THE CROW FAMILY
(Corvidæ)[17]
Thisis a large family. Some of our most intelligent birds belong to it. There are first the crows, much larger than a robin and dressed in black. They have long, pointed wings, and tails square at the end. They live in a crowd, and walk on the ground.
Then there are the jays, about the size of a robin, all bright-colored birds. They have short, rounded wings, and long tails which come down almost to a point in the middle.
And then the magpies, between the other two in size. They have tails longer and more pointed than the jays, and are dressed in black with showy white markings.
The commonAmerican Crowis a bird that everybody knows. He lives all over our country, and seems to like one part as well as another.There is enough to be said about this bird to fill this whole book. So I shall not try to tell all about him.
The crow is thought by many people to be the most knowing bird in America, and he is the one who has been most abused. He does some mischief, it is true, but he does a great deal more good. So say the officers of the Department who have looked into his food. They have found that he does pull up some corn; but he stuffs himself and his family with thousands, and even millions, of grubs, and insects, and mice, and other small creatures, that would have done far more damage to the crops than he.
Farmers have often killed or driven away the crows, because they thought they were hurting their crops. But sometimes they have found out their mistake, and have been glad to get them back again.
A story comes from the West which shows what I mean. One year the farmers were alarmed to see a great many crows around their fields. They had never seen so many there. Of course they thought they had come to eat the corn, so they began to kill them. I won't tell you the ugly story of the war against the birds. After it had gone on awhile, the farmers began to notice that crows were not the only ones whohad come. A new grub that they had never seen before was on hand. There were millions of them, and they were always hungry. Young corn plants seemed to suit them, and when corn was gone, they began eating the grass.
It never came into the farmers' heads that the birds had anything to do with the grubs. So they kept up their war on the crows till few were left.
It's easier to drive away birds than insects, so the grubs went on eating. There were no crows left to trouble, and yet the crops got smaller every year. At last some one had sense enough to see that the crows had come on purpose to eat the grubs, and that they had driven away their best friends, the most useful helpers they could possibly have.
When they saw how stupid they had been, they began to coax the birds back. They sent out and had crows caught and brought to their fields to work for them. The birds took hold of the business, and made short work of the corn-eating grub, and the farmers learned a good lesson.
You may think it strange that the crows should know where the grubs were, but birds are very sharp to find their food. It is well known that when there gets to be an unusualnumber of insects in one place, more birds will come to feed on them. Some time when you are in the country when grass is cut, notice how many birds will come to eat the grasshoppers and other creatures that are uncovered when the hay is taken away.
The crows take the same fair way of going to roost that the Brewer's blackbirds do.
I could tell you stories—true ones, too—all day about this bird, and his services to the farmer. We all know how wise he is, and how hard it is to trap him.
I will give you one little story, to show his kindness to his fellows. Then, when you have a chance to watch one, I hope you will take pains to see for yourself what he does and what he eats. Do not believe all you hear or read about him, for I'm sorry to say there are some persons who like so well to tell a sensational story that they do not take any trouble to find out if it is true.
The story is this. Two crows were caught and kept in a large cage out of doors. It happened to be a time when food for birds was rather scarce. Some one noticed that the birds seemed to eat a good deal, and he set himself to watch them. He found that the prisoners in the cage were giving some of their food through the barsto their hungry friends outside. Could men be more unselfish?
There is no end to the funny pranks that are told of crows who have been tamed and lived with people. One that I heard of liked to get out in the yard when clothes from the wash were hung out. He would walk along on the clothesline and pull out every clothespin, carrying each one to the roof and laying it safely away. Of course this let the wet garments fall in the dirt, and he was scolded well for his mischief. Then he would fly up to the roof and throw every pin down to the ground, as if he said, "Well, take your old clothespins!"
Another tame crow was very fond of pulling over a work-basket, and scattering the spools and thimbles and other things in it. One day he got hold of a paper of needles. This he opened, and then went on to hide them, which crows always like to do with everything. He took each needle and pushed it into the bed, as if it were a cushion, and hammered each one in out of sight.
