Chapter IV: Child Life in Literature (1)

A Fourth Reader In preparation

The central idea of these books is to _hold the child's interest_ by giving him reading matter (profusely illustrated) that he _can understand and enjoy_. The lessons, therefore, relate exclusively to _child life_.

The First and Second Readers have _easier reading-matter_ and _more of it_ than do most of the other readers now available for first and second year. They have been graded with the utmost care.

These books, beginning with the Second Reader, have been planned as an _introduction to literature_. The subject-matter, therefore, is confined to material of _recognized literary value_.

The aim of the publishers has been to produce _an artistic set of Readers_ that shall be mechanically as nearly perfect as possible.

As a unique feature in binding, they would call attention to the _covers, which are water-proof_, and can be cleansed, when soiled by constant handling, without injury to the book.

Recent Publications on Nature Study

=Bailey's Lessons With Plants.= $1.10 _net_
Suggestions for Seeing and Interpreting some
of the Common Forms of Vegetation.

=Bailey's First Lessons with Plants.= 40 cts. _net_
"Extremely original and unusually practical."

=Harding's The Liquefaction of Gases. Its Rise
and Development.= $1.50
Complete and scientific, in a popular style.

=Ingersoll's Wild Neighbors.= $1.50
"Instructive as well as delightful."--_Popular
Science Monthly._

=Jackman's Nature Study for Grammar Grades.= $1 _net_
Proposes a few of the problems within the
comprehension of grammar school pupils, which
arise in a thoughtful study of nature, with
suggestions for their solution.

=Lange's Hand-Book of Nature Study.= $1 _net_
"The style of the book is fresh and inspiring."

=Lange's Our Native Birds. How to Protect Them
and Attract Them to Our Homes. _Just ready._=

=Murché's Science Readers.=
Vol. I. 25 cents.
Vol. II. 25 cents.
Vol. III. 40 cents.
Vol. IV. 40 cents _net_.
Vol. V. 50 cents _net_.
Vol. VI. 50 cents _net_.

=Weed's Life Histories of American Insects.= $1.50
"An unusually attractive book."--_Dial._

=Wilson's Nature Study in Elementary Schools.=
First Nature Reader 35 cents
Second Nature Reader 35 cents
Teacher's Manual 90 cents

See, also, the new book by Mrs. Wright, described on another page

PUBLISHED BY

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, New York

* * * * *

VOL. 1 20c. a Copy
No. 6 DECEMBER, 1899 $1 a Year

=Bird-Lore=

Edited by

FRANK M. CHAPMAN

The Macmillan Company

ENGLEWOOD, N. J.

NEW YORK LONDON

_R. Weber_

COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY FRANK M. CHAPMAN

=Bird-Lore=

December, 1899

CONTENTS

PAGE
Frontispiece--Golden Eagle. Photographed from life by _H. W. Nash_.
A Search for the Reedy Island Crow Roost. _Witmer Stone_ 177
Illustrated by _W. Gordon Smith_.
Winter Bird Notes from Southern New Hampshire. _William Everett Cram_ 180
Illustrated by the author.
How the Central Park Chickadees Were Tamed. _A. A Crolius_ 185
The Surprising Contents of a Birch Stub. _Frank M. Chapman_ 187
Illustrated by the author.
Richardson's Owl. Illustrated by the author. _P. R. Peabody_ 190

FOR TEACHERS AND STUDENTS
An 'Advisory Council'. 192
"Humanizing" the Birds. _Caroline G. Soule_ 193
'On the Ethics of Caging Birds.' _Olive Thorne Miller_ 194

FOR YOUNG OBSERVERS
The Birds' Christmas Tree. Illustrated. 195
The Little Brown Creeper. Verse. Illustrated. 196

NOTES FROM FIELD AND STUDY 197
An Interesting Phoebe's Nest, illustrated, _Ellen E. Webster_;
A Singing Blue Jay, _Frank E. Horack_; A Useful Nest-Holder,
illustrated; To Hunt Southern Birds; Seventeenth Congress of the
American Ornithologists' Union.

BOOK NEWS AND REVIEWS 199
Newton's 'Dictionary;' Mrs Wright's 'Wabeno;' Cory's 'Birds of
Eastern North America;' Book News.

EDITORIAL 201

BIRD-LORE FOR 1900 202

AUDUBON DEPARTMENT
Editorial: Reports from Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin
Societies; The Passing of the Tern, illustrated.

×*× _Bird-Lore is published on the first of the month, at Englewood,
New Jersey, where all notices of change of address, manuscripts intended
for publication, books, etc., for review, and exchanges should be sent._

IMPORTANT NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS

All subscriptions beginning with the first (February) number of Bird-Lore expire with this issue. A blank is enclosed for the purpose of renewal, which it is requested be made at our Englewood, N. J., office, ten cents for exchange charges being added to checks on other than New York City banks. In this connection we would call attention to the editorial and announcements on pages 201 and 202 of this number.

PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENT

Bird-Lore for February, 1900, beginning Volume II, will contain the details of the students' 'Advisory Council,' and, among other interesting contributions, an important and fully illustrated paper on 'The Tongues of Birds,' by F. A. Lucas, Curator of Comparative Anatomy in the U. S. National Museum; 'A Method of Recording Observations,' by Professor Pinchot, of Trinity College; 'Egret Farming,' by F. M. Chapman; and there will be some remarkable bird photographs.

