LESSON XXXIV.
THE BIRDS OF SONG.
The woods and the fields would be very dull and silent without the song of the birds. Even the shrill chirp of the sparrow is a pleasant sound to hear. It gives us an idea of happy life.
A JOYFUL SONG.
A JOYFUL SONG.
We will now talk a little about our best song birds. Let us take the catbird first, as that is common in all parts of the country. It is a pretty drab and black bird, about nine inches long.
Tom said to me, “A catbird cannot sing; it gets its name because it squalls like a cat.” True, Tom, the bird has that harsh note for you, and to frighten off snakes and other enemies. But you listen to him when he sits in the shade, and sings to himself, or makes his best song for Mrs. Catbird.
Ah, there is a song for you! Mellow and full, and rich as the tones of a mocking-bird! Now he trills, now he whistles, now he imitates the songs of all the sweetest singers of the wood. He can almost outdo the mocking-bird. He sits in his shady covert, and seems to be laughing at all the other singers, as he borrows their music.
First, he breaks out into the oriole’s song; then he calls like a jay; next he chatters like a sparrow; then he whistles like a thrush; then he gives you a little warble from the bluebird’s music-book. In every song he gives exactly the notes he copies.
A pair of catbirds built in a honeysuckle by my window. I found they were very loving birds. At a cry of pain from Mrs. Catbird or the little ones, the father-bird would come flying back, almost in fits with distress.
He would fly round and round to seek the cause of their trouble. If he found any enemy, which hecould not drive away, he called so loudly and sadly that all the birds near came in haste to help him.
The catbird is one of the bravest of the feathered race. He will fight and drive off a snake. I have seen him defend his home against a jay, a crow, or a squirrel.
A near relative of the catbird is the blackbird. This is a gay and happy creature. All the warm weather it pipes sweetly, as it flies here and there. The red-wing, or colonel blackbird, lives in swamps. The green-breasted blackbird likes a drier home.
Blackbirds are social in their habits. You seldom see one or two alone. If you see one near your home, you will soon see or hear more. They build their nests early in the spring. Young blackbirds are among the first birds fledged in a season.
The nest is large, and often lined with mud. When the mud dries, the nest is like a rude cup. Then a soft lining is put in for a bed. In this nest are laid five eggs of a blue-gray color, dashed with red or brown.
The blackbird is very brave, and will drive a cat or a snake from his home. I have seen him chase a squirrel from his tree.
Pleasant as is the blackbird’s note, he cannot rival the thrush. Among all our birds of song, I think the thrush is best known and best loved. This is a small bird, of dusky brown and white, the under part of its body being yellowish white, with black spots. These birds are fond of woody places, and live alone or in pairs. During the middle of the day they are silent.
If you wish to hear the thrush at his best, listen to him in the early morning, or about sundown, when he takes his place on the top twig of the tallest tree he can find. He begins with a clear, sweet sound, like a German flute. Next he trills some notes like the tinkle of a chime of silver bells. Then he pours out a full, rich song, and repeats it several times.
Soon you will hear some other thrush, from another tall tree, answer him. They seem to try which can sing the best. They keep up the concert until the stars come out, and the fireflies flit among the grasses.
The food of the thrush is insects and berries. While he chooses a high place to sing from, he builds low. He finds a laurel or alder bush which is hung with some kind of wild vine, as the Virginia creeper. There he piles up a quantity of witheredbeech-leaves. On these he makes a nest of grass, plastered with mud. It is lined with fine root-fibres. In this nest are laid four or five light-blue eggs, without spots or marks.
Often, if you follow the windings of a shaded brook, you may see the thrush playing along above the waters.
When the thrush migrates, he travels by day, and rests at night. When he alights to sleep, he erects his tail-feathers, and ruffles up the feathers on his head. Then he gives a few low calls, hops along the branches, and bends his head down to peep below, and see if all is safe for the night. In fact, from first to last, the song-thrush is a dear and well-behaved little bird.