Chapter XII: Introduction: By L. H. Bailey (5)

_If you have not made an ant-nest and observed the ant as indicated, make some field observations. These may be made with the naked eye, or with a tripod lens. Such a lens costs about thirty-five cents._

1. Have you ever seen an ant-hill? If so, describe it.

2. Do all ants build mound nests?

3. In what situations have you found ant-nests?

4. How many kinds of ants do you know?

5. Have you ever seen winged ants? If so, describe the experience.

6. What is the reason for a winged form of ants?

7. Have you observed ants meet and "converse" with each other? If so, how did they do it?

8. Have you seen the ants carrying their young? If so, how do they do it?

9. If you have made an ant-nest, tell what you have seen going on within it.

10. Tell any experiences you have had with ants, that show their courage, energy or cleverness.

_The white pieces around the edges and at the center are strips of canton flannel, forming walls and partition to the nest. Note the doors at the lower left and upper right hand corners and at lower end of the partition. The piece of blotting paper in the chamber at the left chanced to have a picture of an eagle upon it. The small white objects are pupæ, assorted in heaps._]

ANTS AND THEIR HERDS.[28]

[28] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 8, May, 1904.

Very soon after the green leaves come, one may notice that the ants seem to be greatly interested in getting to the tops of trees, bushes and vines. If one watches for only a short time, he may see them hastening up and down with that important ant-air which says plainly, "There now, don't hinder me, I haven't a moment to waste." If we should follow with our eyes one of these hurried six-footed Marthas on her way up a tree, we would find that her business was that of milk-maid. Her cows are there pasturing on the leaves overhead, and she hastens to them coaxing for the milk, which is a clear drop of sweet honeydew. For many years entomologists repeated the statement that the honeydew secreted by aphids or plant-lice for the use of the ants came from the two little tubes on the back of the insect. It is easy to see how this mistake came about; the tubes were there, and so was the honeydew; the tubes suggested a cow's udder, and as the ants use the honeydew the natural inference was that it came from the tubes. This interesting error has been printed in so many honorable books, that it has become a classic. As a matter of fact, the caterpillars of our little, blue butterflies do have glands on the abdomen which secrete honeydew for the use of the ants; but the honeydew of the plant-lice, like honey itself, is manufactured in the alimentary canal, and issues from it. Observations have shown that each individual plant-louse may produce from five to seven drops of honeydew in twenty-four hours. If our cows could produce as much in proportion, then a good Holstein would give something like six thousand pounds of milk per day, and would be a highly profitable animal to have in the dairy. Although the honeydew does not come from the little tubes on the back of the plant-louse, yet those tubes have their uses. I once observed a young spider approaching an aphid, which was facing its enemy. As the spider approached, the aphid lifted its abdomen, and thrust one of these tubes over directly in the spider's face, and on this tube there suddenly appeared a little ball of yellow wax. The whole act was so like a pugilist thrusting his fist in his enemy's face that I laughed. The spider retreated and the aphid let its abdomen fall back in its natural position, but the little wax ball remained for some time on the tip of the tube. A German scientist, Mr. Busgen, of the University of Jena, discovered that a plant-louse smeared the eyes and jaws of his enemy, the aphis-lion, with this wax which dried as soon as applied. In action it was something like throwing a basin of paste at the head of an attacking party. Mr. Busgen discovered that the aphis-lion thus treated was obliged to stop and clean himself before he could go on with his hunt, and meantime the aphid walked off in safety.

The honeydew is excreted in such quantities that often the pavement beneath trees may be seen to be spattered by the drops of this sweet rain. It seems to be excreted solely for attracting the ants. In return for this, the ants give care and protection to their herds. They sometimes take them into their nests and care for them. In one case, at least, one species of ant builds for one species of aphid (which lives upon dogwood) a little mud stable which protects the aphids from all enemies. This stable is neatly placed at the fork of the twigs and has a little circular door by which the ants may enter (Fig. 158). The lady-bug larvæ and the ant-lions both feed voraciously on the aphids; an ant will attack single-handed one of these depredators, although it be much larger than herself, and will drive it away or perish in the attempt.