Photographed from life by H. W. Nash, Pueblo, Colorado]

=Bird-Lore=

A BI-MONTHLY MAGAZINE

DEVOTED TO THE STUDY AND PROTECTION OF BIRDS

Official Organ of the Audubon Societies

=======================================
Vol. 1 December, 1899 No. 6
=======================================

A Search for the Reedy Island Crow Roost

BY WITMER STONE

Curator of Birds, Academy of Natural Sciences, Philadelphia.

Photographed from life by W. Gordon Smith]

In the Delaware river, just where it begins to widen out into the bay, and midway between the shores of Delaware and New Jersey, lie two long, low islands, known as 'The Pea-patch' and 'Reedy Island.'

Early in the century the former of these was selected by the government as the site of Fort Delaware, and its importance advanced proportionately in the popular mind. Later on, the lower island, which already boasted of a light-house, became further dignified by the establishment of a quarantine station on its banks.

Although of little importance before the government claimed them, these islands were by no means uninhabited, but were, in fact, well-known as a winter resort. The early inhabitants, though much less imposing than the soldiers and health officers who have superseded them, did not fail to attract attention--even newspaper notoriety; not from their individualities, but from their countless numbers. In fact they were nothing more than ordinary, despised black Crows, but Crows in such countless numbers that they could not fail to be noticed.

Every evening they came at dusk by thousands and tens of thousands, winging their way in long lines from all points of the compass, and settling down on the reed-covered islands in a solid black phalanx. This winter roosting habit of the Crows is well-known, and many roosts have been located, but the habit seems still to lack a satisfactory explanation. Why should these birds fly back and forth every day over miles and miles of country to roost in some definite spot which, so far as we can judge, is no better suited for roosting purposes than hundreds of other places which they pass by? And why should they gather together every night in such numbers as to attract general attention and invite slaughter by thoughtless gunners, when, by roosting in small numbers wherever they happen to be feeding, they would escape notice? These are questions I shall not attempt to solve.

Estimates placed the number of Crows in these two island roosts at half a million, and they held possession of the islands undisturbed until about the time of the establishment of Fort Delaware. They did not relish this intrusion, and determined to desert the ancestral Pea-patch roost; being also influenced, no doubt, by a storm which flooded the island at night and drowned thousands of the unfortunate birds.

The Reedy Island roost continued in use until the establishment of the Quarantine Station, at a much later day; then it, too, was deserted, and the famous island roosts were no more.

I have long been interested in the winter gatherings of the Crows, and made inquiry of the light-keeper at Reedy Island to ascertain whether any Crows at all remained there at the present time. I was informed that they came across from Delaware as of old in long flights from the west, northwest and southwest, but all passed over the island into New Jersey, where he judged they had established new winter quarters.

The location of this new roost at once became a matter of interest. By further inquiry I learned that Crows at Salem, N. J., nearly opposite the Pea-patch, flew southwards at evening, and by plotting this flight line with those given by the light-house keeper, on a map, I found that they joined some four or five miles below Salem, and here I felt sure the roost was to be found.

I had little trouble in impressing an ornithological friend, who resided at Salem, with the importance of locating this roost, and one cold afternoon in January found us driving off in the direction taken by the Salem Crow flight.

When we neared the point at which we thought the roost ought to be, we noticed a scattered line of Crows coming up from the south, evidently from feeding grounds on the shores of the bay. They came along in twos and threes, and alighted in a corn-field on our left, from which the farmer had neglected to haul in all of the ears. Here was a rare feast, and about a thousand birds were already assembled, to whose numbers constant additions were being made. This, we thought, must be the beginning of the evening assemblage, but, strange to say, no Crows were coming in from the west; these were all southern Crows, and, furthermore, they showed no signs of settling for the night, but were simply intent on the grain.

Driving further on, we inquired of a man where the Crows roosted, and were assured that they made use of a long strip of woods lying between us and the river. Investigation, however, showed not a Crow in the wood, and we were inclined to believe that we had been purposely misled. Passing through the trees, we had an unobstructed view of the river. The sun was just setting, a round, red ball of fire in the west, and in the yellow light we could see the lines of Delaware Crows crossing towards us, while in the fields before us were hundreds of Crows lazily flapping about much as the others were in the corn-field to the east.

Here, again, we were directed back to the same wood and assured that the birds would repair there when ready. It was just dusk as we hitched our horse and entered the woods; there was still no sign of Crows, but as we emerged on the farther side we found that an immense flight was just beginning to pass overhead from the westward; evidently the river Crows had concluded that bedtime had come. They did not, however, alight in the trees, but passed over and dropped noiselessly into the low fields just before us, seeming to select a black, burnt area on the far side. To our amazement this "burnt" patch proved to be a solid mass of Crows sitting close together, and in the gathering gloom it was difficult to see how far it extended. Four immense flights of the birds were now pouring into the fields, in one of which we estimated that 500 Crows passed overhead per minute, during the height of the flight.

It was now quite dark, and we began to think that the birds had no intention of retiring to the woods, so determined to vary the monotony of the scene and at the same time warm our chilled bodies. We, therefore, ran rapidly toward the nearest birds and shouted together just as they first took wing. The effect was marvellous; with a roar of wings the whole surface of the ground seemed to rise. The birds hovered about a minute, and then entered the woods; we soon saw that but a small portion of the assemblage had taken wing. Those farther off had not seen us in the darkness, and doubtless thought that this was merely the beginning of the regular nightly retirement into the trees. The movement, once started, became contagious, and the Crows arose steadily section by section. The bare branches of the trees which stood out clearly against the western sky but a minute before seemed to be clothed in thick foliage as the multitude of birds settled down.

