Nests and Eggs of Birds of The United States

As these birds reach their breeding-grounds early in May, and instantly repair to nest-building, it is safe to assume that mating had been celebrated in their far-off southern homes, or is a matter that is entered into with but little show or affectation. Frequent visits to their haunts, at such times when one would expect to gain information on this point, have always been rewarded by seeing the busy creatures at work upon their nest. Their early movements are so secret and mysterious, that we hardly know anything of their presence except when they are colonized for the summer.

The labor of building is entered into with considerable alacrity, and is mainly the result of the combined action of both birds, for a period of five or six days. The exact time is hard to estimate, and is dependent upon the character of the structure, position, and the industry and patience of the architects. When the nest is placed horizontally upon the ground in the midst of a clump of sedges, it is loosely constructed, and costs but three days of steady workmanship. But when elevated to the tops of tussocks, or to the branches of shrubs and trees, where more compactness and finish are necessary, the time is essentially protracted. The disposition to nest in trees and bushes, which is now a prominent feature of the species, looks, at first sight, as if there would be, at an early day, an abandonment of old sites, and the taking on of new relations. While the species has thus gained a great advantage in lifting up its nest beyond the power of the waters to do it harm, it has, by selecting such growths in close contiguity to marshes, shown its predilection for such places, by reason of the facilities which they afford for food-detection.

Brewer describes the nest as being placed in low bushes, at a height of but a few feet from the ground. This is true in certain localities, but where there is a scarcity of such growths, as is the case where salt-water marshes abound, then the birds are compelled to resort to the sedges. In Atlantic County, N. J., in the summer of 1874, as many as fifty nests were seen and examined thus built, in less than an acre of ground. The same distinguished writer, in speaking of their composition, says "they are made externally of coarse sedges firmly interwoven, the interstices being cemented with clay or mud." And further, that the upper side of the entrance is "protected from the rain by a projecting edge." This may be true in certain places, but careful examinations of a score of nests from as many localities, remotely situated from each other, fail to show the existence of argillaceous or other elements, much less the trace of anything that might be exaggerated into a roof. Audubon describes it as being built among sedges, and as usually constructed in part of the sedges among which it is placed, a fact which we have repeatedly confirmed. Usually, when built along the margins of streams, or by the seashore, the nests are placed from two to two and a half feet high, so as to be beyond the reach of ordinary tides. Again, nidification commences at a time when there is little danger to be apprehended. But should there be an extraordinary rise of waters, and their home be destroyed, then like true Trojans, when the tide has subsided, they set zealously to work, and repair the damage. If irreparable, they succumb to fate, or rear their domicile anew. In selecting such a site for purposes of nesting, they must run the risk of having it submerged or demolished, but the chances against such a catastrophe's occurring, are numerous. These nests of ours, we are convinced, can withstand the beatings of a summer shower, as well as any whose walls are mud-cemented.

While some birds excel in singing, others are differently gifted, and show talents as peculiar and remarkable. Such is the case with the subject of our sketch. Denied the power of song, he has developed his faculties in the direction of architecture, not the least interesting part of his history being his curious habit of nidification. For convenience, comfort and durability his nest has few equals. It is a large bulky affair, in shape resembling a cocoanut, and is composed of the tops of coarse reeds and grasses woven together. This globe-like, hollow body is secured to the upright stems of the growing reeds, several of which usually pass through its substance, and supports a little hole on the side, which looks forward and down into a cosy chamber, that is well lined with finer leaves of grasses, the dermis of weeds, and a mixture of soft feathers and wool. In many specimens which we have met with from time to time, the opening is nearly concealed by the enveloping grasses, which seem to be purposely arranged with this object in view. Preparatory to entering the nest, the' stalks are thrust aside, and are as carefully readjusted when the bird is once there. On retiring, the same movements are necessary. The flexibility of the grass aids the birds very materially in these operations.

