"It must be hard to tell them when they lose their yellow feathers,"
said Nat finally.
"No; Goldfinches keep up a habit by which you can always tell them, old or young, male or female, in summer or winter. Can you guess what it is?"
"I know! Oh, I know!" cried Rap. "They always fly with a dip and a jerk."
The American Goldfinch
Length about five inches.
Male in summer: bright clear yellow, with a black cap, and the wings and tail black with some white on both.
Female at all times, and male in winter: light flaxen brown, the wings and tail as before, but less distinctly marked with white, and no black cap.
A Citizen of temperate North America, and a good neighbor.
Belongs to the guild of Weed Warriors, and is very useful.
THE SNOWFLAKE
(THE AUTUMN LEAF)
"It is a very warm day to talk about snowstorms and winter birds, but several of these birds belong to the Finch family," said the Doctor, a few mornings later, as the children went through the old pasture down to the river woods in search of a cool quiet place to spend the morning.
The sun was hot, and most of the birds were hiding in the shade trees.
"But as the Snowflake will walk next to the Goldfinch in the procession of Bird Families I am going to show you after a while, we must have him now." "I think a cool bird will be very nice for a warm day," said Dodo. "Something like soda water and ice cream. That makes me think--Mammy Bun was cracking ice this morning, and I wonder what for!"
"I wonder!" said Olive, laughing.
"I know," said Nat, who was a tease; "it must be to bake a cake with!"
[Ill.u.s.tration: Snowflake.]
"Here is a nice place for us," said the Doctor, who had walked on ahead, "where we can see over the fields and into the woods by only turning our heads, and the moss is so dry that we may sit anywhere we please.
"The trees are in full leaf now," he continued, looking up as he leaned comfortably against the trunk of an oak that spread its high root ridges on each side of him like the arms of a chair. "The spring flowers are gone, strawberries are ripe, and there is plenty of food and shelter for birds here. But if we were to travel northward, beyond the United States and up through Canada, we should find that the trees were different; that there were more pines and spruces. Then if we went still further north, even these would begin to grow more scanty and stunted, until the low pines in which the Grosbeak nests would be the only trees seen. Then beyond this parallel of lat.i.tude comes the "tree limit"--"
"Oh, I know what a "parallel of lat.i.tude" is, because I learned it in my geography," said Dodo, who had been pouting since Nat teased her about the cracked ice; "it"s a make-believe line that runs all round the world like the equator. But what is a "tree limit"?"
"Don"t you remember, little girl," answered the Doctor, "what I told you about the timber-line on a mountain--the height beyond which no trees grow, because it gets too cold for them up there? It is just the same if you go northward on flat ground like Orchard Farm; for when you have gone far enough there are no more trees to be seen. In that northern country the winter is so long and cold, and summer is so short, that only scrubby bushes can grow there. Next beyond these we should find merely the rough, curling gra.s.s of the Barren Grounds, which would tell us we were approaching the arctic circle, and already near the place where wise men think it is best to turn homeward; for it is close to the Land of the Polar Bear and the Northern Lights--the region of perpetual snow. But dreary as this would seem to us, nest building is going on there this June day, as well as here.
"Running lightly over uneven hummocks of gra.s.s are plump, roly-poly, black-and-white birds, with soft musical voices and the gentlest possible manners. They may have already brought out one brood in thick, deep gra.s.sy nests, well lined with rabbit fur or Snow Owl feathers, that they know so well how to tuck under a protecting ledge of rock or bunch of gra.s.s. Now and then a male Snowflake will take a little flight and sing as merrily as his cousin the Goldfinch, but he never stays long away from the ground where seeds are to be found.
"The white feathers of these birds are as soft as their friend the snow, of which they seem a part. They have more white about them than any other color, and this snowy plumage marks them distinctly from all their Sparrow cousins. After the moult, when a warm brown hue veils the white feathers, and the short northern summer has ended, the birds flock together for their travels. When they will visit us no one can say; they come and go, as if driven by the wind.
"A soft clinging December snowstorm begins, and suddenly you will wonder at a cloud of brown, snow-edged leaves that settle on a bare spot in the road, then whirl up and, clearing the high fence, drop into the shelter of the barnyard.
""How very strange," you will say; "these leaves act as if they were bewitched." You look again, and rub your eyes; for these same whirling winter leaves are now walking about the yard, picking up gra.s.s-seed and grain under the very nose of the cross old rooster himself! Then you discover that they are not leaves at all, but plump little birds who, if they could speak, would say how very much obliged they are for the food.
"When the snow melts they fly away. By the time they have got home again, weather and travel have worn the brown edges of their feathers away, so that the black parts show; and thus, without a second moulting, they are black-and-white birds again.
"When you search for them look in the air, or on the shed-top, or about the haystack, or on the ground; for they seldom perch in trees."
"Why is that?" asked Rap. "I should think it would be warmer for them in the thick evergreens."
"They nest on the ground, and as they also gather their food there, are unused to large trees."
"Why don"t they nest in trees up North?" asked Nat.
"For the same reason," laughed Olive, "that Simple Simon didn"t catch a whale in the water pail! There are no trees where the Snowflake nests!"
The Snowflake
Length seven inches.
In summer snow-white, with black on the back, wings, and tail.
In winter wears a warm brown cloak, with black stripes, fastened with a brown collar, and a brown and white vest.
A Citizen of the North, travelling southward in snowstorms as far sometimes as Georgia.
A member of the guild of Weed Warriors, eating seeds at all seasons.
THE VESPER SPARROW
(THE GRa.s.s FINCH)
"Please, uncle, before you tell us about this Sparrow, will you look at a sort of a striped, dull-brown bird that has been fidgeting over there under the bushes ever since we have been here?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: Vesper Sparrow.]
"I have been watching him too," said Rap; "a minute ago, when he flew over the stone fence, I saw he had white feathers outside on his tail--now he is back again."
"How very kind that bird is to come when he is wanted, and save my time--it is the Vesper Sparrow himself. I suspect that we are nearer to his nest than he cares to have us, he is so uneasy."
"Where would the nest most likely be?" asked Nat; "in a tree or a bush?"
"Most Sparrow nests are near the ground," said Rap.
"A little lower yet, Rap; the Vesper Sparrow sinks his deep nest either in thick gra.s.s or in the ground itself; but though it is thus supported on all sides it is as nicely woven as if it were a tree nest."
"It isn"t a very pretty bird," said Dodo. "Does it sing well? Why is it called the Vesper Sparrow--what does Vesper mean, Uncle Roy?"
"Vesper means evening. This plainly clothed little bird has a beautiful voice, and sings in the morning chorus with his brothers; but he is fond of continuing his song late into the twilight, after most others have gone to bed. Then in the stillness his voice sounds sweet and clear, and the words of the song are: "Chewee, chewee, chewee lira, lira, lira lee." That is the way he says his evening prayers: you know that in some of the churches there is a beautiful service called Vespers. Ah, if we only knew bird language!"
"Do you remember," said Olive, "last night when you were going to bed you asked me if it wasn"t a very rare bird that was singing so late down in the garden, and I told you that it was a Sparrow? It was the Vesper Bird, perhaps the very one who is over there in the bushes, wondering if the giant House People will find his nest. You can easily tell him when he flits in front of you by the roadside, because he always shows two white feathers, one on each side of his tail."