Birds Illustrated by Color Photography [February, 1898]

The nest of the Finch is usually placed in evergreens or orchard trees, at a moderate distance from the ground. It is composed of weed-stalks, bark strips, rootlets, grasses, and vegetable fibres, and lined with hair. The eggs are four or five in number, dull green, and spotted with dark brown.

Study his picture and habits and be prepared to welcome this charming spring visitant.

THE RED-BELLIED WOODPECKER

A little Woodpecker am I,And you may always knowWhen I am searching for a worm,For tap, tap, tap, I go.

Oh yes, I am proud of my appearance, but really I am not proud of my name. Sometimes I am called the “Zebra Bird,” on account of the bands of white and black on my back and wings. That is a much prettier name, I think, than the Red-bellied Woodpecker, don’t you? Certainly it is more genteel.

I know a bird that is called the Red-eyed Vireo, because his eyes are red. Well, my eyes are red, too. Then why not call me the Red-eyed Woodpecker? Still the Woodpeckers are such a common family I don’t much care about that either.

In the last number of Birds that saucy red-headed cousin of mine had his picture and a letter. Before very long the Red-cockaded Woodpecker will have his picture taken too, I suppose.

Dear, dear! If all the Woodpeckers are going to write to you, you will have a merry time. Why, I can count twenty-four different species of that family and I have only four fingers, or toes, to count on, and you little folks have five. There may be more of them, Woodpeckers I mean, for all I know.

Speaking about toes! I have two in front and two behind. There are some Woodpeckers that have only three, two in front and one behind. It’s a fact, I assure you. I thought I would tell you about it before one of the three toed fellows got a chance to write to you about it himself.

I am not so shy and wary a bird as some people think I am. When I want an insect, or worm, I don’t care how many eyes are watching me, but up the tree I climb in my zigzag fashion, crying chaw-chaw, or chow-chow in a noisy sort of way. Sometimes I say chuck, chuck, chuck! The first is Chinese, and the last English, you know. You might think it sounded like the bark of a small dog, though.

I am fond of flies and catch them on the wing. I like ripe apples, too; and oh, what a good time I have in winter raiding the farmer’s corn crib! I have only to hammer at the logs with my sharp bill, and soon I can squeeze myself in between them and eat my fill. I understand the farmer doesn’t like it very much.

THE RED BELLIED WOODPECKER

ZEBRA BIRD” is the name by which this handsome Woodpecker will be recognized by many readers. Some regard it as the most beautiful of the smaller species of its tribe. As may be seen, the whole crown and nape are scarlet in the male. In the female they are only partly so, but sufficiently to make the identification easy. A bird generally of retired habits, seeking the deepest and most unfrequented forests to breed, it is nevertheless often found in numbers in the vicinity of villages where there are a few dead and partially decayed trees, in which they drill their holes, high up on a limb, or in the bole of the tree. When engaged in hammering for insects it frequently utters a short, singular note, which Wilson likens to the bark of a small dog. We could never liken it to anything, it is so characteristic, and must be heard to be appreciated. Chaw, chaw, repeated twice, and with vigor, somewhat resembles the hoarse utterance.

Prof. D. E. Lantz states that this species in the vicinity of Manhattan, Kansas, exhibits the same familiarity as the Flicker, the Red-headed and Downy Woodpeckers. About a dozen nests were observed, the excavations ranging usually less than twenty feet from the ground. One nest in a burrow of a large dead limb of an elm tree was found May 12, and contained five eggs. The birds are very much attached to their nests. If the nest is destroyed by man or beast, the birds almost immediately begin excavating another nest cavity for the second set, always in the vicinity of the first nest, often in the same tree.

In its search for food, the “Zebra Bird,” regardless of the presence of man, climbs in its usual spiral or zigzag manner the trees and their branches boldly uttering now and then its familiar chaw, chaw, darting off occasionally to catch a passing insect upon the wing. Its flight is undulating, and its habits in many respects are like those of the Red-headed, but it is not so much of an upland bird, or lover of berries and fruits, and therefore more respected by the farmer. In contest with the Red-head it is said to be invariably vanquished.