I hope you know theBlue Jay. He is a beautiful bird in different shades of blue, set off with white and black, and with a fine crest. His mate is the same. This is the jay we know in the East and South.
black and white photo of bluejayBLUE JAY
He is a noisy bird, full of fun and antics. He makes himself heard wherever he goes. This has given him the name of being quarrelsome. It is often said that he is always fighting. But that is a mistake, made because people do not look closely enough. He is boisterous and jolly, but he rarely quarrels.
There is one time in his life when he is as still as a mouse. Then he comes to his tree so quietly that you cannot hear him. That is when there is a nest to look after.
The nest of a blue jay is usually not very high, in a tree. While his mate is sitting, he takes the best care of her. He brings food to her, and often sings to her. This song is very low; one can hardly hear it; but it is one of the sweetest of bird songs.
No bird is more loving to his little folk than the blue jay, and not one is more frantic when anything happens to them. James Russell Lowell, the poet, loved the birds, and has written delightful things about them. He once found a family of young blue jays who seemed to be in trouble. He had a ladder brought, and went up to the nest to see if he could help them. He found that they had got caught in the nest lining, and could not get away. They were full grown, and the old birds had worked hard from morning till night to keep them fed.
As soon as Mr. Lowell saw what was the matter, he took out his knife to cut the strings that held them. At first when he came near, the old birds were very much frightened. They flew around his head and cried, and were going to fight him. But jays are wise birds, and in a moment they saw that he did not mean to hurt them. So they perched close by him, so near he could put his hand on them. Then they watched him while he cut the little ones loose. All of them could fly, and they did, at once.
One of the nestlings had been so tightly held that one leg was withered and dead, but the next day Mr. Lowell saw him hopping about the garden path, on one leg, while his parents brought him food, and took great care of him.
The blue jay, like most birds, is kind to others. One man found a little flock taking care of an old, blind jay. They fed him, and led him to water to bathe. They warned him of danger, and in every way looked out for his comfort as if he were a nestling.
Besides being a singer, this bird is a mimic. He can imitate the songs of other birds, as well as many other sounds. A lady once had a blue jay who had fallen from the nest. She brought him up, and he was very tame. She told me that he learned to sing like a mockingbird, and didit almost as well. This bird was very fond of her. When she tried to give him his freedom, he wouldn't have it. If she slipped away from him, he would sit up in a tree and scream like a lost child. Then, when she came into his sight, he would fly down to her shoulder and rub his head against her cheek like a kitten, he was so happy to be back with her.
The blue jay is a useful bird. Dr. Brewer says that one pair of jays will feed their young in one season five hundred thousand caterpillars; also that one pair of jays will destroy one million insect eggs in a winter.
Many hard things have been said about this bird,—for one thing, that he eats eggs and young birds. You will notice, however, that many who repeat these stories about him say, "I have not seen the bird do so, but some one else has." Testimony like this is worth nothing. Such things are copied from one book to another because it is much easier to take what is set down in the books than to go out and see for one's self. Often a story which has no truth in it is said over and over till people believe it because they have heard it so often.
Believe me, the blue jay is not half so bad as he is painted, and he has many lovable traits to make up for what he does do.
Mr. Keyser brought up a young blue jay from the nest. He put him for a while into a cage with two young orioles. Like all young birds, all three of the youngsters were hungry, and expected everybody to feed them. So the young jay opened wide his mouth, and waited for something good to drop into it. He was met by the two orioles with their mouths wide open. There they stood, face to face, all asking to be fed. It was a funny sight.
Then the blue jay baby was put into another cage, where were two young catbirds. To these he was very loving. He would sidle up to them and caress them, stroking their backs and wings with his bill. He insisted on sleeping between the two on the perch. He looked very droll with a small bird on each side of him, all snuggled up together.
After a while the blue jay had a whole cage to himself. Then the other cages were moved to the front porch, and he was left alone on the back porch. This did not please him at all; he was lonely. He called and cried and fretted about till he was placed beside the others. Then he gave a cry of joy, and really squealed with delight.
The West is richer than the East in jays.There are several in the Rocky Mountains and California.Steller's Jayis said to represent the Eastern bird I have been telling about. He is different in looks and larger. He is darker blue, with some sooty brown, and he has a fine crest. But he is the same noisy, jolly fellow as his cousin on the Atlantic side of the country.