Some so-called practical people say, "Let us study only those things in Nature that affect our pocketbook, and not waste our time studying irrelevant things." If this spirit had animated scientists from the first, many of the most important economic discoveries would never have been made. This relation of ants to aphids is an example to the point. For a hundred years has the fact been known that ants use the aphids for their cows, and the practical men said, "This is a very pretty story, but what we want is some method of killing the aphids." It remained for Professor Forbes, of Illinois, to show the practical application of this "pretty story" in the life history of the corn-root plant-louse, which did great damage to the corn crop of the West. These plant-lice winter in the ground wherever they chance to be left by the dying roots of the last year's crop, and with their soft bodies could never work their way in the hard earth and to the roots of the newly-planted corn in the spring. Professor Forbes discovered that the ants in these infested fields make mines along the principal roots of the new corn; and that they then go out and collect the plant-lice, and place them in these burrows, and there watch over them and protect them.

OBSERVATION LESSON ON THE RELATION OF ANTS TO PLANT-LICE.

_A reading-glass or lens may be used to advantage in making these observations._

_Find some plant near at hand that is infested by aphids in order to note from time to time the relation of ants to these little creatures. Some aphids on the petiole and leaves of the Virginia Creeper on our piazza once afforded me a convenient field for daily observation._

1. How does the ant approach the aphid and ask for honeydew?

2. Does she wait long if there is no response?

3. Does the ant step on the aphids as she runs about among them?

4. What are the colors of the aphids you have observed?

5. On what plants were they feeding?

6. What sort of mouth parts have the aphids?

7. What part of the plant is their food, and how do they get it?

8. Why does not Paris green applied to the leaves on which aphids are feeding kill them?

9. Have you seen the lady-bird larvæ or the ant-lions destroying aphids? Explain.

10. Have you ever seen the little wax balls on the tubes of the plant-lice? If so, did you note when and why they were produced?

11. Have you ever seen an ant attacking the enemies of plant-lice? Describe.

12. How do you think this relation of ants to aphids affects agriculture?

13. Study what the ants do for the aphids which infest your rose bushes. Do you infer from this that it is well to exterminate the ant colonies in your flower garden?

14. Do you know how to clear your plants of plant-lice? If so, how? If not send to Cornell or some other experiment station for a spray bulletin.

LEAFLET XXII.

THE BIRDS AND I.[29]

BY L. H. BAILEY.

[29] Teachers' Leaflet No. 10, May, 1898.

The springtime belongs to the birds and me. We own it. We know when the Mayflowers and the buttercups bloom. We know when the first frogs peep. We watch the awakening of the woods. We are wet by the warm April showers. We go where we will, and we are companions. Every tree and brook and blade of grass is ours; and our hearts are full of song.

There are boys who kill the birds, and girls who want to catch them and put them in cages; and there are others who steal their eggs. The birds are not partners with them; they are only servants. Birds, like people, sing for their friends, not for their masters. I am sure that one cannot think much of the springtime and the flowers if his heart is always set upon killing or catching something. We are happy when we are free; and so are the birds.

The birds and I get acquainted all over again every spring. They have seen strange lands in the winter, and all the brooks and woods have been covered with snow. So we run and romp together, and find all the nooks and crannies which we had half forgotten since October. The birds remember the old places. The wrens pull the sticks from the old hollow rail and seem to be wild with joy to see the place again. They must be the same wrens that were here last year and the year before, for strangers could not make so much fuss over an old rail. The bluebirds and wrens look into every crack and corner for a place in which to build, and the robins and chipping-sparrows explore every tree in the old orchard.

If the birds want to live with us, we should encourage them. The first thing to do is to let them alone. Let them be as free from danger and fear as you or I. Take the hammer off the old gun, give pussy so much to eat that she will not care to hunt for birds, and keep away the boys who steal eggs and who carry sling-shots and throw stones. Plant trees and bushes about the borders of the place, and let some of them, at least, grow into tangles; then, even in the back yard, the wary cat-bird may make its home.

For some kinds of birds we can build houses. Some of the many forms which can be used are shown in the pictures at the end of this Leaflet. Any ingenious boy can suggest a dozen other patterns. Although birds may not appreciate architecture, it is well to make the houses neat and tasty by taking pains to have the proportions correct. The floor space in each compartment should be not less than five by six inches, and six by six or six by eight may be better. By cutting the boards in multiples of these numbers, one can easily make a house with several compartments; for there are some birds, as martins, tree swallows, and pigeons that like to live in families or colonies. The size of the doorway is important. It should be just large enough to admit the bird. A larger opening not only looks bad, but it exposes the inhabitants to dangers of cats and other enemies. Birds which build in houses, aside from doves and pigeons, are bluebirds, wrens, tree-swallows, martins, and sometimes the chickadees. For the wren and the chickadee the opening should be an inch augur hole, and for the others it should be about one-and-a-half inches. Only one opening should be provided for each house or compartment. A perch or door-step should be provided just below each door. It is here that the birds often stop to arrange their toilets; and when the mistress is busy with domestic affairs indoors the male-bird often sits outside and entertains her with the latest neighborhood gossip. These houses should be placed on poles or on buildings in somewhat secluded places. Martins and tree-swallows like to build their nests twenty-five feet or more above the ground, but the other birds usually prefer an elevation less than twelve feet. Newly made houses, and particularly newly painted ones, do not often attract the birds.

