairs, with long, steady sweep of the wings, and make no outcry. Close at hand the two species would hardly be confused by an ordinarily careful observer, but these large birds are rarely seen close at hand.

The feeding habits of the two birds are very similar, and to this superficial similarity is largely due the confusion, I suspect. Both wade into the water searching for some hapless frog or toad, often standing motionless for minutes at a time until the victim comes within range of the sharply-pointed beak, when a lightning-like movement of the head sends the beak completely through the creature, killing and capturing it with one stroke. The long legs and neck are admirably adapted to this kind of fishing.

Colonel N. S. Goss describes the courting antics of these ungainly birds as extremely ludicrous at times. A veritable Indian war dance, in fact, in which the females join heartily, and like the war dance, stopping only when the last participant falls down with exhaustion. It seems to be a sort of promiscuous wedding ceremony for the whole company.

The crane nests on the dry, flat prairie, usually scraping together some wisps of dry grass, but often with not even this poor excuse for a nest. Here two to four drab-brown colored, rough-shelled eggs are laid and the young reared.

Size seems to be the only criterion which determines what the crane may eat. Perhaps it might better be said, what he will swallow. He seems to relish stones, pocket-knives, steel nails and the like fully as well as the choicest bit of frog or toad. Like many other birds, however, he regurgitates the indigestible matter, and so takes no harm from this promiscuous diet. Many of us may have reason to envy him this capacity.

Dr. P. L. Hatch, in his "Birds of Minnesota," gives an interesting description of the fighting qualities of a pet crane which he offered to pit against any and all canines, one at a time. One valiant mastiff, which essayed to do battle with his craneship, entered the ring with all the confidence of an unbroken record of victories, but a moment later he "stayed not on the order of his going," carrying with him the exact pattern of the crane's beak. No other canines ever volunteered for a similar service.

THE STORY OF LITTLE BILLEE

(Continued from Page 44.)

I have succeeded far beyond my expectations with Taffy and Little Billee. It hurt me very much to be obliged to punish Taffy when he would spring at Little Billee, as Taffy and I had been devoted to each other for two years; still I did not want him to kill my baby bird. One day Little Billee was sitting on my knee dressing his feathers and going through all sorts of antics, while Taffy sat a few feet away gazing at him with longing eyes. I called to my maid to bring Taffy and hold him on her lap, and then let Little Billee peck and bite his paws, ears, and nose, and a more astonished cat I never saw. After we let Taffy go he was found sitting on the cellar stairs in a most dejected way rubbing his nose with his paw. For several days we did the same thing until Taffy was afraid at sight of Little Billee. One morning Taffy came to bed with me, and lay on my arm while Little Billee sat on my shoulder. Soon Taffy put his chin on my chin, and Little Billee came and sat close to my cheek. Finally Taffy became so sleepy he turned over, went fast asleep, and Little Billee hopped down on his back, and we lay that way for some time. Since then almost every day Taffy will lie on my lap, and Little Billee will sit on his head, back, or on my knee and dress his feathers. One day Little Billee had the impertinence, while I had them both on my lap, to reach out and peck Taffy in the eye. That was a little more than Taffy could endure, and he reached out his paw and struck at him. For over a week I could not get Little Billee to go near him, but now they are very good friends.

Little Billee enjoys going down into the parlors to see visitors, but he gives them to understand, the first thing, they may look but they must not touch. He will entertain them by hopping all over me, kissing me in the mouth and chirping at the top of his voice. When it begins to get dark Little Billee does not want to be off from me a minute. If I have him down stairs and put him on the floor he will hop and fly after me from room to room. The other day I left him in the front parlor on a plant jar and went into the dining-room and was gone some little time. When I came back there was no Little Billee to be found. I called him by name and peeped to him, but I could not get an answer. As I went upstairs I called, "Where is my Little Billee?" And he said, chirp, chirp, chirp; and I found him in my room eating his seeds and as happy as possible.

Since then every day when he gets tired of the parlors he goes upstairs, for he seems to think my room is his home. One day I watched him to see how he went. He hopped from step to step. When he reached the top he flew into my room and lighted on the top of his cage.

Little Billee is certainly not color-blind, for he notices every little change in my dress no matter how slight it is. He had seen me for weeks in only my robe de nuit, and wrapper. It was pitiable to see him the first time he saw me gowned in a white skirt and blue waist. I had to lie down when I had finished dressing and Little Billee came over to the bed as usual and asked me to take him. I put down my hand, he hopped on my finger, but when he looked up and saw the blue sleeve away he went as if he had been shot out of a cannon. He tried several times but his courage always failed. At last he gave up and went and sat in a chair across the room, and it was two days before he really liked the change. Next I tried a pink waist with the white skirt, but that seemed even worse to him, which seemed very strange, as he had seen me for days in a pink and white wrapper.

My numerous friends will vouch for the veracity of the story, as they all think Little Billee is the most wonderful bird they have ever seen. I only hope my little sketch, told just as the things have come to me, will give similar pleasure to other invalids.