After all had apparently entered the roost, we shouted again and the roar of wings was simply deafening; another shout brought the same result in undiminished force, and even then, probably not half the birds took wing.

They soon settled down again, and we were glad to leave them in peace. So far as we could learn they are but little molested, and let us hope that this may continue. Many of the large roosts farther north in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, seem to be rapidly decreasing in size, owing to thoughtless persecution, and eventually the poor birds may be driven to roost in scattered detachments, as would, indeed, seem best for their preservation; but if this comes to pass, one of the most impressive phenomena of our bird-life will have disappeared.

Winter Bird Notes from Southern New Hampshire

BY WILLIAM EVERETT CRAM

Illustrated by the author

January 1, 1898. Northern birds have, as a rule, been decidedly rare this winter. In November, Goshawks were quite abundant, and a few Snowy Owls were also to be seen at that time. As I was returning from a tramp just at dusk one evening, one of the great white fellows came sailing by only a few yards from the ground. His manner of sailing and something in the set of his wings reminded me strongly of an Eagle flying before the wind; there were evident the same power and swiftness without visible effort. He came from the northeast on the wind of a rising storm, and had evidently but just arrived, being in much more perfect plumage than is usual in November, appearing, at the distance of only a few yards, absolutely white, with his big yellow eyes burning among his snowy feathers.

Snow Buntings were also common in November, and Horned Larks during the first part of the month. I noticed a large flock of the latter one morning feeding in the stubble and, observing that they were moving towards me, crouched motionless until they came up and surrounded me, gathering seeds in the earnest, industrious manner of domestic Pigeons, and exhibiting but little more alarm at my presence. On the 27th a Shrike alighted in the top of the elm near the house, and, after reconnoitering for a few moments, started down into the orchard, but apparently missed whatever it struck at and, turning upward, alighted in a smaller elm by the road, when it at once began tearing to pieces an old bird's nest, behaving exactly as if in anger at its disappointment.

For some time I was unable to discover what it had at first been after, but finally caught sight of a Downy Woodpecker clinging motionless to the underside of a small branch in an apple tree, with every feather drawn down close to its body, just as an owl does when trying to escape notice.

After a while it began turning its head from side to side, as if to make sure its enemy had disappeared. When I attempted to make it fly, it merely crept mouse-like about the branches until perfectly certain that the Shrike had gone, when it took wing and flew to another tree, where it presently went to work as if nothing had happened.

Throughout December the only birds to be found were Crows, Blue Jays, Downy Woodpeckers, Black-capped Chickadees, Nuthatches, Golden-crowned Kinglets, Brown Creepers, and Partridges, with an occasional Bald Eagle or Rough-legged Hawk and a very few Flickers. A large flock of Wild Geese passed over on the 7th, and I saw a few Tree Sparrows and a Winter Wren about the last of the month. The Sparrows lingered about until the first week in January, when a large flock of Snow Buntings made their appearance. A few days later, however, neither Sparrows nor Buntings were to be found anywhere.

January 6. Going through the woods I heard the small birds making quite a fuss in the young growth, and on looking for the cause, discovered a Saw-whet Owl in a little hemlock. When I first caught sight of him he was sitting on one of the smaller branches ten feet from the ground, apparently asleep, with his back to the trunk and his head tipped back. On being closely approached, he seemed to awake suddenly with a start, at once turning his great round eyes in my direction, and after that, never removed them from me for an instant, though I walked around his tree several times. He had a partly eaten white-footed mouse slung across the branch beside him, probably the remains of his breakfast.

Most of the small birds contented themselves with chirping at him from the surrounding trees, occasionally approaching to inspect him more closely and then flying off again, but one Red-breasted Nuthatch remained from the first on a twig close to the Owl's head, and kept up a continual harsh rasping cry, as if having some especial cause of complaint against him. A Flicker and some Blue Jays alighted in the neighboring trees, but not seeing anything of importance, soon flew away again.

When I shook the tree the Owl merely fluttered a few yards, and lit on a maple sapling just out of my reach. The next time he tried to hide by alighting on the further side of the stem of a pine several inches in diameter, but finding this of no avail, at last took a longer flight off through the woods, where I was unable to follow him.

January 28. Heard what I at first took to be the song of a Ruby-crowned Kinglet to-day, but it proved to be a Black-capped Chickadee, uttering what was to me an entirely new note; like the Kinglet's, only fainter and shorter, with just a little of the ring of the Canary's song in it. He was sitting all alone under the dark evergreens, singing to himself in a manner wholly out of keeping with the general disposition and taste of the Chickadee. When I at last disturbed him, he flew to another tree and began searching for insects, uttering the familiar note of his species.

February 3. There is a little Junco hopping about the path to-day, in spite of the fact that the mercury has been very near zero most of the time for the last fortnight, and that the snow is drifted eight or ten feet deep in places. He appears to spend a considerable portion of his time in the woodshed, poking about among the chips, etc., and I fancy sleeps somewhere about the building.

There are also a few Flickers and at least one Meadowlark in this vicinity, and since the last heavy snowfall they have become unusually tame and familiar, coming close about the house for food. Goldfinches and Tree Sparrows are still quite abundant, and there is a flock of fifty or sixty Pine Grosbeaks, mostly in young plumage, in the woods about a mile to the west of us, the first I have seen this winter.