But if the birds and I are companions I must know them more intimately. Merely building houses for them is not enough. I want to know live and happy birds, not dead ones. We are not to know them, then, by catching them, or stuffing them, or collecting their eggs. Persons who make a business of studying birds may shoot birds now and then, and collect their eggs. But these persons are scientists and they are grown-up people. They are trying to add to the sum of human knowledge, while we want to know birds just because we want to. But even scientists do not take specimens recklessly. They do not rob nests. They do not kill brooding birds. They do not make collections merely for the sake of making them; and even their collections are less valuable than a knowledge of the bird as it lives and flies and sings.

Boys and girls should not make collections of eggs, for these collections are mere curiosities, as collections of spools and marbles are. They may afford some entertainment, to be sure, but one can find amusement in harmless ways. Some persons think that the securing of collections makes one a naturalist, but it does not. The naturalist cares more for things as they really are in their own homes than for museum specimens. One does not love the birds when he steals their eggs and breaks up their homes; and he is depriving the farmer of one of his best friends, for birds keep insects in check.

Stuffed birds do not sing and empty eggs do not hatch. Then let us go to the fields and watch the birds. Sit down on the soft grass and try to make out what the robin is doing on yonder fence or why the wren is bursting with song in the thicket. An opera-glass or spy-glass will bring them close to you. Try to find out not only what the colors and shapes and sizes are, but what their habits are. What does the bird eat? How much does it eat? Where is its nest? How many eggs does it lay? What color are they? How long does the mother bird sit? Does the father bird care for her when she is sitting? How long do the young birds remain in the nest? Who feeds them? What are they fed? Is there more than one brood in a season? Where do the birds go after breeding? Do they change their plumage? Are the mother birds and father birds unlike in size or color? How many kinds of birds do you know?

These are some of the things that every boy or girl wants to know; and we can find out by watching the birds! There is no harm in visiting the nests, if one does it in the right way. I have visited hundreds of them and have kept many records of the number of eggs and the dates when they were laid, how long before they hatched, and when the birds flew away; and the birds took no offense at my inquisitiveness. These are some of the cautions to be observed: Watch only those nests which can be seen without climbing, for if you have to climb the tree the birds will resent it. Make the visit when the birds are absent, if possible; at least, never scare the bird from the nest. Do not touch the eggs or the nest. Make your visit very short. Make up your mind just what you want to see, then look in quickly and pass on. Do not go too often; once or twice a day will be sufficient. Do not take the other children with you, for you are then likely to stay too long and to offend the birds.

Now let us see how intimately you can become acquainted with some bird this summer.

LEAFLET XXIII.

THE EARLY BIRDS.[30]

BY L. A. FUERTES.

[30] Nature-Study Quarterly, No. 4: Leaflet 17, March, 1900.

After a long winter, many of us are too impatient for spring to wait for the swelling of the buds, the opening of the early flowers, and the springing of the grass. Several weeks lie between the end of winter and the truly genial spring days, and during this interval we look for something to herald the settled spring season. And the thing which gives us that for which we are unconsciously looking, more than all other signs, is the arrival of the birds. Who has not warmed to the quavering call of the first blue-bird, or been suddenly thrilled some early spring day with the sunny notes of the song-sparrow!

