LESSON XXXI.
ON THE WING.
ROBERT O’ LINCOLN.
ROBERT O’ LINCOLN.
In the spring and summer, you go to field and garden, and you hear and see many birds. As you walk about the woods, you may see a dozen kinds of birds ina few minutes. There will go a yellow-bird, looking like a canary. There, all splendid in black and gold, an oriole is busy building his curious nest. There flies from the swamp a red-wing blackbird. A big woodpecker drums on the nearest tree. A bluebird with a russet breast sits singing on the top rail of a fence. Sparrows, swallows, crows, are everywhere.
Out of the grass whirrs up a lark with his brown and yellow coat, and black velvet collar. The thrush sings in a bush. The catbird, in the shade, cheers his mate with a rich, mellow note, and then darts out into the sunshine in his glossy drab dress.
But in late autumn, or in winter, you walk abroad, and where are all the birds? A crow may sit, scolding, on a dead limb. A social robin may flit down to your door. The velvet sparrows may be balls of noise and feathers. But where are the other birds? Are they all dead?
Oh, no! They have flown off to sunny lands, where they will have mild weather, and food in plenty, and green trees. The birdsmigrate. What is it to migrate? It is to go from one place to another a long way off. They migrate as the season changes.
Let us take that pretty bird, the bobolink, as anexample of a bird on his travels. In the winter months he is feasting and singing in the warm West India Islands. There he finds grubs, insects, and seeds in plenty. He grows so fat, that they call him the butter-bird.
About the first of April, he finds Jamaica too hot for him, and flies over to Georgia, or South Carolina. He settles in the rice-fields, and eats so much rice that he is a great trouble to the planters. They call him the rice-bird. But they are soon rid of him. About the middle of May, the rice-bird, with hundreds of his relations, goes up to Virginia and Pennsylvania.
At this time, he eats May-flies, caterpillars, and various insects. But his taste for seeds continues, and he devours the young wheat and barley at a great rate. The farmers name him the reed-bird. Many reed-birds are shot, and sent to market.
In spite of the guns, the bobolink seems now in the gayest hour of his life. He sings with all his might, and his black and white coat, with its touches of yellow, is at its best.
But again he starts northward. He goes up to New York, and New England, and appears in the orchards and wheat-fields, at the end of May, or the first of June. There he is called, from his song, the bobolink.
But Mr. and Mrs. Bobolink must now set themselves to the serious business of making a nest, and rearing a family. They choose a good nest place, and begin to build in a great hurry. Mrs. Bobolink is not so gayly dressed as her mate. She is brown, with a little dull yellow in her plumage.
Mr. Bobolink ends his wildest songs when the little birds come from the shells. Their mouths are always wide open, crying for food. Mr. Bobolink is very busy feeding his children. He flies back and forth all day long, bringing insects to his nursery. The gay concerts are ended.
At this time, too, Mr. Bobolink changes his clothes. He puts on a working suit, with more brown in it. His gay plumes do not come back until the next spring.
After the little ones learn to fly, in August, if it is hot, the whole family may go to Canada, for a trip. But as soon as the cool September mornings come, all the bobolinks think of the South. They gather in great companies, and turn their heads toward the West Indies.
Now and then, they may rest for a few hours, or a warm day or so, but they fly pretty steadily southward. When cold weather has come, we see no more bobolinks. They are all busy eating and singing in the sunny tropic lands.
I wish you would all read, and perhaps learn to recite a charming poem called “Robert o’ Lincoln.” It was written, by the great poet Bryant, about this little bird of many names, and many homes.
Now from the story of the bobolink, you see the manner of this migration of birds. You seewhybirds migrate. It is to keep where they find the food and the weather which they prefer. Itscauseis the change of the season. As the season changes the food changes.
Some birds move away because it is growing too hot where they are, and they like cooler places. Again, there are birds which stay near us in the winter, and fly North in the summer, almost to the land of constant snow.
Those birds which breed in the cold polar regions often find a winter home in the Northern States. But some birds which breed in the coldest climates fly to hot countries for their winter of rest and play.
When birds come in the spring, and leave in the fall, they rear their young where they make their summer home. We call them our summer birds.
Our winter birds are those which come to us in the cold weather, do not build nests near us, but fly away when the season grows warm. While they stay near us, they take shelter at night in shrubs or evergreen trees.
What we call birds of passage are birds that stop with us for only a few days, as they are flying long distances, half round the world, perhaps.
Then there are birds, as the robin, sparrow, thrush, which may stay all the year round near one place. In the warm weather they build nests, and rear their young. In cold weather, such birds are often driven near houses and barns to get food.
Crows may stay all winter in one place if food is plenty. If they cannot find enough to eat, they gather in great numbers, and fly to places where they will get more food.
When I was a child, I read that swallows, cuckoos, corn-crakes, and other birds, would lie torpid all winter. The book I read told me that the birds would cluster in great masses, silent, nearly frozen, eating nothing, and in the spring would wake up fresh and gay. That is not at all true. They do not lie torpid. They fly away.
Birds gather in great numbers, with much noise and flurry, to get ready for a trip. Crows, storks, cranes, swallows, and others, fly in great flocks. By the sea-side you may hear a far-off cry and a rush of wings, and looking up, you may see a flock of wild geese, or ducks, on their journey, flying far out over the water.
When a vast flock moves in this way, they seem to have some few wise old birds for guides, in advance, and some for guards on each side of the band. Geese fly in aV-shaped line, for hours at a time. When they need to stop for food, they break theVline and fly in disorder. They seem to search the ground for a feeding place. A cornfield suits them best, and they settle for a feast. If they cannot find a cornfield they will try a swamp.
Hawks travel over half the world. The hawk, which summers on the Scotch hills, may go to Egypt for winter, and perch on the pyramids. The stork, which the little Dutch children in Holland feed and love, may go to Africa for Christmas. The birds which you feed in July will be singing in Hayti or Brazil in January.
What is very strange is, that birds will, year after year, come back to the very place and nest that they left. The oriole, catbird, bluebird, jay, titmouse, and others, will each summer return to the same vine or tree, to build a new nest or repair the old one.
They come singing back, and we are glad to see them. But from their songs we get no news of the fair tropic lands where they have been happy amid rich fruits and flowers.