While most of the nests we have examined correspond in the main with the above description, we have occasionally met with some which constituted a noteworthy exception. These structures bear a close resemblance to those of the Maryland Yellow-throat in configuration, being nearly oven-shaped. In these cases the openings were large, about two inches in diameter, and occupied the anterior aspect. The materials of composition differed but little, on the outside, from those which are generally found in the typical nest, but, within, they consisted of fine grasses and silk-like threads of vegetable origin. This nest was placed on the ground.

The most beautiful nest which we have ever seen was obtained in the summer of 1878, in the vicinity of Philadelphia, by Isaac Reiff, Esq. It was placed upon a willow branch, at the height of about fifteen feet from the ground, and was newly built. In shape it was nearly globular, four and a half by five inches in the two diameters, and was woven of the broad leaves of a species of scirpus, closely and evenly, and had the interstices seamed with brownish down. The opening was hung with a thin, delicate curtain of gauze, of the same material, which was continued within, forming a thick bedding of the softest texture, of which the most voluptuous sybarite might envy its fortunate possessor. In shape and composition the nests which are found on bushes, bear a striking resemblance to the one just described, but usually lack its neat and elegant finish.

The number of structures that may sometimes be seen in a small stretch of marshy ground, within a few paces of each other, is so astounding, and apparently so disproportionate to the size of the community inhabiting it, as to lead to the suspicion that more nests are constructed than are really needed, the idea being that the nervous, energetic males keep up building operations while the females are incubating, as a sort of pastime, or because they have nothing else to do, and must have some employment for their excessive animal spirits. However this may be, the old nests remain intact a year or so before they crumble to pieces, which doubtless will, in a measure, account for the large numbers that are often to be seen.

The nest having been completed, a few days are allowed for drying before the female essays to deposit her chocolate-colored treasures, some six to nine in number. A day is allowed for each egg, usually, but we have found nests which showed that more than one had been laid on some days, but these were exceptional cases. The female is the first to incubate. When tired of the duty, she summons her companion, who is never far away, and resigns the care to him, while she strays off to a short distance for food and recreation. At such times, the males are exceedingly pugnacious, and will not allow any trespassers. The females, on the contrary, are less demonstrative. After fourteen days of close sitting and vigilance, the young appear, and need the most assiduous attentions. And such they receive. Few parents are more devoted. From early morning until night, the one or the other is on the go, in quest of some juicy morsel of insect-food for their keen appetites. And what is their reward? In a fortnight, a whole nest-full of bright, rollicking and chirping children. Proud of their charges, they still continue to care for them a week longer, when they lead them one by one out of the nursery, and introduce them to the world. The young are now old enough to encounter the dangers and trials of life, while the parents not contented with having successfully raised one family, after a brief season of repose, depart to a spot close-by, where they immediately rear another domicile, which they people as before. This occurs late in June, or early in July.

The eggs of this Wren are oval in shape; occasionally, spheroidal. They are generally marked, quite profusely, with blotches of deep chocolate-brown, so as to present an almost uniform appearance. Sometimes, a darker area is seen at the larger extremity, or around it. Again, specimens are met with which display a whitish ground, thickly dotted with chocolate, or a nearly uniform brownish-white surface, with a few of the characteristic blotches remaining, as if the color had been washed out. The average length of a set of nine before us is .65 inches, and average breadth .50, It is quite common to find a very large number of eggs, diminutive specimens, called "runt" eggs, which measure only .53 by .46.

Plate XLV. – COCCYZUS AMERICANUS, (Linn.) Bp. – Yellow-billed Cuckoo

The subject, whose habits we are about to introduce to our readers, has a wide range, and is variously distributed. It is found from Florida to Canada, and westward from the Atlantic to California. Audubon met with it along the Mississippi River, the upper branches of the Arkansas, and also in Upper Canada. Dr. Woodhouse found it quite common in New Mexico, Texas and the Indian Territory. In Nebraska it appears to be exceedingly rare, as it was only seen on two occasions by Ridgway in the summer of 1867. Wilson traced it north to Lake Ontario, from the Choctaw and Chickasaw nations. Outside of the United States, on the south, it has been observed by various parties: Newton, upon St. Croix Island; Gosse, in Jamaica; Salvin, in Central America; Lembeye, in Cuba; and even as far south as Buenos Ayres.