February 6. About five o'clock this evening a large Goshawk in rather dark plumage came flying across the field only a few yards above the snow. As he neared a tall elm he rose in the air and alighted near the top of the tree, and after sitting there for a few moments, turning his head in all directions, he opened his wings and tumbled from his perch, falling several yards down among the branches before regaining his balance, when he flew rapidly off toward the west and disappeared among the pines. Just a week ago I noticed where a Goshawk, judging from the tracks in the snow, had killed a rabbit, so that it would seem that they have not been entirely absent at any time this winter.

February 7. Have just seen a Goshawk, apparently in young plumage, flying west at a height of perhaps sixty or seventy yards from the ground.

February 13. The Great Horned Owls began hooting nearly an hour before sunset this evening. It is remarkable how loud their cry sounds at a distance of half a mile or even a mile. I am convinced that they can be heard distinctly two miles away, for I have often heard them in the day time from a direction in which the nearest woods were at least as far as that. There are always several pairs dwelling in a certain dark hemlock swamp about a mile and a half away, and sometimes in the evening, or by moonlight, they come hunting across the meadows and pastures, hooting at intervals as they come. When they get within one hundred yards or so their cry is loud enough to arouse everyone in the house.

February 18. Followed the track of a Hawk, apparently a Goshawk, twenty or thirty rods through the birch woods west of the cove. From the appearance of the tracks the bird must have walked much after the manner of a Crow, though dragging its claws more. Occasionally it hopped for a few feet. There was no sign of its having killed any game near there and having eaten so much as to be unable to fly at once, as is sometimes the case. At times it followed in the tracks of rabbits for some distance. I have often known them to do this, and am inclined to think that they occasionally hunt rabbits in this manner where the under-brush is too dense to allow them to fly through it easily. I have sometimes followed their tracks through the brush until I came upon the remains of freshly killed rabbits which they had been eating. On coming out into an opening, I saw a beautiful male Goshawk in full blue plumage perched on the top of a dead maple in a swamp. When I tried to approach, he took wing and flew off toward the north.

How the Central Park Chickadees Were Tamed

BY A. A. CROLIUS[I]

[Footnote I: In Bird-Lore for April, pp. 55 and 58, there were given accounts of experiences with the remarkably tame Chickadees that passed the winter of 1898-9 in Central Park, New York City. The present paper solves the mystery of their surprising confidence in man.--Ed.]

IN the early part of the winter of 1898-9 Chickadees were unusually abundant in Central Park, New York City, and a friend and myself saw them come down and get some of the nuts we were feeding to White-throated Sparrows. We were, of course, much interested, and determined to see if we could tame them. They would take the nuts to a limb, eat all they wished, and hide the rest in crevices in trees or bushes, where, I think, they seldom found them again, for the impudent and ever wide-awake English Sparrow watched and got the pieces almost as soon as they were deposited. After feeding them in this way for some time, we tried to get them to eat from our hands, and finally succeeded by first placing our hands on the ground with a nut about a foot from our fingers, then a little nearer, then on the ends of our fingers, and lastly in the palms of our hands. There was a great shout when they hopped on our hands the first time, our delight being indescribable.

Finding that kneeling or bending over on the ground was rather hard work, we tried holding out our hands when standing, or while sitting on the benches, and they very soon came, no matter where we were or in what attitude. The little creatures never seemed to get tired if we remained hours at a time, and it was indeed difficult to tear oneself away. Just as I would make up my mind to be off one would fly over my head calling _chick-a-dee-dee_ in such a bewitching way as to make it impossible to leave. I would say to myself, "Just one piece more," then throw a lot of nuts on the ground and make a 'bee line' for home, never looking back for fear the temptation would be too great, and I should find myself retracing my steps. After a time they would come to me and follow me anywhere in the park, whenever I called them, and getting better acquainted I found the birds possessed of so many different traits of character that I named each one accordingly. One I called the 'Scatterer,' because he stood on my hand and deliberately threw piece after piece of nut on the ground, looking down as they fell with the most mischievous twinkle in his eyes, as much as to say, "see what I've done," then take a piece and fly away. This he did dozens of times in succession. I thought at first he would rather pick them up from the ground, but he came directly back and waited for me to do it. Another I called 'Little Ruffled Breast,' on account of the feathers on the breast being rough and much darker than the rest. He was the most affectionate, had a sweet disposition, and, like human beings of the same character, was often imposed upon, many times being driven off by the others when he was just about taking a nut. He was very tame, and had perfect confidence in anyone who would feed him. The third I named the 'Boss,' because he took the lead and carried the day. He was a beauty, spick and span in his dress, not a feather out of place, and plump and perfect in form. The fourth, dubbed 'Little Greedy,' was very fascinating, and I must confess to loving him more than the rest, having had a most novel experience with him, and one never to be forgotten. He came to me one morning, and, lighting on my hand, sang _chick-a-dee-dee_ two or three times, helped himself to a nut, and, perching on my forefinger, put the nut under his foot, as I have seen them do many a time on the trees, remaining there until he had eaten it. I was thrilled through and through with the sensation and the perfect trustfulness of the little creature, and was sorry when he had finished. But why was he called Greedy? Because he usually took two pieces instead of one, and, strange to say, knew that he must have both the same size or one would fall out. It was very funny to see him with a good sized piece, his bill stretched to its utmost capacity, trying to fit in another. He turned his bill first on one side then on the other, thinking he could wedge it in by forcing it against my hand, and he succeeded in this wonderful feat by his perseverance and indomitable will.