The North American family of Woodpeckers – consisting of about twenty-five species – is likely to be brought together in Birds for the first time. We have already presented several species, and will figure others as we may secure the finest specimens. Occasionally a foreign Woodpecker will appear. About three hundred and fifty species are known, and they are found in all the wooded parts of the world except Australia and Madagascar.

A FORCED PARTNERSHIP

A pair of Robins had made their nest on the horizontal branch of an evergreen tree which stood near a dwelling house, and the four young had hatched when a pair of English Sparrows selected the same branch for their nest. When the Robins refused to vacate their nest, the Sparrows proceeded to build theirs upon the outside of the Robin’s nest. To this the Robins made no objection, so both families lived and thrived together on the same branch, with nests touching. The young of both species developed normally, and in due time left their nests. The branch bearing both nests is now preserved in the college museum. —Oberlin College Bulletin.

WHAT IS AN EGG?

How many people crack an egg, swallow the meat, and give it no further thought. Yet, to a reflective mind the egg constitutes, it has been said, the greatest wonder of nature. The highest problems of organic development, and even of the succession of animals on the earth, are embraced here. “Every animal springs from an egg,” is a dictum of Harvey that has become an axiom.

In an egg one would suppose the yolk to be the animal. This is not so. It is merely food – the animal is the little whitish circle seen on the membrane enveloping the yolk.

We hope to group a number of eggs, to enable our readers to compare their size and shape, from that of the Epyornis, six times the size of an Ostrich egg, down to the tiny egg that is found in the soft nest of the Humming-bird. This gigantic egg is a foot long and nine inches across, and would hold as much as fifty thousand Humming-bird’s eggs.

THE SAW-WHET OWL

“The Lark is but a bumpkin fowl;He sleeps in his nest till morn;But my blessing upon the jolly OwlThat all night blows his horn.”

A CURIOUS name for a bird, we are inclined to say when we meet with it for the first time, but when we hear its shrill, rasping call note, uttered perhaps at midnight, we admit the appropriateness of “saw-whet.” It resembles the sound made when a large-toothed saw is being filed.

Mr. Goss says that the natural home of this sprightly little Owl is within the wild woodlands, though it is occasionally found about farm houses and even cities. According to Mr. Nelson, it is of frequent occurrence in Chicago, where, upon some of the most frequented streets in the residence portion of the city, a dozen specimens have been taken within two years. It is very shy and retiring in its habits, however, rarely leaving its secluded retreats until late at eve, for which reason it is doubtless much more common throughout its range than is generally supposed. It is not migratory but is more or less of an irregular wanderer in search of food during the autumn and winter. It may be quite common in a locality and then not be seen again for several years. It is nocturnal, seldom moving about in the day time, but passing the time in sleeping in some dark retreat; and so soundly does it sleep that ofttimes it may be captured alive.

The flight of the Saw-whet so closely resembles that of the Woodcock that it has been killed by sportsmen, when flying over the alders, through being mistaken for the game bird.

These birds nest in old deserted squirrel or Woodpecker holes and small hollows in trees. The eggs – usually four – are laid on the rotten wood or decayed material at the bottom. They are white and nearly round.

In spite of the societies formed to prevent the killing of birds for ornamenting millinery, and the thousands of signatures affixed to the numerous petitions sent broadcast all over the country, in which women pledged themselves not to wear birds or feathers of any kind on their hats, this is essentially a bird killing year, and the favorite of all the feathers is that of the Owl. There is an old superstition about him too. He has always been considered an unlucky bird, and many persons will not have one in the house. He may, says a recent writer, like the Peacock, lose his unlucky prestige, now that Dame Fashion has stamped him with her approval. Li Hung Chang rescued the Peacock feather from the odium of ill luck, and hundreds of persons bought them after his visit who would never permit them to be taken inside their homes prior to it. So the Owl seems to have lost his ill luck since fair woman has decided that the Owl hat is “the thing.”

The small size of the Saw-whet and absence of ears, at once distinguish this species from any Owl of eastern North America, except Richardson’s, which has the head and back spotted with white, and legs barred with grayish-brown.

THE SAW-WHET OWL

“Whew!” exclaims Bobbie. “Here’s another Owl. I never knew there were so many different species, mamma.”