In the southern part of this State, notably in the lower Hudson Valley, the winter is spent by several birds which elsewhere we are accustomed to see only after the winter has passed. Among these are the blue-bird, robin, song-sparrow, white-throated-sparrow, meadow-lark, and possibly the purple-finch. But in most of the State we must wait until the first or second week in March before we can be sure of seeing any of them. It is a question which of the earlier birds will first make its appearance, as these early migrants are much less regular in their movements than those that come late in April and in May, after the weather has become settled. Many a robin and blue-bird arrives during some early warm "spell," to find himself suddenly surrounded by flying snow and blown about by cold winds. But these and a few other hardy ones seem able to stand such rebuffs with great equanimity, and the momentary shining of a fickle March sun will often evoke some pent-up song-sparrow's notes from the shelter of a hedge or thicket. Robins, blue-birds, song-sparrows, cowbirds, meadow-larks, phoebes, bronzed grackles, kingfishers, and doves may be looked upon as the vanguards of the hosts of migrating birds that come to us each year, and the first four or five may be expected almost any time after the first week in March. If the winter has been late, these may not appear until the middle or even the latter part of the month, in which case one is busy keeping track of the arrivals, as the other birds have caught up then, and all come nearly at the same time.

It is unnecessary to give detailed descriptions of robins, bluebirds, and song-sparrows, as nearly everyone is familiar with them; but some of the other early comers may be more easily recognized if some field impressions of them be given.

* * * * *

Almost any warm day in early March we may hear a thin, clear "tsssss" in a high piping key, and on looking up see from one to five black birds, about the size of orioles, flying in a strange undulating manner--some up and some down, with the wings held close to their sides during the "drop" in their flight. They are cowbirds. The flock may swirl into the top of a tree and sit close together. (Fig. 178.) If this happens within eyeshot, stop and watch them for a moment. One or two of the males are almost certain to utter the ridiculous song of the species, which, like that of their relatives, the grackles, is accompanied by the most grotesque of actions. The bird spreads its wings to their utmost, spreads and elevates the tail, stretches its neck upwards and forwards, and then, quivering and tottering, nearly falls forward off the perch. The only sound which accompanies this absurd action is a faint chuckling "clk-sfs'k," which is scarcely to be heard a hundred feet away.

* * * * *

With the cowbirds we may expect the arrival of the bronzed grackles, which resemble them much in flight, but are larger and come in far larger flocks--sometimes ten, sometimes a hundred or more. Their arrival is known by the vigorous calls they utter while flying, a loud bass "jook." When seen squabbling in the spruce trees or in the bare branches of the willows fringing the streams, the males are likely to be giving their "song." It is scarcely more of a note than the cowbird's, a rusty squeak, and it is accompanied by a contortion in the same manner. It is not such a pronounced effort, however, and is often only a slight shudder and shrug of the shoulders. They feed, like cowbirds, mostly on the ground, and walk about most sedately in the grass like small crows. In tall grass, however, they waddle too much to be graceful. When taking flight they spread their long pointed tails in a very peculiar and characteristic manner--not out in a horizontal plane, like most birds, but up at the sides in the shape of a gardener's trowel, which gives them an extraordinary appearance.

* * * * *

The redwings begin to come into the marshes soon after the grackles, and are at that time in full feather and song. Their rich, deliberate "clonk-ka lrrrrrrr," interlarded with the clear piping whistles of some of the flock, makes a concert of bird-notes very dear to all who are familiar with it. In their scarlet and black velvet dress these birds are impossible to mistake, whether seen chasing over the marshes, singing from an elm-top, or balancing with spread tail upon some tall reed stalk.

* * * * *

There is a bird-note so often and so justly mistaken for that of the phoebe that the error certainly merits correction. The spring song of the chick-a-dee (which may be heard on almost any warm day all winter, and is very easy to call forth by even a poorly whistled imitation) is a clear, pure "^[=eee]_{[=eee]}" or "[--__ __]" which really says "Phoebe" much more plainly than the true phoebe note, this latter being much lower in tone, and only to be heard after March is well on, and almost always in the vicinity of running streams and brooklets; while the gay little chick-a-dee whistles at any time or place that suits his versatile fancy.

* * * * *

The mellow flute notes of the meadow larks (Fig. 179) float to us from the middle of some large, open field, and are among the most beautiful bits of bird music we ever hear. They are not to be represented by notes, and can only be most inadequately described. There is great variation in the sequence of notes, but all are beautifully clear and ringing, and have a decided tinge of what would be sadness if it were not so sweet. The bird flies in a very characteristic manner, never raising the wings above the plane of the back, and when seen below the horizon line always shows the white feathers in the tail. His saffron breast and black breast-mark seldom show on the living birds, and the mottled brown back is a wonderful safeguard against his many overhead enemies.