The Surprising Contents of a Birch Stub

BY FRANK M. CHAPMAN

After seeing Dr. Roberts' interesting Chickadee photographs, published in the first number of Bird-Lore, my ambition was aroused to discover a nest of this species so situated as to afford an opportunity to secure equally charming pictures of Chickadee life. Late in May the desire was gratified by the discovery, at Englewood, N. J., of a Chickadee's nest in a white birch stub, about four feet from the ground, a height admirably suited to the needs of bird photography.

I will not here present the results of my study of the parent birds during their period of incubation, but will pass at once to that part of my experience which relates to their progeny.

Returning to the nest on June 12th, nothing was to be seen of either parent, and I feared that they or their offspring had fallen victims to the countless dangers which beset nesting birds and their young. Looking about for some clue to their fate, I found on the ground, near the nest-stub, the worn tail-feathers of the female bird. The molting season had not yet arrived, nor would she have shed all these feathers at the same moment. There could, therefore, be only one interpretation of their presence. Some foe, probably a Sharp-shinned or Cooper's Hawk, since the predaceous mammals for the most part hunt at night when the Chickadee would be snugly sleeping in her nest, had made a dash and grasped her by the tail, which she had sacrificed in escaping. A moment later the theory was supported by the appearance of a subdued looking Chickadee, _sans_ tail, and I congratulated her on her fortunate exchange of life for a member which of late had not been very decorative and of which, in any event, nature would have soon deprived her.

The young proved to be nearly ready to fly, and carefully removing the front of their log-cabin, a sight was disclosed such as mortal probably never beheld before, and Chickadee but rarely.

Six black and white heads were raised and six yellow-lined mouths opened in expressive appeal for food. But this was not all; there was another layer of Chickadees below, how many it was impossible to say without disentangling a compact wad of birds in which the outlines of no one bird could be distinguished. So I built a piazza, as it were, at the Chickadee threshold, in the shape of a perch of proper size, and beneath, as a life-net, spread a piece of mosquito-bar. Then I proceeded to individualize the ball of feathers; one, two, three, to seven were counted without undue surprise, but when an eighth and ninth were added, I marvelled at the energy which had supplied so many mouths with food, and at the same time wondered how many caterpillars had been devoured by this one family of birds.

Not less remarkable than the number of young--and no book I have consulted records so large a brood--was their condition. Not only did they all appear lusty, but they seemed to be about equally developed, the slight difference in strength and size which existed being easily attributable to a difference in age, some interval, doubtless, having elapsed between the hatching of the first and last egg.

This fact would have been of interest had the birds inhabited an open nest, or a nest large enough for them all to have had an equal opportunity to receive food, but where only two-thirds of their number could be seen from above at once it seems remarkable, that, one or more failing to receive his share of food--and a very little neglect would have resulted fatally--had not been weakened in consequence and crushed to death by more fortunate members of the brood. Nor was their physical condition the only surprising thing about the members of this Chickadee family; each individual was as clean as though he had been reared in a nest alone, and an examination of the nest showed that it would have been passed as perfect by the most scrupulous sanitary inspector. It was composed of firmly padded rabbit's fur, and except for the sheaths worn off the growing feathers of the young birds, was absolutely clean. Later I observed that the excreta of the young were enclosed in membranous sacs, which enabled the parents to readily remove them from the nest.

The last bird having been placed in the net, I attempted to pose them in a row on the perch before their door. The task reminded me of almost forgotten efforts at building card houses which, when nearly completed, would be brought to ruin by an ill-placed card. How many times each Chickadee tumbled or fluttered from his perch I cannot say. The soft, elastic net spread beneath them preserved them from injury, and bird after bird was returned to his place so little worse for his fall that he was quite ready to try it again. On several occasions eight birds were induced to take the positions assigned them, then in assisting the ninth to his allotted place the balance of the birds on either side would be disturbed and down into the net they would go.

These difficulties, however, could be overcome, but not so the failure of the light at the critical time, making it necessary to expose with a wide open lens at the loss of a depth of focus.

The picture presented, therefore, does not do the subject justice. Nor can it tell of the pleasure with which each fledgling for the first time stretched its wings and legs to their full extent and preened its plumage with before unknown freedom.

At the same time, they uttered a satisfied little _dee-dee-dee_, in quaint imitation of their elders. When I whistled their well-known _phe-be_ note they were at once on the alert, and evidently expected to be fed.

Photographed from nature by F. M. Chapman]

The birds were within two or three days of leaving the nest, and the sitting over, came the problem of returning the flock to a cavity barely two inches in diameter, the bottom of which was almost filled by one bird.

I at once confess a failure to restore anything like the condition in which they were found, and when the front of their dwelling was replaced Chickadees were overflowing at the door. If their healthfulness had not belied the thought, I should have supposed it impossible for them to exist in such close quarters.

A few days later I found their home deserted, and as no other pair of Chickadees was known to nest in the vicinity, I imagine them to compose a troop of birds I sometimes meet in the neighborhood.

