OUR WINTER BIRDS.
OUR WINTER BIRDS.
OUR WINTER BIRDS.
Robert A. Campbell.
{Illustrations by H. M. Chase and H. H. Gibson.}
“Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,No winter in thy year.”
“Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,No winter in thy year.”
“Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,No winter in thy year.”
“Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.”
drop-cap
Itis not remarkable that poets and bird-lovers consider the spring of the year preëminently the season in which birds are to be studied and admired. The change from the winter to the spring, from the sombre to the variegated, the harmony that wakes the silent woods, the dreamy south wind that mellows the air,—in truth, all life, awakening, seems to be striving to render nature beautiful andattractive. To say that spring-tide is not the best season of the year for studying birds would be indicative of ignorance; but to say that spring is the only season in which birds may be profitably studied, would show an equal lack of knowledge.
Hanover sign
When the leaves redden and fall, the birds that greeted us so joyously six months before begin to disappear.Silently they depart, dreading the rigor of the winter, seeking a warmer and a sunnier clime. No longer is the dawn betokened by their chorus; yet we are far from being entirely deserted, as there are over fifty species that brave the cold weather with us. These winter birds are generally from the north, spending their summers in Labrador or the Hudson Bay region, and finding a warmer and more congenial resort in the pine and hemlock vales of New England. On the other hand, there is a very respectable minority who make this their permanent home. A sunny day suffices to bring several kinds of them into the village, and then only are theyobserved by the multitude, though a few, more interested and zealous, know where to find them at other times.
Bird in tree
Between January and March I am never unable to find flocks of the pine grosbeak; they are generally found in the college park, but if not there, they will be in Webster glen, or surely on Balch hill. None of the birds that spend the winter with us receive so much notice as these, on account of the frequency with which they visit the village in search of the seeds of frozen fruit, or the buds on evergreen trees. A low mellow whistle apprises the pedestrian of the proximity of the grosbeak, and the bird is quicklydiscovered, probably with from six or eight to thirty companions, that gradually show themselves to the admiring observer. About the size of a robin, the females are distinguished by a soft yellow coloring, which becomes a brilliant scarlet in the male. It is at once noticed that there are about five females to one male, which is natural, when we consider that the male is the hardier bird, and for that reason often remains behind in the northland. It is sometimes called the “Canadian robin” about here. I did not appreciate the fitness ofthe name until last February, when I found a half dozen of them apparently leading three half-frozen and half-starved robins to a place where they might find food. They are of about the same size, and fly in a manner very like the robin, so that a careless observer might very naturally consider them a kind of robin. Last winter they arrived on the 14th of November, and stayed until the 21st of March. It was perhaps a trifle strange, that on the 22d of March, the very day after the last grosbeak was seen, the spring migration began with the arrival of robins and bluebirds.
Though I have never heard the grosbeak sing, yet, at the setting ofthe sun on some of the warmer March days, I have listened to some of their low, liquid warblings that were marvels of sweetness, and proved to my mind their right to be considered among the finest of our singing birds.
Birdhouse
The grosbeak has a cousin smaller than himself and rarer, that is equally interesting, the American red crossbill. During the past two years a large number of these birds have spent the months of January and February in the park, and on account of their accessibility have furnished me many interesting notes. In general coloringthey closely resemble the grosbeak, but they are scarcely two thirds its size. Their crossed bills, which furnish them their common name, are their most noticeable and interesting characteristic. It is a spectacle as pretty as it is curious to see one take the seeds from the cone of a fir tree. The hooked upper mandible serves to catch hold of and tear out the seed, while the lower one is a receptacle for it. With the red crossbill is sometimes seen the white species, which is much the rarer visitant of the two.
But if mention is to be made of any representative winter birds, we must notice the chickadee. A rugged little fellow, undaunted, thoughthe weather be ever so cold, he salutes us almost everywhere, and as he passes busily from tree to tree, seeking his sustenance, he makes his little remarks in a business-like way, occasionally approaching his admirer with a confidential message, which he rattles off and then flits away to join somebon camarade. The chickadees, on account of their excellent temper and character, make many friends, and we frequently find nuthatchers, kinglets, sparrows, and other small birds about with them.
Bird nest
That these birds are forced to be gregarious, in order to protect themselves from hunger and cold, is well illustrated by the fact that the snowbirdsand pine linnets occasionally swoop down upon us in flocks of two to three hundred. If one searches the wooded hills at some distance from the town, rarer species of owls and the like may be found with partridges, occasionally Canada jays, and during especially severe winters straggling Arctic birds. Indeed, one can hardly walk abroad without having his interest well repaid, and rare finds and new discoveries are of sufficient frequency to keep the observer enthusiastic. I think I was first attracted to these cold weather observationsfrom selfish motives, for there was a great charm to me in walking through pathless fields of snow, and feeling, from the absence of human footprints, that no one else was seeing what I saw and enjoying what I enjoyed; and if a few days later I went over the same ground and found no tracks but my own, this pleasure was increased. There is something peculiarly fascinating in an interesting solitude.