If your home is in the West, beyond the Mississippi River, of course you know theAmerican Magpie. He is a large, splendid fellow, who looks especially fine when he is flying over your head.
magpie in fir branchesAMERICAN MAGPIE
The magpie is all in black and white: white below and in shoulder patches, and black on the breast and above. In the sunlight he shows purple and blue and green shades over the black. He has a very long tail, which is wide in the middle and runs down almost to a point at the end. This is very showy, when he spreads it wide in flying.
In California the magpie shows a curious variation. On one side of the mountains the magpie has a yellow bill, but the magpie on the other side has a black one, though in every other way they seem to be the same.
The magpie is a social bird. Even in nesting time he likes plenty of neighbors. A party ofthem will settle in a little grove and build several nests in it. The nests of this bird are the queerest bird homes you ever saw. They look like big covered baskets. They are half the size of a bushel basket, and made of sticks outside. There is an opening on each side for the bird to go in and out. Those I have seen were in the tops of low trees.
The beautiful tail of the magpie seems to be a great care to him. When he flies,—as I said,—he spreads it wide and makes a great show with it. When he is going about on a tree, he jerks and twitches it all the time. No doubt every jerk means something, if we could only understand. When on the ground, he holds the precious tail up carefully, so that it shall not touch the earth. He is a very dignified bird when walking about in this way, looking for the grubs, grasshoppers, crickets, and other creatures on which he feeds. But sometimes he has no dignity at all. He scolds, and screams, and acts like a bad child. He isn't particular about his food. He will eat almost anything, even scraps from a kitchen.
Major Bendire tells a comical story of the cunning of some magpies in getting food away from a dog. The dog carried his bone with some meat on it to the lawn in front of themajor's tent, and lay down to enjoy it, dog-fashion. In a minute or two, a little party of six magpies came around, probably hoping to be invited to dinner. The dog did not take the hint, but went on gnawing.
Then the birds seemed to consider, and after a few minutes they placed themselves around the dog. One stood right in front of his nose about two feet away. Another one took his place close to the dog's tail, while two stood on each side.
When all the birds were ready, the one by the tail gave it a sharp peck. No dog could stand that insult. The victim forgot his bone, wheeled around, and dashed after that bird. He did not catch him with the first grab, and the wily bird fluttered away. He did not go fast enough to show the dog he could not catch him, but he led him on and kept him eager to get at him as long as he could.
But what happened to the dog's dinner all this time? Of course you have guessed that the instant the dog left, the five hungry magpies pounced upon the bone. They didn't mind eating at the second table. They knew their time was short, and they made good use of it. I'm afraid they "gobbled."
When the dog saw that he couldn't catch the magpie, he thought of his dinner, and cameback. The birds stepped one side, and he took his place again.
Of course the birds were not half satisfied, and besides, one of them had not had even a taste. So they made ready to play the little trick again. Now see their fair play with one another! The bird who had coaxed the dog away had his turn at the head of the table, while another one did the teasing. They repeated this several times, and each time a different bird led the dog away.
The major was a trained observer, and he could tell the birds apart. One had a longer tail, another had a broken feather, and another was smaller. So he could easily see that each time a different bird had the best chance. He was sure they had planned the whole thing out.
I once had a chance to study the ways of some magpies. The birds were busy in their nests, and I was well hidden and quiet, so they did not see me. I heard much soft, gentle talk from them, and at last a sweet song. I was much surprised at this, and hoped to know a good deal more about them, but the next time I called on them, they saw me. Such a row as they made! They flew around my head, shouting and screaming at me, till I was glad to get out of the grove. I could not blame the birds,for magpies are much prized as cage-birds. They readily learn to talk, and are intelligent and interesting pets, so that the nests are robbed all the time. Of course they are ready to fight for their little ones.
FOOTNOTE:[17]SeeAppendix, 16.
[17]SeeAppendix, 16.
[17]SeeAppendix, 16.
THE LARK FAMILY
(Alaudidæ)[18]
Thereare a good many kinds of larks in the world, but only one comes to us, theHorned Lark, or shore lark. He differs a little in color in the various places he is found over our broad country, but not enough to call him another species.