Richardson's Owl

BY P. B. PEABODY

With photographs from nature by the author

ON the thirteenth of April last, at Hallock, Minn., while afield in the morning after Migration Report data, I stumbled suddenly upon a Richardson's Owl, in a willow bush, four feet up, on a brush-land side-hill, two hundred yards above the river. A strong wind was blowing, and kept the willow stems a-swaying and the feathers fluttering, while the dullness of an overcast sky made quick exposures impossible. Nevertheless, I hurried home, a mile away, and returned with camera and plates,--'Crown' and 'Stanley.' The bird was still _in situ_, and leaning, as before, against the upright stem nearest him, as a brace against the wind. With stop 16, or a little larger, and time 1/5 to 1/2 second, both according to the conditions of wind and sky, eight exposures were made, beginning at five feet distance, and with waits for lulls in the wind. The bird seemed fearless, but I dared not try to put him on the alert, nor cause him to open his eyes. The eighth exposure was made at about two feet, the camera leisurely dismounted, and the bird then quietly caught about the back, with the left hand, while his attention was distracted with the right.

The little captive showed no fight nor did he try to escape so long as I held him by the feet, in an upright position. But when his body was clasped he would struggle vigorously. With all the handling I gave him in taking weights and measures, the only wounding he caused my hands was made in his attempts to secure a better grasp of my holding hand. While not actually tame, from the first he showed ecstatic delight in my stroking of the feathers on the back of his head,--chirping delightedly during the process, with much the manner and voice of a chicken when tucked under the maternal wing.

While spending his first night of captivity in my study, pending careful examination, he dropped upon my book-cases several casts, which are still awaiting analysis. At noon of the second day he was placed in the garret, where he had a measure of darkness and plenty of wing room. Here he ate readily the heads of food that was left convenient, varying this occupation with the tearing to pieces of an old Cooper's Hawk skin. So far as I could judge, he ate only on alternate days.

During the eight days of his sojourn with me, no increase of tameness was shown; and he would fly when I came near, seeking the darkest cranny of the garret, scolding me often with the characteristic anger-note of all the smaller Hawks and Owls. Soon my captive found a permanent home in the family of the foster-father of Minnesota ornithology, where, I was soon informed, he became quickly domesticated,--eating bits of steak from a chop-stick, beheading English Sparrows with neat despatch, and drinking from a teaspoon.

=For Teachers and Students=

An 'Advisory Council'

It gives us unusual pleasure to announce a plan, the fulfilment of which, already assured, will, we believe, be of great assistance to bird students and exert an important influence on the increase in our knowledge of North American birds.

Realizing from a most fortunate experience how greatly the past-master in ornithology may aid the beginner, we have felt that it would be an admirable scheme to form an 'Advisory Council,' composed of leading ornithologists throughout the United States and Canada, who would consent to assist students by responding to their requests for information or advice, the student being thus brought into direct communication with an authority on the birds of his own region.

The response to our appeal has been most gratifying. Without exception the ornithologists whom we have addressed have cordially endorsed the proposed plan, and signified their willingness to coöperate with us in this effort to reach the isolated worker. Nearly every state in the Union and province in Canada has been heard from, and we expect in our next number to publish the names and addresses of the more than fifty prominent ornithologists who will form Bird-Lore's 'Advisory Council.'--Ed.

"Humanizing" the Birds

CAROLINE G. SOULE

IN the first number of Bird-Lore the author of 'Bird Studies for Children' says: "Most bird stories will interest them [children], especially if the birds are humanized for them by the teller of the tale." Humanizing, in this connection, means endowing with human characteristics, and is a process much in vogue just now among writers of nature-study books and papers for the use of children and teachers. Let us see if it is worth doing--or even is justifiable.

Birds possess some characteristics or qualities which are also possessed by human beings, and by other animals. These qualities are not merely "human" then, but are common to many species of creatures. Since birds already have these qualities, there is no need of endowing them with them. To "humanize" the birds by ascribing to them human qualities which they do not and cannot possess, is only to misrepresent them, and stories which so humanize them are of no more value, as nature-study or bird-study, than so many fairy-tales. More than this--they are positively harmful because they give, as facts, statements about existing creatures which are not true. This is not bird-study; it is only telling stories which interest the children, and which have no value except in keeping them quiet. The children are not interested in the real birds, for they are not told about them. They are interested in the stories, invented for this end, about creatures which the story-teller _calls_ birds but which are only human characteristics draped on bird forms. Very slight changes would be needed to make the same stories fit any humanized animal. The real nature of the bird is left out of these humanized bird stories and the loss is very great, as always when truth is left out.

To tell of "Mr. and Mrs. Robin" is well enough, for the titles merely mean the male and female. To represent them as talking is well enough, for they certainly communicate with each other and their young, and putting their communications into human speech is merely translating them. But to represent them as uttering highly moral speeches is all wrong, for these are beyond the power of the birds. The moment that the story humanizes them in any such way it becomes of no value, because it is false to nature.

The humanizing process is lavishly applied to all sorts of creatures, even to plants.

For instance, in a very popular book occurs the following:--"And so the witch-hazel, knowing that neither boy nor girl, nor bird nor beast nor wind, will come to the rescue of its little ones, is obliged to take matters into its own hands, and this is what it does." This is an extreme case of humanizing. The writer states that this brainless plant _knows_ that its seeds will not be scattered by children, animals or wind. This implies that the plant is conscious of its seeds; that it realizes the importance of their distribution; that it knows what boys, girls, birds, animals and wind are; that it knows how the seeds of other plants are distributed; and that it plans a method of scattering its own seed! This is certainly more mental power than we are warranted in ascribing to a plant. But children are much interested in the story, and think the witch-hazel very clever to plan so ingenious a way of distributing its seeds. That it is not true does not trouble them, because they do not know it, and I can learn of very few teachers using this book, who have thought enough about the subjects treated to realize that they are so humanized as to be untrue to their own natures. I quote this as an instance of the lengths to which humanizing may be carried without discovery by the average reader.