* * * * *

Two or more doves may be seen winging their headlong flight through the air. These are among the swiftest of birds, and are generally out of eyeshot almost before you have seen them. (That is one way of knowing what they are.) In flight, they look like small pigeons with very long graduated tails, and when, in some old orchard or open wood, you see one rise from the ground into a tree, the white lateral feathers in the tail make an easily recognizable mark. (Fig. 180.) Their cooing notes are well known--a high-pitched "overtone," followed by several long bell-toned "[(ooooo],--[(ooooo]," notes.

* * * * *

About April 1 to 10, you may hear a scratching in the dead leaves among the underbrush in any thickly grown tangle, and upon cautiously coming up you may discover the authors--not big grouse as you may have supposed, but a flock of fine, vigorous fox-sparrows on their way to their northern breeding grounds. They are bright bay fellows, with boldly blotched brown and white breasts, diligently scattering the leaves for their food of seeds, spiders, ants, and various insects. If you have been fortunate enough not to have been seen you may hear their song, which is one of the finest of our sparrow songs, readily recognizable as such, though not resembling any of its fellows--a clear, vigorous carol, often ending abruptly with a rather unmusical "clip." If, however, they have seen you, you will be treated to a sharp "tseep!" and a rear view of a flock of rapidly retreating birds, for they are not sociable (with us, at least), and generally take a hint to move on before you know of their presence. They do not stay long with us on their migration, and seeing them one day is no indication that you can find them the next.

* * * * *

Although the white-throated sparrows spend the winter in our southern counties, they do not start their northward journey as early as we might expect, and it is not until the first part of April that we may be sure of finding them. I have one list, indeed that shows their first appearance on May first!

They are to be found in places similar to those which the fox-sparrows choose, and are very similar to them in habits, but the boldly striped head and gray breast are very distinctive marks. Almost all of our native sparrows have a call note, the "tsweep" note, which is hard to distinguish in the different species without much patient listening--and I doubt if any person is infallible in this distinction. The white-throat has this note, as well as the song-sparrow, tree-sparrow (a winter-bird), fox-sparrow, white-crown, chippy, field-sparrow, grass-finch, in fact all our brown-backed sparrows. But the song of the white-throat is his own, and may be heard frequently during his very leisurely journey through our state. His Canadian name, "Peabody bird" is descriptive of his notes, "-- _.., _.., _.." When a number get together and whistle, as if they were singing a round, it makes a very sweet concert.

* * * * *

One of the foremost birds in the spring movement is the grass-finch (vesper-sparrow or bay-winged bunting). It is to be found in open fields and along roadside fences, in company with meadow larks, and its sweet song may be heard almost any warm evening after the middle of April. Unlike most of our birds, this sparrow sings at its best late in the afternoon and during twilight, which perhaps makes its song seem the sweeter. It is rather a gentle song, though to be heard at some distance, carrying quite as far as that of the song-sparrow. Although the quality of voice is somewhat similar in these two birds, the grass-finch lacks the merry abandon that characterizes the song-sparrow's song, but has instead a deeper chord, which is called by some people sadness. The bird may be easily recognized in the fields by the white tail-feathers, which always show in flight. It is about the size and general color of the song-sparrow.

* * * * *

By the time the foregoing birds are comparatively common, and the maple buds are bursting and the lilacs swelling, the gay purple finch appears. He is not purple at all, but has a crimson head, which fades on the lower breast through rosy pink into pure white. He is fond of spruces and larches, feeding greedily on the tender buds as well as on the ants and scale insects that infest them. His song is a fine one, and in addition to the charm of being poured forth in full flight, is so long and intricate that one finds himself holding his breath as the burst of melody continues, as if to help the little fellow catch up with his music.

* * * * *

Along the banks of some lake or stream, sitting idly on a telegraph pole or wire, rising and settling, elevating and depressing his long parted top-knot, a patriarchal old kingfisher may be seen silently awaiting the gleam of a shiner in the water below (Fig. 182). Or perhaps you may first see him flying like a big woodpecker, screaming his chattering cry high in the air, or scaling close to the water under the fringing hemlock branches that overhang the stream. His large size, slate-blue back, loud notes, and characteristic flight make him a hard bird to mistake in any case.

* * * * *

There are many other birds which pass us on their way north, but they herald rather the summer than the breaking of spring. The following list of spring migrations is taken from Mr. Chapman's "Handbook of the Birds of Eastern North America," and was compiled for use about New York City. The dates nearly coincide with those I have found about the central part of the State, and are, in the main, only a few days in advance of those for the northern counties. The latter dates in the column are about what may be taken for the middle tier of counties.