Respecting its eastern record of distribution, writers on ornithology are pretty generally agreed. West of the Rocky Mountains, its range is not so well made out. Early observers accredited it to Oregon, but, in recent times, there has not appeared any confirmation of their statements. Its presence, even in California, was for a long time doubted, and it was thought that, as the notes of the Burrowing Owl resembled those of the Cuckoo, many may have been deceived thereby. So close is the likeness, that Dr. Coues acknowledges that he would have been deluded himself, had he not been forewarned. According to Cooper the noise produced by the Spade-footed Toad exhibits marked similarity. But there is now no longer any hesitancy in including it in the avi-fauna of that State.

We are first apprised of the coming of this species into our midst by the peculiar notes which it emits. These sound like the syllables koo-koo-koo. As they are probably more frequently uttered on the approach of falling weather than at any other time, both it and its nearest relation – the Black-billed Cuckoo – have received the vulgar appellation of "Rain Crow" for the same uncouth guttural notes are uttered, in the same plaintive manner, and on similar occasions, by both birds, with this exception, however, that the Yellow-billed is noisier, and more forcible in its expressions.

From its first advent late in April, or early in May, until it takes up the line of flight southward in September, this bird startles us by its eccentric behavior. Though remarkably shy and unsociable, it is less so than its congener. In Eastern Pennsylvania, it seldom inhabits high, open woods, for which the latter has a fondness, but manifests a strong preference for low hedges along the borders of fields and public roads, or an isolated pine or apple tree in orchard or garden. In the latter place it is as often seen in the lower, as in the upper, branches. Places remote therefrom, in other States, show a marked change in this respect. Not only does it betray an instinctive dread of man, by seeking the summits of the tallest trees in loose woods, or those of large shade-trees in our city parks, but it also studies how best to conceal itself from his gaze. Though ordinarily hidden birds, but when in search of the various winged insects which contribute to their sustenance, they show rather conspicuously. But they are oftener heard than seen. When ready to change their position, they maintain a long silence, and being assured that the coast is clear, stealthily glide from their perches, and on rapid, noiseless pinions, wend their flight to the coveted spot. On attaining which, they stand like statues for a long time, utter their famous cry, and when surfeited with the sights about them, renew their flight. Thus they keep it up until called to desist therefrom by household duties.

Few species manifest more strongly the faculty of curiosity. When nestled in umbrageous security, so artfully concealed as to elude the keen gaze of detection, this bird is wont to eye everything with inquisitiveness and distrust. Peering down upon you through the dense foliage, there is nothing in its looks to command your pity; but you are reminded of one who has been guilty of wrong, and who fears the consequences. Where accustomed to man, a radical change seems to come over its demeanor. The eye looks out with a milder expression. When we remember that, like the Jays, these birds are abandoned thieves who pilfer the eggs of other and weaker birds, and even devour their helpless offspring, we are not surprised that they should be so sneaking in their actions, and cowardlike. But when the mating period arrives, one would think that the arousing of the hitherto dormant amatory forces into normal activity, would tend to soften their natures, and call into play a better state of feelings. So it does, but only so far as to reconcile the sexes to each other, and force them to forsake their selfish lives. Towards other species they still preserve the same unfriendly relations.

The male, who arrives ten days before the female, is the first to experience a desire for a change of life. Tired of aimless wanderings, he goes off in search of a companion. He is not long in finding one. A recital of his love, in his own peculiar fashion, soon gains a willing listener, and business is settled in an instant. There is none of that amusing frivolity which is known to mark the actions of many of our feathered creatures. He proposes, she accepts, and the matrimonial knot is tied, at least, for another season. While the sexes do not manifest any apparent regard for each other for two or three weeks after their first arrival, being chiefly absorbed in the procurement of food, yet they do not wholly desert each other, but feed within calling distance. From long observations, continued through nearly two decades, we are led to believe that the same birds mate annually, unless prevented by the death of one or the other.