Humanizing the creatures takes them out of their own place in Nature, by endowing them with powers higher than they can really possess. It sets aside all the laws of evolution, and is not only untrue to the nature of the individual, but to the principles which underlie all Nature. Young children are not ready for these general laws and principles, but it cannot be good pedagogics to give them ideas in direct contradiction to all those laws which must be taught them a little later, and which will at once prove the falseness of this earlier teaching.

"Interest" is not everything in teaching children. Truth counts for more in the long run, and, especially in Nature study, may be made quite as interesting as "humanization."

'On the Ethics of Caging Birds'

To the Editor of 'Bird-Lore:'

I thank you for offering me an opportunity to be heard in my own defense. But controversy is--if possible--more distasteful to me than injustice. Therefore, while it is painful to be misrepresented, I will answer my critics only by saying that they have entirely--I do not say wilfully--misunderstood me, and that no one who knows me could for an instant believe me guilty of "favoring" or "encouraging," the caging, the wearing, or the eating of our little brothers, the birds.

Olive Thorne Miller.

=For Young Observers=

The Birds' Christmas Tree

How many of the younger readers of Bird-Lore know that in Norway, birds, as well as children, have Christmas trees? Indeed, it is said that the children do not enjoy their own gifts until they know the birds have been provided for.

Concerning this beautiful custom of putting out a yule sheaf for the birds, Dr. Leonhard Stejneger, the eminent Norwegian ornithologist, writes us that the sheaves are usually of barley or oats, and are placed on high poles standing either in the yard or nailed to the gable end of one of the houses, preferably the storehouse or "stabbur," or on the stable, but always where they can be seen from the dwelling house. Dr. Stejneger adds that the origin of the custom is shrouded in the mystery of the mythological ages.

From the painting of A. Tideman, published in 'Norwegian Pictures,' London, 1885.]

Here, then, is a country where, as far as anyone knows, the birds have always had a Christmas tree, while in America most birds, I imagine, consider themselves lucky if they chance to find a stray crumb on Christmas morning. So let us all be good Norwegians this coming Christmas and see that the birds are well supplied, if not with sheaves--at least with crumbs, seed, and grain for the Juncos and Sparrows, suet, ham-bones, and bacon rinds for the Woodpeckers, Chickadees, and Nuthatches. And then let us improve on the Norwegian usage by making every winter day Christmas for the birds, so that no matter how deep the snow, they may always be sure of a meal. Then, next March, write and tell Bird-Lore of your winter guests, who they were, and what you have learned of their habits. To the boy or girl of fourteen years, or under, who sends us the best account of his or her experience in feeding the birds this winter, we will give a copy of Mrs. Wright's 'Citizen Bird' or 'Wabeno.'--Ed.

The Little Brown Creeper

BY GARRETT NEWKIRK

Photographed from a mounted specimen]

"Although I'm a bird, I give you my word
That seldom you'll know me to fly;
For I have a notion about locomotion,
The little Brown Creeper am I,
Dear little Brown Creeper am I.

"Beginning below, I search as I go
The trunk and the limbs of a tree,
For a fly or a slug, a beetle or bug;
They're better than candy for me,
Far better than candy for me.

"When people are nigh I'm apt to be shy,
And say to myself, 'I will hide,'
Continue my creeping, but carefully keeping
Away on the opposite side,
Well around on the opposite side.

"Yet sometimes I peek while I play hide and seek,
If you're nice I shall wish to see _you_:
I'll make a faint sound and come quite around,
And creep like a mouse in full view,
Very much like a mouse to your view."

=Notes from Field and Study=

An Interesting Phoebe's Nest

Photographed from nature]

The accompanying illustration shows an interesting Phoebe's nest. It is well-known that this bird prefers to build close to some overhead protection, but I have never seen, and have heard of only one other similar structure, showing such evidence of forethought by the builder; for this bird has constructed a pedestal by means of which her nest was raised to the desired height.

The location chosen was three feet or so back under the piazza roof of a lonely, unused summer cottage by the shore of Webster lake, in Franklin, N. H.

The foundations were begun on a door-cap to the left of, although almost in touch with, an upright cleat. Soon the builder made a turn to the right, that the pedestal might rest firmly against this cleat. From this point the work continued perpendicularly full twelve inches, with the breadth of about three inches and a thickness of one and one-half inches. Upon this the enlargement was made for the nest proper, which was destined to safely cradle her brood of four.--Ellen E. Webster, _Franklin Falls, N. H._

[Two years ago John Burroughs showed us a nest similar to the one
here described, built beneath the eaves, on a slight projection in
the rough hewn rock of the railway station at West Park, N. Y.--Ed.]

A Useful Nest-Holder

After the leaves fall many deserted birds' nests will be exposed to view. The larger number will still be found serviceable for study, and in collecting them a note of the site, height from the ground, if in a tree or bush, etc., should be made to aid in their identification.

The accompanying cut shows a very useful holder for such specimens. It was designed by Mr. George B. Sennett, and is made of annealed wire, about the bottom of which is tied hair wire, as shown. At this stage, the nest is placed in the holder, the four uprights are cut off to the required height, and bent in or out, in order to bring them closely to the sides of the nest; the wrapping with hair wire is then continued until the nest is firmly bound. In this way such loosely built nests as those of the Mourning Dove or Cuckoo may be held in shape without in the least concealing their structure.--Ed.