In places where there is a great deal of rain, birds take on a slightly different shade from their brothers who live in dry places. So there are several varieties of the horned lark. But dress isn't everything, and, after all, he is the same bird in habits and manners wherever we find him in the United States. He is streaked brown on the back, and white below, with yellow throat and black and white markings.
The way you may always know aPrairie Horned Lark, of whom I will speak, is by thepretty little tufts of feathers that stand up on his head like horns, and the very long nail on his hind toe.
lark walking on the groundDESERT HORNED LARK
Another way you may know this bird is that he lives on the ground, and never perches in a tree. Sometimes he gets up on a fence to sing, but he likes best to run along the road, or in a field, and he never—never hops. The place to look for him is a field or pasture, or on a country road.
When insects are abroad, he eats the more dainty small ones, young grasshoppers and locusts before they get big and tough, small beetles and larvæ; and baby larks are fed on them. But he doesn't starve when they are gone; he is fond of seeds of weeds and grasses.
The nest of the horned lark is on the ground, and the little mother is very clever in hiding it, and not showing people where it is. Many birds, you know, will stay on the nest till one almost steps on them, and then fly up with a great fuss, thus telling their secret. When the wise little lark sees one coming, she quietly slips off her nest. Then she crouches to the ground, and creeps away. When she thinks she is far enough, she rises to her full height, and begins to eat, or to walk around as if she had nothing on her mind, and there were no such thing as a nestanywhere about. No matter how long one may stay there hoping to find the nest, she will not go back, not even to see if it is safe, so long as any one is near. If all birds were so wily, there would be fewer nests robbed, and we should have more birds.
The little home so carefully guarded is well made. The bird scratches out a little hollow and lines it with grass or thistledown, that is, if she can't get what she likes best. Her choice is for nice soft mullein leaves, which she pulls to pieces. These, you know, are thick and smooth, and must make a warm, dry bed for the little larks.
The brave little mother nests so early that she is often caught in a snowstorm. Nests have been found with the bird on them, when the snow had to be brushed away to get at her, actually sitting under the snow.
When the young larks can run about, and before they can fly, the father takes them in charge. Then the mother sits again, and hatches out another brood.
The horned lark sings on the wing, as does the skylark of Europe that we've heard so much about. It is supposed that he cannot equal that famous bird, but so few have heard him, it is hardly safe to say so. I once heard a hornedlark sing. He ran across the road in front of the carriage, flew to a fence, and gave an exquisite little song. If it had come down to us while the singer was soaring about over our heads, I think few bird songs could have excelled it.
The feather tufts which are called horns stand up when the bird is excited. Usually they lie back nearly flat on the head.
In the picture you can see one of these birds in his usual attitude, walking.
FOOTNOTE:[18]SeeAppendix, 17.
[18]SeeAppendix, 17.
[18]SeeAppendix, 17.
THE FLYCATCHING FAMILY
(Tyrannidæ)[19]
Larksmay be scarce, but we have plenty of flycatchers, and they all look very much alike. They are mostly in dull colors, and they have a way of raising the head feathers which gives them a little crest. Then they have rather thick necks, and they sit up very straight on the perch.
They catch living flies, as you see by the name, and they have their own way of doing it. No flycatcher ever scrambles around like a fussy little warbler, snatching a fly here and there. Far from it! It is a dignified family, and none of them ever seems to be in a hurry.
The true flycatcher way to get a dinner is to sit still and wait. The very babies in the nest are patient little fellows. They never make half the row over their dinner that young robins do. They could give lessons in table manners to some young folks I have seen. And waiting seems tobe a good way, for nobody is better fed than a flycatcher.
kingbird on an oak branchKINGBIRD
On his perch the waiting bird sits perfectly still, but keeps a sharp lookout all around him. When a fly or other insect comes near that he thinks he will like, he dashes out and catches it as it flies. Then he goes back to his perch and waits for another.
Some of the family have the habit of singing as they wait. The wood pewee drawls out his sweet "pee-u-ee," the phœbe sings his sharp "phœ-be" by the hour, and the least flycatcher snaps out his "chebec" till we are tired of hearing him.
