"That would be a rash promise," said the Doctor, laughing; "but if you will stay long enough I will promise to teach you something about all the little wild beasts and bugs that live here, the flowers that bloom about us, the earth, moon, and perhaps even a star or two! Who knows? Is it a bargain?" "Oh, _uncle_!" was all they said. But Dodo gave him a kiss on the end of his nose and Nat hugged Olive, who sat next to him.
Just then Mammy Bun brought in a plate of steaming hot flannel cakes, and the Doctor said: "Now let us eat to the health of Birdland and a happy season at Orchard Farm! Olive, my love, please pa.s.s the maple syrup!"
CHAPTER VIII
BEGINNING OF THE BIRD STORIES
When the day came for beginning the bird stories, warm spring showers were drenching the orchard, so that apple blossoms and raindrops fell to the ground together when the children gathered in the wonder room once more. This time there was no fire on the hearth; through the open window floated bits of bird-song and the fragrance of the lilacs--for there were lilac bushes all about Orchard Farm, close to the house, by the gate posts, and in a long hedge that ran down one side of the garden to the orchard itself. These tall bushes of purple and white lilacs were veritable music boxes, for almost every one held a Catbird"s nest.
"What bird do you think Uncle Roy will tell us about first?" said Nat to Rap, as they walked about the room, looking at the birds in the cases, while the Doctor was reading letters which Olive had brought in.
"I wish he would begin with that lovely fat bird, with all the red and green and blue feathers," said Dodo, pointing to a Wood Duck. "I wonder if it sings."
"No, that"s a Duck and they don"t sing," said Rap; "they gabble and squawk and swim in the water, but they can fly as quick as Swallows, for all they look so heavy." "I wish he would begin with this little mite of a thing, that isn"t much bigger than a bee," said Nat, showing Rap a Hummingbird.
"I don"t care what bird he starts with," said Rap, "only I hope he will begin at the very beginning."
"That is a good idea, my boy," said the Doctor, who had finished his letters and was leaving his desk; "only what and where is the beginning?"
The children looked at each other in silence, and Olive said: "That is a very hard question for them to answer. No wonder they looked so puzzled, father."
Then the Doctor laughed and said: "The people who have studied the birds, bone by bone and feather by feather, have grouped these Citizens into orders and families to prevent confusion, so that we may easily tell the relationship between them. These lists sometimes begin with the lowest order, nearest to the crawling, reptile brethren,--the least interesting, far-away birds that have no song and cannot fly well, but swim and dive in the water,--and end with the beautiful singing birds that live in our gardens."
"Couldn"t you begin with the dear singing birds and end with the far-away clumsy diving ones?" asked Rap earnestly; "it"s so much easier learning about things near home."
"You are right, my boy. In learning anything, whether of bird, insect, or flower, begin at home, and let this be the centre from which you work your way onward and outward. Then you will be sure of what you learn; and ever afterward, though you may follow strange birds all over the known world, you will come home again, to find that there are none more charming and lovable than those few whose acquaintance you will make this summer.
"I do not wish you to be confused by long words, so I shall give you their plain English names and divide these birds of our stories into six cla.s.ses. By and by, when you have heard a few facts about them, we will group them into families; and I will tell you so much that, if you use your eyes well, you will be able to name any one of these birds when you see it out in the open air. You must always remember, children, when you see birds flying about, that you will not notice many little markings and bits of color that would be quite plain to you if you held the bird in your hand, or looked at it in a case, as you look at these stuffed ones now. A bird, whose breast is spotted may look striped when seen at a distance.
"When you are in doubt about the name of a bird that you have seen, you can come here and look for it; but very few children can do so. At best they can only look at pictures, and I do not wish you to depend upon the specimens in this room."
"No," said Rap, "because if our bird stories are printed, and other children read them, they may not have an uncle with a "wonder room"; and so they must learn the names without."
"That is another reason why we must have a great many pictures in our book, for these children," said the Doctor. "Now write the names of the six cla.s.ses into which all our birds are to be gathered.
"I. The Birds that Sing.
"II. The Birds that Croak and Call.
"III. The Birds that are Cannibals.
"IV. The Birds that Coo and Scratch.
"V. The Birds that Wade and Paddle.
"VI. The Birds that Swim and Dive."
Squeak, squeak, went three pencils, two going fast and one toiling along as if it was lame and needed sharpening.
"Please, uncle, what birds are cannibals?" asked Dodo, as she finished writing this last word slowly, taking great pains. "I thought cannibals were people that ate each other."
"Well, my dear, so they are; and cannibal birds are those who _sometimes_ eat each other."
"If you please, Doctor, which of the birds that sing will you begin with?" asked Rap. "I wonder if we can guess it."
"You may all try," said the Doctor. "It is a bird that every one loves--the home bird who is so fond of House People that whenever we see one, we know that there is a house not far away."
"Then it must be the Bluebird!" cried Rap.
"You are right," said the Doctor; "and if you will come here by the window you can watch a pair who are flying in and out of the bird house, on top of the woodshed. Do you hear? Bluebirds have a call-note and a sweet warbling song. As I have told you before, all birds have some note or sound that they use to attract attention or call their mates; but it is only those whose voices are so highly developed that they can make really continuous musical sounds, that are called song birds.
"The male is the only real singer in Birdland. Many females have pretty musical notes that they give when about the nest, and some sc.r.a.ps of song; one or two are quite good musicians, but the great chorus comes from the males.
"These have their seasons for singing, and are not in equal voice during the entire year. They sing most persistently from the time they put on their spring coat, until after the nesting season, when they take it off. In early autumn some species sing for a time, and in warm climates there is more or less music all winter; but the great morning and evening chorus belongs to spring and the nesting season. It is as rare to hear the perfect song of a bird in autumn, as it is to see its perfect plumage. The young birds of the season are then swelling their little throats in trying to warble a few notes; and as their feathers are a mixture of those worn by their father and mother, such birds and their songs will both, most likely, confuse you.
"When you find a strange bird, try to see quickly a few of the things most necessary to naming him. I will make a measure of your middle finger for you such as Olive used to wear. Then you must try to answer the following questions:
"How many inches long was he?
"What was his general color?
"Was his breast plain or speckled?
"What was he doing--feeding on the ground or in a tree?
"Did he walk with one foot after the other, or hop with both feet together?
"Did he sing or only call?
"At first you may only remember two or three of these questions, and they will probably be his size, color, and song, if he happens to be singing at the time.
"You may not think that a bird, who is hopping about in the gra.s.s or flitting among the branches of a tree, is doing anything in particular.
But really he may be either collecting material for his nest, or searching for food of some particular kind, in a way which will tell you to what guild of the Bird Brotherhood he belongs.
"Everything in the daily life of a bird is interesting. You will find that every bird has its regular times for bathing, pluming, eating, sleeping, working, and playing, all in its own ways, just as you yourselves have. And everything he does is done cheerfully and promptly.
"I know that you think this a very long sermon, and that you would rather see a bird than be told how to see it. Only one word more. I am going to give you, as we go along, a few facts about the color and size of each bird, that you may write in your books; so that if you forget whether this bird or that one was striped or spotted you can look at your "bird table" (not multiplication table) and see which it was. Now we will begin with our dear Bluebird."
CHAPTER IX