It is the earnest hope of the writer that these few very brief sketches may be of use to those interested in entering the delightful field of the study of birds; your experience may and probably will be different from that which I have cited, which only goes to show that everyone must really see for himself, and not only that, but by so doing may make new observations and get new ideas on practically all of even our best known birds. Birds are not, as a rule, hard to watch, and the patience it requires to sit still and "be a stump" long enough for birds to cease noticing you is soon and amply repaid by the new insight into an unknown realm which is sure to follow.

LIST OF BIRDS COMPRISING THE SPRING MIGRATION.

(Until April 20--Approximate.)

(_Taken from Chapman's Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America._)

Date of arrival.

Feb. 15-Mar. 10. Purple Grackle.
Rusty Grackle.
Red-winged Blackbird.
Robin.
Bluebird.

Mar. 10-20 Woodcock.
Phoebe.
Meadow Lark.
Cowbird.
Fox-sparrow.

Mar. 20-31 Wilson's Snipe.
Kingfisher.
Mourning Dove.
Swamp-sparrow.
Field-sparrow.

April 1-10 Great Blue Heron.
Purple Finch.
Vesper-sparrow.
Savanna-sparrow.
Chipping-sparrow.
Tree Swallow.
Myrtle Warbler.
American Pipit.
Hermit Thrush.

April 10-20 Yellow-bellied Woodpecker.
Barn Swallow.
Yellow Palm Warbler.
Pine Warbler.
Louisiana Water Thrush.
Ruby-crowned Kinglet.

LEAFLET XXIV.

THE WOODPECKERS.[31]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[31] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. IV, No. 30, March, 1903.

It is best to follow some definite line of bird study for an entire year. All of the observations that could be made in a single month on any bird would give but an inadequate idea of its habits. To know the life of a bird, one must study it month by month for at least one year.

The woodpeckers seem a most attractive group for our study. They are not only very interesting, but of great importance to the farmer, orchadist and forester. There are five common species in New York State that we all may learn to know, and then make observations of our own on their habits. These species are the downy, the hairy, the sapsucker, the flicker and the redhead. The way to begin our observations in winter is to tie a piece of suet to the branch of some tree easily observed from our windows. Such a bird feast as this is on a branch of a chestnut oak in front of my office window, and though I never have time to watch more than momentarily the birds that come there to eat, yet each glance tells me something of their ways, and my own day's work is much brighter and happier therefor. The "downy" (Fig. 183), as he is universally called, comes with his mate every day and they eat greedily of the suet; when they first arrive they are so absorbed in working this food mine that I sometimes stand directly beneath and watch them without frightening them. Perhaps they know that I am the friend who invited them to breakfast. Anyway, as soon as they leave the suet they hunt industriously over my tree, finding there all of the hidden insects, and thus they keep my oak clean and pay for their breakfast. Occasionally the hairy woodpecker comes, a self-invited guest to the suet banquet. To the untrained eye he looks very like an over-grown downy, as he is by two or three inches the longer; but his outer tail feathers are entirely white, while the downy's are barred with black; usually the red cap of the hairy is divided by a black stripe. The hairy is said to be a shy bird, but I have seen him several times this winter at a suet party near dwellings.

In April there is likely to appear in any region of New York State a bird which is often mistaken for the downy or hairy, although it is very different in both coloring and habits. This is the sapsucker, the only woodpecker of bad repute (Fig. 184). However, I am sure its deeds are not nearly so black as they are painted. The male sapsucker has a bright red crown and chin and throat, his breast is yellow, and he is also yellowish on the back; while the males of the downy and hairy are red-capped and black and white with no yellow.

QUESTIONS ON WOODPECKERS TO BE ANSWERED IN MARCH.

1. What is the difference in appearance between the male and female downy?

2. How does the downy travel down a tree; does it go head-first? What food have you seen it eat?

3. How does the downy use its tail in going up and down the tree trunk?

4. Have you approached a woodpecker closely enough to see how its toes are arranged? If so, describe them.

5. How does it manage its head to make its blows forceful?

6. Are you able to discriminate between the hairy and the downy when you see them? How?

7. Do you know the difference in the notes of the hairy and downy? Explain.

DOWNY, SAPSUCKER AND RED-HEAD.[32]

[32] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. IV, No. 31, April, 1903.

