[Ill.u.s.tration: YELLOW-THROATED VIREO AND NEST]
Mr. Torrey found a vireo on her nest, and by gentle ways got her to let him stroke her. Next day he took some rose leaves with aphides on them, and holding one of the insects on his finger, he offered it to the bird on the nest. She took it, and then another and another, till finally she began to be very eager for them, and he could hardly feed her fast enough. Then he took a teaspoon full of water up to her, and she drank.
Another gentleman--Mr. Hoffmann--did still more. He coaxed a YELLOW-THROATED VIREO till she took food out of his lips. Black ants and cankerworms were the things he fed her. She preferred the ants, and would scold him a little at first when he offered the worms, though she took them at last. This bird was so tame she would let a man lift her off her nest and put her on his shoulder while he looked at the eggs.
She would stay there till he put her back.
The yellow-throat, besides making a pretty hanging basket, covers the outside with lichens of different colors, green, dark and light, yellow, and almost black. It is said that these pretty things are put on by the male while his mate is sitting.
A pair was once watched at their building. The female was lining and shaping the inside, and her mate working silky-looking strips from plants into the framework, and then covering the whole with lichens. He was so happy, he sang as he worked.
The one of this family most widely spread over the country, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, is the WARBLING VIREO. His song is the most agreeable of the vireo songs, being truly a warble of six or eight notes, of which one does not get tired. The dress of the Western warbling vireo is a little paler, but the habits and manners are about the same as those of his Eastern brother.
Vireos were once common in the shade-trees of our city streets, and are still in some places where English sparrows have not taken everything, and boys are not allowed to throw stones or shoot. I know one city in Ma.s.sachusetts where trees are very lovely and musical with yellow-throats.
We can still have these and other birds in our yards--we who do not live in the middle of a big city--by protecting them from cats and bad boys, and furnishing good places to nest. Mr. Lloyd Morgan tells of a garden near his own where there were fifty-three nests, besides swallows". The owner planted thick bushes, and some cone-bearing trees. He put bird-boxes and old flower-pots and other things suitable to build in, in convenient places in the trees. The birds appreciated all this and came and stayed with him.
FOOTNOTE:
[10] See Appendix, 9.
XII
THE SHRIKE FAMILY
(_Laniidae_)[11]
A SHRIKE is a pretty gray bird with white and black tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. He is nearly as large as a robin, and has a bill slightly hooked on the end.
This is to help catch living prey, for he eats mice and other little mammals, besides gra.s.shoppers, crickets, and sometimes small birds.
This family have a curious habit of sticking dead gra.s.shoppers, or mice, or other food, on a thorn, to keep till they are wanted. Because of this habit they have been called butcher-birds.
The LOGGERHEAD SHRIKE, who is perhaps the most widely known, builds a bulky nest in a tree, and is very attentive to his mate while she is sitting. She looks exactly like him.
He is a very quiet bird, and three or four or more of them may often be seen in a little party together, flying and hopping about in a tree, or on the ground, in the most amiable way. This shrike is a sweet singer, too. The song is not loud, but very pleasing.
[Ill.u.s.tration: LOGGERHEAD SHRIKE]
A great deal that is not true has been said about this bird. Some people seem to think he is in the habit of tormenting and killing little birds for fun, and he is called many hard names. But he does not deserve them.
His way of keeping his food has been spoken of as if it were a crime. He lives generally on crickets, gra.s.shoppers, meadow mice, and small snakes, besides cut-worms, cankerworms, and many others. He is extremely useful to farmers and cultivators on that account.
Sometimes, when other food is scarce, he eats small birds, but they are by no means his usual food. I have watched a family of shrikes several times, and always looked very sharply to see if they touched birds. I have seen them eat many sorts of insects and grubs, and meadow mice, but never saw one disturb a bird. Other people who have watched them closely have told that their experience was the same. And writers about birds who study for themselves, and do not merely repeat what others have said, generally agree that the bird kills his prey before he impales it.
More than that, the number of birds he kills is very small compared to the hosts of troublesome insects and small animals he eats.