In the choice of a tree these birds are somewhat fastidious in some localities. A preference is often manifested for some species of evergreen, but not unfrequently are they tempted to nest in an osage orange, a barberry bush, a thorn, or an apple. The kind of a bush or tree will doubtless be found to vary with locality. While engaged in looking for a suitable nesting place, the male is very attentive to his partner, and cannot brook her absence. He watches with jealous eye her every movement, and follows her in all her journeyings. Though usually quite cowardly, he is at these times very brave, and will venture to attack any bird that happens near. But as his cowardice is proverbial, he rarely succeeds with birds of his own size, and is often compelled to retire from the battle discomfited.

When a tree is chosen, the happy pair proceed to build their loose, rickety dwelling upon a forked or horizontal branch, at elevations varying from five to seldom more than twenty feet, according to our experience. The nest may be compared to a miniature Crow's. It is mainly composed of small sticks and some grasses, artlessly and loosely interlaced, and so unsubstantial, that it scarcely survives the season. The cavity is quite shallow. The dimensions vary somewhat with the locality, but a specimen before us measures seven inches in diameter, and about three in height. The cavity is nearly four inches wide, and less than one in depth. The construction of such a loose affair ordinarily requires but two days, and is the result of the united efforts of both birds, working with commendable patience and zeal, but not continuously.

As soon as the domicile is finished, the female, after a day spent in congratulating her lord upon their combined success, proceeds to furnish it. This business continues for many days, varying according to the number of eggs laid, and the irregularity in time of laying, eggs being frequently deposited about the time that others are hatching. Nests are often found with a single fresh egg in each, another partly incubated, a newly-hatched bird, and one or more young still further advanced. But, as a rule, only a single egg is daily deposited. Incubation, in the latitude of Philadelphia, often commences when only two eggs are deposited, but instances are recorded where such was the case after the first extrusion, the female depositing others as the process goes on. This seems like a strange fancy of hers, but evidently shows great forethought and prevision.

The rude house which is built for the accommodation of the eggs, being open and much exposed, and made of seemingly unsuitable materials, fails to provide the necessary protection, and thus is necessitated close and arduous sitting by both birds. The hatching of a few young birds at the time when eggs are being laid, secures the continued warmth necessary for development, and thus materially aids parental exertions. In many instances the eggs are deposited before the incubating process has commenced. The time required for hatching is about fourteen days.

While this business is progressing, the male, when not upon the nest, seldom forsakes his partner, save to provide himself and her with food. Perched upon a small limb close-by, he seems all vigilance, and is in constant readiness to reply to her calls. Feelings of the most devoted affection are mutually exchanged. If the eggs are handled, prior to the assumption of incubation, the birds are apt to desert the nest; but when this has commenced, the female is so attached to her young that she will almost permit herself to be captured rather than leave them. If forced to vacate, we have never known her to precipitate herself upon the ground, and seek, by her fluttering and personation of lameness, to draw the intruder away, as Nuttall affirms, but have always observed her to take a position upon a tree in the immediate vicinity, where she would sit silently and demurely contemplating the purposed desecration. Mr. Newton, in his paper on the habits of the birds of St. Croix Island, testifies to the conjugal affection which is evinced by these birds. On one occasion a male had been killed. The female, attracted by his shriek as he fell to the ground, appeared upon the scene, and showed the most intense anxiety.