This morning I was awakened by the beating of a drum over in the woods. My ear was not yet sufficiently trained so that I knew whether my drummer was Mr. Downy or Mr. Hairy, yet I strongly suspected the former. The tattoo of the Sapsucker (which does not nest here) James Whitcomb Riley has aptly characterized as "Weeding out the lonesomeness." This is exactly what the drumming of woodpeckers in the early spring means. The male selects some dried limb of hard wood and there beats out his well-known signal which advertises far and near, "Wanted, a wife." And after he wins her he keeps on drumming to cheer her, while she is busy with her family cares. The woodpecker has no voice for singing, like the robin or thrush, and realizing his deficiency, he does not insist on singing like the peacock, whether he can or no. He chooses rather to devote his voice to terse and business-like conversation, and when he is musically inclined he turns drummer. He is rather particular about his instrument, and, having found one that pleases him in tone, returns to it day after day.

In case the drumming I heard this morning was an advertisement for a wife, I am interested to know what has become of Mrs. Downy, who has been true to her mate all winter. Does, perhaps, the springtime bring divorce as well as marriage? Mr. Burroughs tells of a downy that was absolutely brutal in his treatment of his mate in winter, not allowing her to live in his neighborhood. Be this as it may, the downy and the hairy woodpeckers that have feasted upon my suet this winter have invariably come in pairs, and while only one at a time sits at meat, and the lord and master is somewhat "bossy," yet they seem to get along as well as most married pairs.

The sapsucker is a woodpecker that has strayed from the paths of virtue; he has fallen into temptation by the wayside, and instead of drilling a hole for the sake of the grub at the end of it he drills it for its own sake. He is a tippler and sap is his beverage. He is especially fond of the sap of the mountain ash, apple, thorn apple, canoe birch, red maple, red oak and white ash. He drills his holes in beautiful rows, and sometimes girdles a limb or tree, and for this he is pronounced a rascal by men who have themselves ruthlessly cut from our land millions of trees that should now be standing. However, the sapsucker does not live solely on sap and the soft cambium layer of the tree; he also feeds on insects wherever he finds them. When feeding their young, sapsuckers are true flycatchers, getting the insects while on the wing. If you find a sapsucker girdling a tree in your orchard or a birch on your lawn, just protect the trees with a wire netting, and let the sapsucker catch mosquitoes for you instead, and remember that he belongs to a good family and is entitled to some consideration, even if he has taken to drink.

The red-head (Fig. 185) is well named, for his helmet and visor show a vivid, glowing crimson that stirs the sensibilities of the color lover. He is readily distinguished from all other woodpeckers because his entire head and the bib under his chin are red. For the rest, he is a beautiful dark metallic blue and white. He is a most adept drummer, and his roll is a long one. One that I observed last spring selected a dead limb at the top of an oak tree and there he drummed merrily every morning. He is an adaptable fellow and has been known to drum on tin roofs and lightning rods, thus braving the dangers of civilization for the sake of better music. Though he can rattle so well when he is musically inclined, he is not, after all, much of a woodpecker, for he lives mostly on insects which he catches while they are crawling or on the wing, and he also likes nuts. He is especially fond of beech nuts, and, being a thrifty fellow as well as musical, in time of plenty he stores up food against time of need. He places his nuts in crevices and forks of branches, in holes in trees, and other hiding places. Lets us watch him this spring and see whether we can discover what he eats.

QUESTIONS ABOUT WOODPECKERS TO BE ANSWERED IN APRIL AND MAY.

1. Have you observed any species of woodpecker drumming?

2. Have you been able to see the drum? If so, describe it.

3. Are you able to distinguish between the tapping of the woodpecker when searching for food, and his drumming when he is making music?

4. If you have made any observations on the sapsucker, please give them.

5. Have you seen the sapsucker at work? If so, did the holes girdle the tree? Were the holes round or square?

6. Have you seen the red-head this spring?

7. Describe the way the woodpecker uses its tail when climbing a tree.

8. Send for Bulletin No. 7, of the United States Department of Agriculture, Division of Ornithology, called "Food of Woodpeckers." Read this Bulletin and answer these questions: Does the sapsucker do more harm than good? What special benefit to us is the red-head? Which is the most useful of our woodpeckers?

THE FLICKER OR YELLOW HAMMER.[33]

[33] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. IV, No. 32, May, 1903.