Flycatchers are classed among birds who do not sing, but several of them do sing,—not loud, like a robin, but low, quiet songs to the mate or the nestlings.
One of the best known of the flycatchers all over the country is theKingbird. He is a little smaller than a robin, and all in brownish black, with white breast. He has also white tips to his tail feathers, which look very fine when he spreads it out wide in flying.
Among the head feathers of the kingbird is a small spot of orange color. This is called in the books a "concealed patch" because it is seldom seen, it is so hidden by the dark feathers.
This bird does much good by eating many insects. It is often said that he eats bees. But a curious thing has been found out about this habit. It seems he has a choice in bees. He is fond of the drones which make no honey, and so are not useful in a hive. He will hunt drones all day, but he is shy of a honey bee. Do you know why? The bird has not told us, but we can guess that it is because the honey bee is armed with a sting, and can make it very uncomfortable for any bird who catches her.
There is another reason too why the bird may prefer the drone. The honey bee usually flies low, where the flowers are, while the drone isn't after flowers and flies higher in the air. The kingbird sits higher than the honey bee flies, and the drones are the ones that come near him.
Another insect that the kingbird is fond of is the robber fly, which destroys hundreds of honey bees. That should make every bee-keeper his friend.
These things have been found out in the way I told you, by shooting the birds to see what they had been eating.
Mr. Bryant, who knows birds well, tells of a bee-keeper in California who saw a great many kingbirds among his bees. Of course he thought they were eating them, and he killed one hundredof them. On looking into their stomachs to see if they had eaten honey bees, he found them filled with drones. They had been working for him all the time, for every bee-keeper likes to have drones killed.
It has been said that the kingbird is annoying to other birds, and he is called a tyrant. I wanted to know if this was true. I did not go to books to find out, for many people—as I have told you—do not study for themselves, but repeat what some one else has said. The way I took to find out was to notice the ways of every kingbird I could see. For many years I have watched them hours at a time, for weeks together. I spend every summer among the birds, and almost everywhere I go I find kingbirds.
In this way I have found out that the kingbird is one of the most peaceable of birds. He drives strangers away from the tree where his nest is, and so does every other bird. The crow he seems to consider his enemy, and often flies after him, but excepting that, I have never seen a kingbird disturb any bird who was minding his own business. He is not half so much of a tyrant as the robin or the hummingbird.
The kingbird is quiet and devoted to his family. He seems never to tire of catching insects. While young ones are in the nest, he mayusually be seen from morning till night, sitting very straight upon a low perch, looking for flies of many kinds.
Let me tell you a little story of a kingbird which I can assure you is true, for a gentleman whose word may be relied upon saw it near enough to be perfectly sure of the facts.
A big bird, he did not notice what kind, was flying off with a nestling robin in his claws. All at once a kingbird flew at him so fiercely that he had to drop the young one to defend himself. The youngster could not fly, and of course began to fall. When the kingbird saw that, he left the thief and flew under the little bird. He held it up on his back, and flew carefully to the ground, where it slipped off safely.
When a kingbird has been tamed and kept in a house, he has been found to be a very knowing fellow. One that I heard of saw that the people were friendly, and he lost all fear of them. His greatest pleasure seemed to be to keep warm. He would cuddle up to a lighted lamp, and dearly liked to crawl under the bedclothes. This pet was quiet and dignified, never a chatterbox. The only sounds he made were a few low notes like thanks, when he was fed.
The nest of the kingbird is usually placed in a low tree like the apple-tree. It is made of anythingthat comes handy. I have seen one of white wool where sheep were kept, and one of gray moss on the seashore where it is found in plenty.
The Western kingbird differs in color from the Eastern. He is more gray, with under parts bright yellow. He is said to be more social and more noisy than the sober Eastern bird. But in other respects they are much alike.
This bird has been called quarrelsome, but persons who look closely at birds have said that what careless observers have called quarrels are really play. For the Western kingbird, theArkansas Kingbirdof the books, is a rather jolly fellow, says Major Bendire.
All flycatchers are useful and should be carefully protected, says the same well-informed writer.