Mamma smiled at that word “species.” It was a word Bobbie had learned in his study of Birds.

“The Saw-whet Owl,” said she, looking at the picture. “A good looking little fellow, but not handsome as the Snowy Owl in the number of Birds.”

“He was a beauty,” assented Bobbie, “such great yellow eyes looking at you out of a snow bank of feathers. This little fellow’s feet have on black shoes with yellow soles, not white fur overshoes like the Snowy Owl’s.”

“His eyes glow like topaz, though, just as the others did,” said mamma. “Let us see what he says about himself.

“As stupid as an Owl. That’s the way some people talk about us. Then again I’ve heard them say, ‘tough as a b’iled owl.’ B’iled Owls may be tough, I don’t know anything about that, for I have been too shy and wary to be caught.

“I had a neighbor once who was very fond of chickens. He was a Night Owl and said he found it easy to catch them when roosting out at night. Well he caught so many that Mr. Owl grew very fat, and the farmer whose chickens he ate, caught, cooked, and ate him. His flesh, the farmer said, was tender and sweet. So, my little friends, when you want to call anything ‘tough,’ don’t mention the Owl any more.

“A foreigner?

“Oh, my, no! I’m proud to say I am an American, and so are all my folks. A branch of the family, however, lives way up north in a region where they sing ‘God save the Queen’ instead of the ‘Star Spangled Banner.’ They call themselves English Owls, I guess, because they live on British soil.

“Do I sing?

“Well, not exactly. I can hoot though, and my Ah-ee, ah-ee, ah-oo, ah-oo, has a pleasant sound, very much like filing a saw. That is the reason they call me the Saw-whet Owl. My mate says it doesn’t sound that way to her, but then as she hasn’t any ears maybe she doesn’t hear very well.

“You never see me out in the day time, no indeed! I know when the mice come out of their holes; I am very fond of mice, also insects. I like small birds, too – to eat – but I find them very hard to catch.

“Don’t you?”

THE BLACK SWAN

I advise you little folks to take a good look at me. You don’t often see a Black Swan. White Swans are very common, common as white Geese. I only wish I could have had my picture taken while gliding through the water. I am so stately and handsome there. My feet wouldn’t have shown either.

Really I don’t think my feet are pretty. They always remind me when I look down at them of a windmill or the sails of a vessel. But if they hadn’t been made that way, webbed-like, I wouldn’t be able to swim as I do. They really are a pair of fine paddles, you know.

There was a time when people in certain countries thought a Black Swan was an impossibility. As long as there were black sheep in the world, I don’t see why there shouldn’t have been Black Swans, do you?

Well, one day, a Dutch captain exploring a river in Australia, saw and captured four of the black fellows. That was way back in sixteen hundred and something, so that one of those very Black Swans must have been my great, great, great, great grandfather. Indeed he may have been even greater than that, but as I have never been to school, you know, I can’t very well count backward. I can move forward, however, when in the water. I make good time there, too.

Well, to go back to the Dutch captain. Two of the Swans he took alive to Dutchland and everybody was greatly surprised. They said “Ach!” and “Himmel,” and many other things which I do not remember. Since that time they say the Black Swans have greatly diminished in numbers in Australia. You will find us all over the world now, because we are so ornamental; people like to have a few of us in their ponds and lakes.

They say that river in Australia which the captain explored was named Swan river, and Australia took one of us for its armorial symbol. Well, a Black Swan may look well on a shield, but no matter how hard you may pull his tail-feathers, he’ll never scream like the American Eagle.

THE BLACK SWAN

AUSTRALIA is the home of the Black Swan, and it is invested by an even greater interest than attaches to the South American bird, which is white. For many centuries it was considered to be an impossibility, but by a singular stroke of fortune, says a celebrated naturalist, we are able to name the precise day on which this unexpected discovery was made. The Dutch navigator William de Vlaming, visiting the west coast of Southland, sent two of his boats on the 6th of January, 1697, to explore an estuary he had found. There their crews saw at first two and then more Black Swans, of which they caught four, taking two of them alive to Batavia; and Valentyn, who several years later recounted this voyage, gives in his work a plate representing the ship, boats, and birds, at the mouth of what is now known from this circumstance as the Swan River, the most important stream of the thriving colony of West Australia, which has adopted this Swan as its armorial symbol. Subsequent voyagers, Cook and others, found that the range of the species extended over the greater part of Australia, in many districts of which it was abundant. It has since rapidly decreased in number there, and will most likely soon cease to exist as a wild bird, but its singular and ornamental appearance will probably preserve it as a modified captive in most civilized countries, and it is said, perhaps even now there are more Black Swans in a reclaimed condition in other lands than are at large in their mother country.