A Singing Blue Jay

Not long ago, when the snow covered the ground several inches deep, I heard as sweet a little song as one could expect to hear from a Warbler in May, come from a clump of small plum trees in the back yard. Creeping softly in the direction of the sound, I could see nothing but a stately Blue Jay perched upon one of the upper limbs. I waited patiently, and soon the song came again, sweet and mellow as before; this time I could plainly see the Jay's open bill and the muscular movements of his throat. I could hardly believe my eyes, as I had been accustomed to hear only harsh sounds from a Jay's throat. I raised to a standing posture, the Blue Jay flew away. I looked carefully all about, and no other birds were in sight. This Blue Jay remained in the neighborhood all winter, and several times I had the pleasure of hearing his sweet little song.--Frank E. Horack, _Iowa City, Iowa_.

To Hunt Southern Birds

Rockville Centre, L. I., November 9.--O. H. Tuthill and Robert T. Willmarth, of this village, Benjamin Molitor, of East Rockaway, and Coles Powell, of Seaford, started yesterday on a bird skinning and stuffing expedition to the Florida coast. The men went aboard of Mr. Molitor's little 28-foot sloop, Inner Beach, which is fitted with both sails and gas engine.

They take the inside route through bays, rivers and canals to Beaufort, N. C. From there on to their destination they will have to take their chances outside on the ocean. The men go to shoot all kinds of water birds, for which there is an unprecedented demand this season by millinery manufacturers. After being killed, most of the birds will be skinned and stuffed roughly with cotton, and every week shipments will be made to New York.

Mr. Tuthill is an old hand in the business. The last time there was a large demand for birds by the makers of women's headgear, about twelve years ago, he took an outfit to Florida and during the winter shipped 140,000 bird skins to New York.--_Brooklyn Eagle._

[We met Mr. Tuthill in Key West in February, 1892, and heard him
state that during a preceding winter his party had killed 130,000
birds for millinery purposes, and the information contained in the
above clipping is doubtless, therefore, accurate.--Ed.]

American Ornithologists' Union

The seventeenth annual congress of the American Ornithologists' Union convened at the Academy of Natural Sciences, in Philadelphia, on November 13, 1899. At the business meeting held on the night of that day the following officers were elected for the ensuing year: President, Robert Ridgway; vice presidents, C. Hart Merriam and C. B. Cory; secretary, John H. Sage; treasurer, William Dutcher; councilors, C. F. Batchelder, F. M. Chapman, Ruthven Deane, J. Dwight, Jr., A. K. Fisher, T. S. Roberts, Witmer Stone. Two corresponding and eighty-two associate members were elected.

The program for the three days' public sessions, on November 14-16, included the following papers:

Notes on the Flammulated Screech Owls, Harry C. Oberholser; Three Years' Migration data on City Hall Tower, Philadelphia, Wm. L. Baily; A Quantitative Study of Variation in the Smaller American Shrikes, Reuben M. Strong; The Habits and Structure of Harris' Cormorant, R. E. Snodgrass and F. A. Lucas; Bering Sea Arctic Snowflake (_Passerina hyperborea_) on its breeding grounds, C. Hart Merriam; On the Plumages of Certain Boreal Birds, Frank M. Chapman; On the Perfected Plumage of _Somateria spectabilis_, Arthur H. Norton; The Summer Molting Plumage of Eider Ducks, Witmer Stone; An Oregon Fish Hawk Colony, Vernon Bailey; Exhibition of a series of field sketches made from absolutely fresh birds, showing the true life colors of the soft parts, mostly in the breeding season, Louis Agassiz Fuertes; The Sequence of Plumages and Molts in Certain Families of North American Birds, Jonathan Dwight, Jr.; The Ranges of _Hylocichla fuscescens_ and _Hylocichla f. salicicola_, Reginald Heber Howe, Jr.; On the occurrence of the Egyptian Goose (_Chenalopex ægyptiaca_) in North America, Frank C. Kirkwood; Notes on the Habits of the Great Mexican Swift (_Hemiprocne zonaris_), Sam'l N. Rhoads; Further remarks on the Relationships of the Grackles of the Sub-genus _Quiscalus_, Frank M. Chapman; Audubon's Letters to Baird--compiled from Copies of the originals kindly furnished by Miss Lucy H. Baird, Witmer Stone; A Peculiar Sparrow Hawk, William Palmer; The Requirements of a Faunal List, W. E. Clyde Todd; Report of the A. O. U. Committee on Protection of N. A. Birds, Witmer Stone; An account of the Nesting of Franklin's Gull (_Larus franklinii_) in Southern Minnesota, illustrated by lantern slides, Thos. S. Roberts; Bird Studies with a Camera, illustrated by lantern slides, Frank M. Chapman; Home Life of some Birds, illustrated by lantern slides, Wm. Dutcher; Slides--series of Kingfisher, Gulls, etc., Wm. L. Baily; The Effects of Wear upon Feathers, illustrated by lantern slides, Jonathan Dwight, Jr.; Exhibition of lantern slides of Birds, Birds' Nests and Nesting Haunts, from Nature, members; Language of the Birds, Nelson R. Wood; A New Wren from Alaska, Harry C. Oberholser; The Molt of the Flight feathers in various Orders of Birds, Witmer Stone; Some Cuban Birds, Jno. W. Daniels, Jr.; On the Orientation of Birds, Capt. Gabriel Reynaud, French army; On the Habits of the Hoatzin (_Opisthocomus cristatus_), George K. Cherrie.

=Book News and Reviews=