TheWood Peweeis another common flycatcher. He is not generally seen about houses like the phœbe, who calls from the peak of the barn. He may be found in the orchard or the edge of the woods. There he will stand on a fence or low branch and sing or call by the hour, every few minutes flying out to catch a passing insect.
This bird is in dark colors, with whitish breast and two white wing-bars. His common call is aplaintive, long-drawn-out "pee-u-ee" and sometimes "pee-ay," but he can sing a droll little song. One lady who watched a wood pewee build her nest heard her sing to herself as she worked what sounded like "O-wee-wee-wee."
The nest made by this little mother is very pretty. It is most often on a dead limb where a branch starts out, making a broad foundation. For this reason the bird is called in the South, the dead-limb bird. The nests are not all alike. I have seen many closely covered with lichen, and some made of gray moss so thin that the eggs could be seen through it. Whatever it is made of, it is low and flat like a saucer, and so much like the branch it is on that it is not easy to see.
Like other bird mothers, the wood pewee is devoted to her nestlings. She will shield them from the rain by sitting close on the nest and making an umbrella of herself. And when the sun comes down very hot on them, she has been seen to perch on the edge of the nest and spread her wings to act as a shade for them. It is pretty to see this bird with her little family when they have left the nest and are being taught to take care of themselves. She makes many sweet little noises which sound like talk, or a sort of whispering.
TheWestern Wood Peweelooks like his Eastern brother, but he is a very different bird. His dress is about the same, and he catches his flies in pewee fashion, but his voice is not in the least like that we hear on the Atlantic side of the country.
The Eastern wood pewee has a low, sweet voice, of which one cannot get tired. But the bird of the West has loud, harsh notes, so dismal in tone that they are painful to listen to. His song is almost the only really unpleasant bird song I know.
The nest of this bird is a rather deep cup saddled on to a large limb. When it is in a cottonwood grove, it is covered with the sticky white cotton from the trees. It is very pretty when fresh, but it soon gets soiled, and then it is not nice to look at or to handle.
FOOTNOTE:[19]SeeAppendix, 18.
[19]SeeAppendix, 18.
[19]SeeAppendix, 18.
THE HUMMING FAMILY
(Trochilidæ)[20]
Thisis an American family, and no country in the world can show a more beautiful one. There are more than four hundred species, and some of them hardly bigger than a bee. All of these birds have brilliant colors that are called metallic. That is, they glitter like metal, and they show different colors when they are turned different ways.
All hummingbirds fly very swiftly. You know how they go,—not straight like most birds, but darting one way and another so quickly they can hardly be seen. As they fly, their wings move so fast they look almost like little clouds, and we hear the low noise we call humming.
Hummingbirds eat nothing but tiny insects, and the honey of flowers, which they suck up through their long bill. They take their food without alighting, for they can hold themselvesstill before a flower, with the wonderful wings, as long as they choose.
The bill of a hummingbird is much longer than his head. It is something like a pair of tubes through which he can draw up the sweet juices he likes. The tongue is long too, and it can be pushed out far beyond the end of the bill. It looks like a stiff white thread.
We have in the Eastern States but one species, the ruby-throat, but there are several in California.
No bird is more charming than our commonRuby-throated Hummingbird. He is most often seen flitting about among the flowers. But now and then one may catch him sitting demurely on a dead twig, dressing his tiny feathers.
This bird is all in green, with a brilliant ruby-colored throat, which looks like a gem as he darts about. His mate is in green also, but her throat is white.
You would not think this pretty midget could be a fighter, but he is. When a hummingbird finds a vine full of sweet blossoms, or a bed of bright nasturtiums, or any good place to feed in, he claims the whole of it for himself. He tries to drive away every other hummingbird who comesnear it. Sometimes two of them will carry on a quarrel over a honeysuckle vine for days.
The hummingbird is the most pugnacious bird in America. If he were as big as a crow, he would be a terror to man and beast, for he is afraid of nothing. This spirited mite of a bird will even attack an eagle, who is big enough to eat him at a mouthful. He beats him too, for he comes down on top of his head, where the big, clumsy fellow cannot get at him. There he pecks and pulls out feathers till the eagle is glad to get out of his clutches.