In the summer of 1872, a nest of this species was placed upon a tree within full view of our window, from which the minutest details of the every-day life of these birds could be closely studied. Children in their plays would frequently pass under the tree while the birds were engaged in breeding, but the latter were so intent upon the work that their presence was unheeded. The nest was completed, eggs were deposited and hatched, and the young matured, the parent birds evidently feeling as secure as in more retired situations. On this occasion it was discovered that when the young were all hatched together, the duty of feeding devolved upon one or the other parent, both never being absent from the nest at the same time. But, on the other hand, where the young are hatched at irregular intervals, the non-incubating bird assumes the duty of providing nourishment both for his mate and early-hatched young, while the other is occupied with the cares of incubation. When the young are able to quit the nest, which they do in little more than a fortnight after hatching, the parents hail the event with great joy. Their efforts to induce them from the nest at first are rather amusing, and evince extreme patience and thorough good-will. But when the step is once taken, their odd, curious gestures betoken the highest pleasure and satisfaction. The young are now almost old enough to care for themselves.

Never more than a single brood is annually raised in Pennsylvania, although Mr. Nuttall affirms that several are brought out, according to his observations. His opinion appears to have been based upon the discovery of eggs as late as August 28. In some localities this may be so, but we cannot find any record thereof. The same distinguished writer has recorded the finding of a Cuckoo's egg in the nest of a Catbird, and another as late as the fifteenth of July, in a Robin's nest. These were considered at first as rare, if not incredible instances, but latterly, we have some well-authenticated cases of such parasitism. These observations, coupled with others equally as important which have been recorded, tend to show a close relationship between our American Cuckoo and their not very distant European brother.

The eggs of this bird are oblong-oval, less spherical than those of the Black-bill, and have an equal obtuseness at each end. They are of light bluish-green color, and, like those of the other, are quite apt to fade on exposure to light, thus rendering them difficult of distinction. The average measurement is 1.22 inches in length, and .94 in width, although specimens are occasionally found which show marked variations in size, some being smaller, but few exceeding these dimensions.

Plate XLVI. – ICTERIA VIRENS, (Linn.) Baird. – Yellow-breasted Chat

Probably no species possesses greater peculiarities of voice, manners and habits than the one we are about to notice. Somewhat terrestrial in life, frequenting tangled vines and brambles, it seemingly abhors publicity, and is best pleased when under concealment. When hid away in its almost inaccessible retreats it is hard to locate, and this difficulty is enhanced by its wonderful powers of ventriloquism. It is a restless being, however, delighting in new sights and scenes, and though its movements are well-timed and silent, yet it does not always escape detection.

Its distribution throughout the United States is somewhat restricted, and its abundance in any given locality is uncertain. It ranges from Florida to Massachusetts, and as far to the west as Fort Riley and Eastern Kansas. Among the Rocky Mountains to the northward, it has been observed to reach the sources of the Arkansas. In Massachusetts, it is not uncommon, and a few are known to breed at Lynn, Farther northward, on the Atlantic seaboard, we have no mention of it. In Central New York it is a very rare summer visitor, and in Southern Illinois we learn that it breeds in common with the Maryland Yellow-throat, but diminishes in numbers to the north. Mexico and Guatemala claim it in their avi-fauna, but there are no records of its inhabiting any of the West India Islands.

From their winter resorts, long after the Thrushes and Sparrows have reached their summer homes, these Chats, in the company of the vast army of Warblers of which they are a part, take up their flight late in April, but it is not until the first week of May that they reach Pennsylvania. Other portions of their limited habitat are attained at nearly the same time. But it is the males who first appear. For reasons, which we do not understand, the females are slow in making their appearance, and do not arrive until three days later.

Once arrived, they keep aloof from cultivated domains, and spend their time in the dense underbrush of high woods, or in the clumps of briers of unimproved fields. Few birds manifest greater shyness. Whether this character can be attributed to timidity, we cannot say, but we are rather prone to believe it is only assumed in order to conceal their purposes and doings the better. When nurseries of young trees are visited, even though they should be situated close-by occupied dwellings, which is sometimes the case, we cannot perceive any difference in their conduct.