The erect and graceful carriage of the Swan always excites the admiration of the beholder, but the gentle bird has other qualities not commonly known, one of which is great power of wing. The Zoologist gives a curious incident relating to this subject. An American physician writing to that journal, says that the first case of fracture with which he had to deal was one of the forearm caused by the blows of a Swan’s wing. It was during the winter of 1870, at the Lake of Swans, in Mississippi, that the patient was hunting at night, in a small boat and by the light of torches. In the course of their maneuvers a flock of Swans was suddenly encountered which took to flight without regard to anything that might be in the way. As the man raised his arm instinctively to ward off the swiftly rising birds, he was struck on his forearm by the wing of one of the Swans in the act of getting under motion, and as the action and labor of lifting itself were very great, the arm was badly broken, both bones being fractured.

When left to itself the nest of the Swan is a large mass of aquatic plants, often piled to the height of a couple of feet and about six feet in diameter. In the midst of this is a hollow which contains the eggs, generally from five to ten in number. They sit upon the eggs between five and six weeks.

It is a curious coincidence that this biographical sketch should have been written and a faithful portrait for the first time shown on the two hundredth anniversary of the discovery of the Black Swan.

LIFE IN THE NEST

Blithely twitting, gayly flittingThro’ the budding glen;Golden-crested, sunny-breasted,Goes the tiny Wren.Peeping, musing, picking, choosing,Nook is found at last;Moss and feather, twined together —Home is shaped at last.Brisk as ever, quick and clever,Brimming with delight —Six wee beauties, bring new duties,Work from morn to night.Peeping, musing, picking, choosing,Nook is found at last;Moss and feather, twined together —Home is shaped at last.– J. L. H.

THE SNOWY PLOVER

ABOUT one hundred species are comprised in the Plover family, which are distributed throughout the world. Only eight species are found in North America. Their habits in a general way resemble those of the true Snipes, but their much shorter, stouter bills are not fitted for probing, and they obtain their food from the surface of the ground. Probably for this reason several species are so frequently found on the uplands instead of wading about in shallow ponds or the margins of streams. They frequent meadows and sandy tracts, where they run swiftly along the ground in a peculiarly graceful manner. The Plovers are small or medium-sized shore-birds. The Snowy Plover is found chiefly west of the Rocky Mountains, and is a constant resident along the California coast. It nests along the sandy beaches of the ocean. Mr. N. S. Goss found it nesting on the salt plains along the Cimarron River in the Indian Territory, the northern limits of which extend into southwestern Kansas. The birds are described as being very much lighter in color than those of California. Four eggs are usually laid, in ground color, pale buff or clay color, with blackish-brown markings. Mr. Cory says the nest is a mere depression in the sand. He says also that the Snowy Plover is found in winter in many of the Gulf States, and is not uncommon in Northwestern Florida.

When the female Snowy Plover is disturbed on the nest she will run over the sand with outstretched wings and distressing gait, and endeavor to lead the trespasser away from it. It sometimes utters a peculiar cry, but is usually silent. The food of these birds consists of various minute forms of life. They are similar in actions to the Semi-palmated (see Birds), and fully as silent. Indeed they are rarely heard to utter a note except as the young are approached – when they are very demonstrative – or when suddenly flushed, which, in the nesting season, is a very rare thing, as they prefer to escape by running, dodging, and squatting the moment they think they are out of danger, in hopes you will pass without seeing them as the sandy lands they inhabit closely resemble their plumage in color, and says Mr. Goss, you will certainly do so should you look away or fail to go directly to the spot.

The first discovery of these interesting birds east of Great Salt Lake was in June, 1886. A nest was found which contained three eggs, a full set. It was a mere depression worked out in the sand to fit the body. It was without lining, and had nothing near to shelter or hide it from view.