A hummingbird's nest is one of the prettiest things in the world. It is not much bigger than a walnut, and is made of soft plant down, usually of a yellowish gray color.
Perhaps you don't see how plant down can be made to keep in shape, without twigs or grasses to hold it. If you could see the bird make it, you would understand at once. She brings her stuff in small mouthfuls, and works it into a solid mass by strong efforts with beak and feet. She pokes and prods each tiny bunch as she brings it, till she makes it all hold together. It is a sort of felt.
Then the little worker covers the outside with bits of lichen picked off the trees, and held on, it is said, by cobwebs. This makes the nest lookexactly like the branch it is on. So it is very hard to see.
It takes a hummingbird several days of hard work to make a nest, because she can bring only a little at a time. She does it alone too; her mate has not been seen to help her at all.
I think the male ruby-throat does not help in the nest-building because the little mother will not let him. She knows just how the cradle is to be made, and she doesn't want him to bother her. She likes to have her nest to herself just as she likes to have her honeysuckle to herself. I don't say positively that is the reason, you know; I only guess it is.
After the nest is made, and two eggs about as big as small beans are laid, the hummingbird begins to sit. When the nestlings come out of the egg, they are about the size of honey bees, with bills no larger than the head of a common pin. Twenty-one days they stay in the nest and are fed by their hard-working little mother.
When the twins get their feathers, and their bills are growing longer and longer, they sit up across the top of the nest, side by side. Then they are very pretty, and not at all afraid of people. They will let one gently stroke their backs. They will even answer in a soft murmur one who talks to them.
Hummingbirds are never so afraid of people as other birds. They are easily tamed. But they should never be caged, for they will not live long in a house. They need food that we cannot give them.
A man had a hummingbird whom he kept alive a long time by letting him go free when he seemed to need change of food. He would fly off, but always came back. After the bird got to be very tame, the man brought two young hummingbirds and put them in the cage with him. He did not notice them much till they began to droop. Then the man opened the door to let them out.
At once the elder bird took the little ones in charge, and coaxed them to fly out with him. He led them to a place where he had found the tiny spiders these birds like, and showed them how to get what they wanted. They all ate their fill and then came back to the house, where they were well contented to be.
The way the mother hummingbird feeds her babies is curious. When she comes with food, she alights on the edge of the nest, and pulls a little one up so that she can get at it. Then she runs her long, slim bill down its throat, and pokes the food in with little jerks. It looks as if it would kill the youngster, but he seems tolike it. Anyway, he grows very fast, and—as I said—in three weeks he is beautifully feathered, with a bill as long as his mother's, and ready to fly.
A lady who had two young hummingbirds told me that they slept so soundly they were like dead birds. One could take them up and carry them about, and they would not wake. In cold weather she often wrapped one up in a piece of flannel and laid him in a soft, warm place, and he never stirred till morning.
The way she got this pair of birds was interesting. She was walking in the woods and broke a dead branch from a tree, to use for something. On turning it over she saw a nest, and strange to say two little birds in it. She had been holding it upside down, but they had held on so tightly that they did not fall out.
The lady did not know what to do. She did not want baby hummingbirds, but she couldn't put the branch back, and she was afraid their mother would not find them if she left them. So she took them home. She had no trouble to feed them, and they lived with her six weeks, and died by accident at last.
It is thought that the male ruby-throat does not come to the nest at all, but he must have some way of knowing how things are going on.At Mrs. Wright's summer home a mother hummingbird was killed in a hailstorm, while young were in the nest. At once the father, or at least a male bird, came and fed and took care of the nestlings till they flew.
In California one of the most common of this family isAnna's Hummingbird. He is green, with a throat and crown of changeable colors, lilac and red.
The nest of this bird is usually, like the ruby-throat's, of plant down covered with lichens. But some have been found made of the blossoms of the eucalyptus, or gum-tree. This bird is as easily tamed as the ruby-throat, and seems to act a good deal like him.
Mrs. Grinnell found a nest in her yard in California. The mother allowed herself to be photographed in many positions. The young ones were never afraid, and did not mind the camera in the least. Hummingbirds never seem to have any fear of people.
FOOTNOTE:[20]SeeAppendix, 19.
