Bob-o-link
Bob-o-link
Thisis the familiar name of the Rice Bunting. He is about seven inches and a half long, of a deep black color, with the feathers edged with white and yellow. In Massachusetts, it is first seen in May, among the fields and meadows, which at that period begin to ring with its cheerful song. This is familiar to every school-boy, and is composed of sounds which resemble the words Bob-o-lee, Bob-o-linke. Mr. Nuttall, who has written several books about birds, says that as the Bob-o-link rises and hovers on the wing, near his mate, he seems to say—“Bob-o-link, Bob-o-link, Tom Denny, Tom Denny, come, pay me the two and sixpence you’ve owed me more than a year and a half ago! tshe, tshe, tsh, tsh, tshe!” He then dives down into the grass, as if to avoid a reply.
This bird builds its nest on the ground; it is formed of loose withered grass, and can scarcely be distinguished from the earth around it. The eggs are five or six, of a light olive color, spotted with brown. The male keeps up a continued song while his partner is sitting, as if to cheer her in her confinement; but when the young brood appear, this song is less frequent, and he joins his mate in the task of feeding and rearing them.
In August, the whole brood, old and young, set off for the south, where they spend the winter, gathering the wild rice of Delaware as they proceed, and offering great sport to the gunner. They swarm in the rice fields of Carolina and Georgia, and are much disliked by the planters for their voracity. They are excellent eating, being so fat when they reach the West Indies, as to be called Butter birds. Here they spend the winter, but never fail to return in the spring to their native meadows, where they feed on insects, worms, crickets, beetles, and also on grass seeds.
Boys are very fond of catching the Bob-o-link, which they sell for cages; but, although he is tolerably lively in captivity, yet no one who has seen and heard him at liberty, can take any pleasure in his deadened music and dulled plumage. In a state of nature all birds moult, that is, change their plumage, and after a time generally reappear in their former gay attire; but we have been told that the Bob-o-link, in captivity, after moulting once, never resumes the dress he wore in freedom; as if, absent from his mate, for whom alone he sung and plumed himself, it were of no consequence what his appearance might be. Let those of my little readers who have an opportunity of observing, see if this story be true.