Birds and Nature, Vol. 10 No. 4 [November 1901] - Various страница 3.

The pair of Turtle Doves nestled closer together and again sang, Coo, coo we will stay, too. Everybody smiled at their loving peace of mind.

I have already begun to hollow out a hole in a high tree for my winter home, said Downy Woodpecker.

So have I, said the pretty Golden Winged Woodpecker, who is nicknamed High Hole; and it is in a place that just suits me in the tip top of a very tall tree.

Mr. Nut Hatch rose to his feet. I too hammer into cracks and holes such things as sunflower seeds, corn and nuts for winter use. Mr. Chickadee and I have agreed to work together. I hunt only on the trunks and larger limbs, leaving the smaller branches for friend Chickadee. If he can not find quite enough he knows how to hunt around houses. Children who see him only when snow is on the ground call him Snowbird and sometimes kindly throw him crumbs.

I can eat buds of some trees and seeds, too, added Mr. Chickadee.

Just then a Northern Shrike alighted in their midst. In an instant there was a flutter of great alarm. The cool headed chairman bade everybody to sit still and he would see to it that nobody was hurt. Because of his cruelty, you know, the Shrike is often called Mr. Butcher Bird. He catches other birds which he hangs on great thorns while he tears and eats their flesh. Even the English Sparrows are afraid of him.

Chairman Eagle explained the purpose of their meeting and Mr. Shrike promised to hurt no one. Looking around he said, I have just come from my summer home in the north to spend the winter with you. I see gay little Winter Wren hopping around. As soon as there comes a northern snowfall heavy enough to cover the weed seeds there Mr. and Mrs. Snow Bunting will join us.

How glad we will be to see them; glad to see them! chattered happy Chickadee. We will have a jolly game of snowball. Chick-a-dee-dee-dee! Da-da-day! And he hopped along and around a branch one of the most lighthearted creatures living.

Mr. English Sparrow wished to say something. Our flock can always find a warm place and something

Just then a hoarse voice was heard calling, Who, who, who, who, ar-r-r-re you? As the feathered people must ever be on the alert to protect their lives, in a second all was as quiet as the grave. Thinking that some better dressed bird only meant to make fun of him and his many wives Mr. English Sparrow flew into a passion and began to pull off his coat.

Mr. Eagle told the crowd that there was no need of a scare. That, said he, is only Mr. Barred Owl in yon tree. He has been roused by our talking. Put on your coat, foolish Mr. Sparrow.

Mr. Jay could not let slip the chance to twit his neighbor. Ha, ha! said he; you had better get enough more wives to teach you how to behave yourself.

Everyone looked around laughing. Thinking that night had come and that his friends from the next timber had come to make a call, Mr. Owl again broke out: He-he-he-he, hi-hi-hi-hi, ha-ha-ha-ha!

Mr. English Sparrow was vexed and ashamed, but being afraid to get into a fight he flew off.

As it was getting late in the day the chairman said that the meeting must close. It is useless to talk longer, said he. It is plain that our pretty Meadow Larks and other insect eating birds must move or starve. We shall be very sorry to see them leave and hope to meet them again on their return next spring. They are needed at the south. May God speed their journey.

But some of us must remain or shirk our duty. The Turkey Buzzards and their helpers must be here to clean up the fields and groves and to clear away dead things washed ashore. If these things are not done the foul air next spring may make much sickness. Woodpeckers must keep at their work or plants will suffer next summer. Those who can eat seeds must be active or the farmers will not be able to keep down the weeds. Grouse, Jay, Wax Wing and others who can manage berries and nuts must not leave or in a few years trees and underbrush will be so thick that there will not be room for them to branch out. Even our hated Mr. English Sparrow is needed to pick up droppings in the street and waste around houses. We are all needed each to do his own bit of work in his own place and way. Although that may not be just what we prefer, may we all do our duty just as cheerfully as mans friend, Mr. Turkey Buzzard, does his unpleasant tasks.

THE FIELD SPARROW

(Spizella pusilla.)

The Field Sparrow is the smallest of our sparrows and is quite easily distinguished from the other species by its reddish bill. The common name is misleading, and perhaps it would be more appropriate to call this bird the Bush Sparrow, a name by which it is frequently known. Instead of the field it seems to prefer the pasture, with its weeds and bushes. It will also frequent the shrubby thickets that follow the removal of a forest. This shy bird has a somewhat extensive range, which includes the eastern United States and Southern Canada. It passes the winter months chiefly in those states south of the Ohio river.

The Field Sparrow when frightened does not retreat to the cover of foliage, as does the Song Sparrow, but flies to an exposed position on top of bush or low tree, where it can watch and await developments. In the fall they frequently gather in small flocks. If disturbed all will fly to the nearest bushes, and in perching will cluster close together.

The Field Sparrow is all the more interesting because of its shyness. Mr. Keyser speaks of it as a captivating little bird, graceful of form and sweet of voice, singing his cheerful trills from early spring until far past midsummer. The song makes me think of a silver thread running through a woof of golden sunshine, carried forward by a swinging shuttle of pearl. Mr. Chapman says: There is something winning in his appearance; he seems such a gentle, innocent, dove-like little bird. His song is in keeping with his character, being an unusually clear, plaintive whistle, sweeter to the lover of birds songs than the voice of the most gifted songstress. It is not possible to describe the song in words, for it varies greatly. No two birds seem to have the same song and the same bird may vary its song. Locality also seems to affect its character. It is the sweetest at the going down of the sun and in the early twilight. To hear it then, in the absence of all other sounds, is indeed soul inspiring.

Its delicate nest, too, becomes the lovely character of this little bird. This small house is usually placed near the ground in a low shrub, or on the ground where it is well protected by tall grasses. The nests are not usually found near fence rows, but rather in less public places, on hillsides and nearer the center of the field. When possible, a thorny bush is chosen. The nest is constructed of fine grasses and very fine roots loosely woven together and lined with finer grasses, hair and the delicate bark fibers.

Writing of the finding of a Field Sparrows nest near the top of a hill, some one has said: How beautiful for situation is this tiny cottage on the hill! Here the feathered poets may sit on their leafy verandas, look down into the green valleys and compose verses on the pastoral attractions of Nature. One is almost tempted to spin a romance about the happy couple.