[20]SeeAppendix, 19.
[20]SeeAppendix, 19.
THE SWIFT FAMILY
(Micropodidæ)[21]
Swiftsare curious birds, with strange habits. The one we know by sight in the East is the chimney swift. Most like him in the West is Vaux's swift. His ways are like the common chimney swift's, and his looks nearly the same.
TheChimney Swiftis often called the chimney swallow, but it is very easy to tell one from a swallow. One way is, that when a swift is flying about over our heads, he looks as if he had no tail. The tail is very short, not half so long as the wing. He looks more like a bat than a bird.
Then the swift flies in a different way. A swallow soars a good deal, that is, moves without beating the wings, a sort of gliding through the air. But a swift beats the wings much more frequently. A swallow will often alight on a telegraph-wireor a roof. A swift is said never to alight except to sleep.
This bird is so much at home on wing that he even gets the twigs to make the nest while flying. These twigs are the smallest ones on the ends of dead branches, and are easily snapped off. The bird flies at them, snatches one in beak or feet, breaks it off, and goes right on, without stopping.
When he gets his twig, he carries it to a dark, sooty chimney. A queer place for a home, surely. They used to choose a hollow tree or a cave to live in, and that seems much nicer. But chimneys are now more plentiful than hollow trees. And besides, they are nearer the bird's food. So chimney homes are now the fashion in the swift family.
To make a swift nest, the twigs are glued to the chimney in the shape of a little bracket. The glue is the saliva of the bird, which is gummy, and gets hard as it dries, and looks like isinglass.
The mouth of a chimney swift is very odd. You have heard of "stretching a mouth from ear to ear." That's just what the swift does every time he opens his. It needs to be big, for he gathers up his food in it. While he is flying around in the air, he is busy catching tiny flying creatures, such as flies and beetles, and thus keeping the air clear for us.
The tail of this bird is another queer thing. It has no soft feathery tips like most birds' tails. It ends in sharp spines, like needles. These are most useful to brace him against the rough chimney where he sleeps. These spines are really the stiff shafts or stems of the feathers, sticking out beyond the plumey part.
The chimney swift hangs himself up to sleep. He fastens his sharp claws into the rough bricks, and props himself firmly with his spiny tail. Even when the young swift is but two weeks old, he crawls out of the nest and hangs himself up under it. He seems to like that for a change from forever lying in a narrow bracket.
Chimney swifts are social birds. They can't bear to be alone. They are almost always seen flying about in small parties, and calling to each other as they go, a strange, chattering cry. They are of a sooty color suitable to their sooty home, and the pair are alike. Vaux's swift is a little smaller and paler than the common chimney swift.
The young swift is longer in his nursery than any bird of his size in the United States. He is four weeks old before he ventures out of his grimy home, though before that he will come up to the door to be fed.
A late writer in a newspaper tells a little storyshowing the affection of a chimney swift for her little one. The writer had watched all summer a party of swifts who lived in one of his chimneys. A month or more after he supposed that all had flown away to the South beyond our southern boundary, where they spend the winter, he heard the twittering of one in the chimney. He took out the fireboard and found there a young bird. He was full grown and able to fly, but he was fastened by a horsehair to the nest. This had been pulled off by his weight, and lay on the hearth, holding him prisoner.
The little fellow seemed to know he was to be helped, for he lay still while the man looked to see what was the matter. His mother soon came into the chimney with food. She took her place beside the man and waited, while he cut the strong hair and set the nestling free.
Then the old bird went to work to teach him to fly. It was an hour or more before he learned to use his wings. As soon as he did, the two started off on their lonely journey to the far South, to join their friends who had been gone so long. How I wish we could know that they reached them.
Insects were about gone when this happened, and this swift mother would have died if she had stayed, but she would not leave her little one to starve.
It is a beautiful thing to see a large flock of swifts go to bed. If they all rushed in pell-mell, they might hurt one another. They begin by flying around high above the chimney in great circles. As they go around they sink lower, and the circles get smaller till it looks like an immense whirling funnel. When the birds forming the lower part of the funnel reach the top of the chimney, they plunge in. So in a short time the whole flock is in and no one hurt.