ONLY A BIRD

Only a bird! and a vagrant boyFits a pebble with boyish skillInto the folds of a supple sling.“Watch me hit him. I can, an’ I will.”Whirr! and a silence chill and sadFalls like a pall on the vibrant air,From a birchen tree, whence a shower of songHas fallen in ripples everywhere.Only a bird! and the tiny throatWith quaver and trill and whistle of fluteBruised and bleeding and silent liesThere at his feet. Its chords are mute.And the boy with a loud and boisterous laugh,Proud of his prowess and brutal skill,Throws it aside with a careless toss.“Only a bird! it was made to kill.”Only a bird! yet far awayLittle ones clamor and cry for food —Clamor and cry, and the chill of nightSettles over the orphan brood.Weaker and fainter the moaning callFor a brooding breast that shall never come.Morning breaks o’er a lonely nest,Songless and lifeless; mute and dumb.– Mary Morrison.

THE LESSER PRAIRIE HEN

EXTENDING over the Great Plains from western and probably southern Texas northward through Indian Territory to Kansas is said to be the habitation of the Lesser Prairie Hen, though it is not fully known. It inhabits the fertile prairies, seldom frequenting the timbered lands, except during sleety storms, or when the ground is covered with snow. Its flesh is dark and it is not very highly esteemed as a table bird.

The habits of these birds are similar to those of the Prairie Hen. During the early breeding season they feed upon grasshoppers, crickets, and other forms of insect life, but afterwards upon cultivated grains, gleaned from the stubble in autumn and the corn fields in winter. They are also fond of tender buds, berries, and fruits. When flushed, these birds rise from the ground with a less whirring sound than the Ruffed Grouse or Bob White, and their flight is not as swift, but more protracted, and with less apparent effort, flapping and sailing along, often to the distance of a mile or more. In the fall the birds come together, and remain in flocks until the warmth of spring awakes the passions of love; then, in the language of Col. Goss, as with a view to fairness and the survival of the fittest, they select a smooth, open courtship ground, usually called a scratching ground, where the males assemble at the early dawn, to vie with each other in carnage and pompous display, uttering at the same time their love call, a loud, booming noise. As soon as this is heard by the hen birds desirous of mating, they quietly appear, squat upon the ground, apparently indifferent observers, until claimed by victorious rivals, whom they gladly accept, and whose caresses they receive. Audubon states that the vanquished and victors alike leave the grounds to search for the females, but he omits to state that many are present, and mate upon the “scratching grounds.”

The nest of the Prairie Hen is placed on the ground in the thick prairie grass and at the foot of bushes when the earth is barren; a hollow is scratched in the soil, and sparingly lined with grasses and a few feathers. There are from eight to twelve eggs, tawny brown, sometimes with an olive hue and occasionally sprinkled with brown.

During the years 1869 and 1870, while the writer was living in southwestern Kansas, which was then the far west, Prairie Chickens as they were called there, were so numerous that they were rarely used for food by the inhabitants, and as there was then no readily accessible market the birds were slaughtered for wanton sport.

THE NEW TENANTS

By Elanora Kinsley Marble

The next day Mrs. Jenny retired into the tin pot, and later, when Mr. Wren peeped in, lo! an egg, all spotted with red and brown, lay upon the soft lining of the nest.

“It’s quite the prettiest thing in the world,” proudly said Mr. Wren. “Why, my dear, I don’t believe your cousin, Mrs. John Wren, ever laid one like it. It seems to me those spots upon the shell are very remarkable. I shouldn’t be surprised if the bird hatched from that shell will make a name for himself in bird-land some day, I really shouldn’t.”

“You foolish fellow,” laughed Mrs. Wren, playfully pecking him with her bill, “if you were a Goose your Goslings, in your eyes, would all be Swans. That’s what I heard our landlady say to her husband last night, out on the porch, when he wondered which one of his boys would be president of the United States.”

Mr. Wren chuckled in a truly papa-like manner and pecked her bill in return, then fairly bubbling over with happiness flew to a neighboring limb, and burst into such a merry roundelay, one note tumbling over another in Wren fashion, that every member of the household came out to hear and see.