The conclusion of the Agricultural Department as to the food of shrikes all over the country is that it consists mainly of gra.s.shoppers, and that the good they do is much greater than the harm, and therefore they should be protected.
Mr. Keyser once saw a shrike catch a meadow mouse, and carry it up into a tree. First he killed it, and then tried to wedge it into a crotch so that he could eat it. But finally he found the sharp end of a broken snag, on which he fastened it.
There is no doubt that the shrike impales his prey so that he can pull it to pieces to eat, for his feet are too small to hold it. I have seen a shrike throw a dead meadow mouse over a fence wire that had sagged to the ground, in order to get bits off to eat.
A lady in New Hampshire who had a captive shrike tells in "Bird-Lore"
that he was unable to eat a piece of meat until he could find a place to fasten it. He hopped around the room, looking for something, till she guessed what he wanted. Then she brought a kitchen fork with two tines.
The moment he saw it he ran to her, hopped up on her hand, jerked his meat over the tines, and at once began to eat.
An interesting little action of one of these birds was seen by a gentleman traveling in Florida last winter. Wishing to have one of the birds to add to a collection, he shot one (I"m sorry to say). The bird was not killed, but wounded so that he could not fly. As the man came near to pick it up, the poor fellow gave a cry of distress, and fluttered away on his broken wing with great difficulty.
His call for help was heard. Another shrike at once flew down from a tree, and went to his aid. He flew close around him and under him, in some way holding him up as he was about to fall. He helped him so well that the two began to rise in the air, and before the eyes of the surprised hunter, at last got safely into the top of a tall tree, where he left them.
If you ever happen to find a shrike nesting, I hope you will watch the birds for yourself, and see how they act, and not take the word of any one about them. Then you will really know them. The picture shows a shrike as I have often seen one, sitting on the top twig of the tree that holds his nest, watching to see that no harm comes to it.
FOOTNOTE:
[11] See Appendix, 10.
XIII
THE WAXWING FAMILY
(_Ampelidae_)[12]
THE waxwings are a family of beautiful birds, with elegant pointed crests, and wonderfully silky plumage. Excepting one species they are in soft grayish or reddish brown colors, with yellow tips to their tails and black lines on the head that look like spectacles, and give them a wise appearance.
Best known is the CEDAR WAXWING, or CEDAR-BIRD. He is a citizen at large, you may say, for he is known from sea to sea, and from Canada to Mexico. He nests all over the northern parts, and winters in the southern parts.
This bird gets his name of cedar-bird from the fact that he is fond of cedar berries. He is often called cherry-bird also, because he likes cherries. His name waxwing comes from the little tips like red sealing-wax which are on some of his wing feathers. In Maine he is called the bonnet-bird because of his crest, and in some places he is called silk-tail from his silky plumage. You see he has plenty of names.
Among the strange things about him is that he has almost no voice. The loudest sound he is known to make is a sort of whistle, so low it is like a whisper.
The cedar-bird builds a very neat nest in a tree, and feeds his mate while she is sitting, as well as helps her feed the little folk. The young cedar-bird is a winsome youngster, gentle in his ways, and pretty in his soft gray suit and spotted breast.
One day last summer, a man walking down a quiet road was surprised by a young bird alighting on his shoulder. He walked on home with it, and when he took it off found it was a baby cedar-bird. No doubt he had tried to fly too far and got tired.
The family kept the bird a day or two, and then brought him to me. He was not afraid of anybody, and was perfectly happy so long as some one would keep him warm between two hands.
It was hard to get him to eat, and there were plenty of his grown-up relatives about, probably his own family among them. So I thought it would be safe to put him out. I took him to the woods where I had seen a little family of young cedar-birds, and placed him on a low tree. He brightened up at once, and began to call, and flew to another tree.
Fearing that my being there might prevent his mother coming to him, I left him. When I went out again I could not find him, so I hope he was safe with his friends.
I was more certain of it, because I know that these birds are kind to all birds in distress. A lady was once watching a nest of robins when the parents disappeared, no doubt killed. She was much troubled to know how she should get at the high nest to feed the young ones who were calling for their dinner, when she saw a cedar-bird go to them and feed them.