The first time I ever saw a flicker I said, "What a wonderful meadow lark, and what is it doing on that ant hill?" But another glance revealed to me a red spot on the back of the bird's neck, and as soon as I was sure that this was not a bloody gash I knew it belonged to no meadow lark. The golden brown plumage dotted with black, the under wings of luminous yellow, the white spot above the tail, the ashen gray back, and, above all, the oriental ornaments of crescents,--one brilliant red across the back of the neck, one black across the breast,--all conduce to make the flicker one of our most showy and beautiful birds. The flicker has many names, such as golden-winged woodpecker, yellow hammer, highhole, and yarup or wake-up, and many others. It earned the name of highhole because of its way of excavating its nest high up in trees, usually between ten and twenty-five feet from the ground. It especially loves an old apple tree as a site for a nest, and most of our large, old orchards of New York State may boast of a pair of these handsome birds during the nesting season of May and June. However, the flicker is not above renting any house he finds vacant which was made by other birds last year. The flicker earned his name of "yarup" or "wake-up" from his spring song, which is a rollicking jolly "wick-a-wick-a-wick." As a business bird the flicker shines in the rather extraordinary line of eating ants. It has a tongue equipped almost exactly like the tongue of the animal called the ant eater, and it often may be seen using it with great effectiveness in catching the little communal laborers.

Those who have observed the flicker during the courting season declare him to be the most silly and vain of all the bird wooers. Mr. Baskett says, "When he wishes to charm his sweet-heart he mounts a very small twig near her, and lifts his wings, spreads his tail, and begins to nod right and left as he exhibits his mustache to his charmer, and sets his jet locket first on one side of the twig and then the other. He may even go so far as to turn his head half around to show her the pretty spot on his 'back hair.' In doing all this he performs the most ludicrous antics, and has the silliest of expressions of face and voice as if in losing his heart, as some one phrases it, he had lost his head also."

SUMMARY OF THE STUDY OF WOODPECKERS.

We have now studied our five species of woodpeckers common in New York State, and I trust that you know them all by sight. When you are teaching the children about the woodpecker, there are many interesting stories to tell about the way that his form is adapted to his life. Some of these stories are as follows: First. The woodpecker's bill, which is a drill and chisel, and how he uses it for getting at the grub or the borer in the wood, and for making the hole for the nest, and for drumming when he feels musical. Second. The tongue, which is a barbed spear, and has a wonderful spring attachment of bones which allows it to be thrust far out. This tongue is fitted in each case to get the kind of food which sustains its owner. Third. The feet have a special arrangement of toes which allows the bird to cling tenaciously to a tree trunk. Study the way the fourth toe, which may be compared to our little finger, has been moved around backward so that it acts as another thumb. Fourth. Study how the tail made of stiff feathers is particularly adapted to act as a brace, helping the bird to climb a tree. In studying all these things I would especially recommend you to a little book called, "The Woodpeckers" by Fannie Hardy Eckstrom, published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., price $1.00.

QUESTIONS ON THE FLICKER.

1. Have you ever seen a flicker?

2. Do you know its song?

3. Has the flicker a straight bill like the downy's?

4. What are the differences between the male and female flicker?

5. Have you ever seen a flicker catching ants? Describe.

6. Do you think the flicker is a beneficial bird? If so, why?

7. Have you ever seen a flicker's nest? Describe.

8. Do you know how the flicker feeds its young? Explain.

9. Describe the difference in color between the male and female of the (a) downy, (b) the hairy, (c) the redhead, (d) the sapsucker, (e) and the flicker.

10. How can you tell the difference between a flicker and a meadow lark during flight?

LEAFLET XXV.

THE CHICKADEE.[34]

[34] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 3, December, 1903.

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

_He is the hero of the woods; there are courage and good nature
enough in that compact little body, which you may hide in your
fist, to supply a whole groveful of May songsters. He has the
Spartan virtue of an eagle, the cheerfulness of a thrush, the
nimbleness of Cock Sparrow, the endurance of the seabirds
condensed into his tiny frame, and there have been added a
pertness and ingenuity all his own. His curiosity is immense, and
his audacity equal to it; I have even had one alight upon the
barrel of the gun over my shoulder as I sat quietly under his
tree._--ERNEST INGERSOLL.

However careless we may be of our friends when we are in the midst of the luxurious life of summer, even the most careless among us give pleased attention to the birds that bravely endure with us the rigors of winter. And when this winged companion of winter proves to be the most fascinating little ball of feathers ever created, constantly overflowing with cheerful song, our pleased attention changes to active delight. Thus it is that in all the lands of snowy winters the chickadee is a loved comrade of the country wayfarer; that happy song, "chick-a-dee-dee-dee," finds its way to the dullest consciousness and the most callous heart.

One day in February we were, with much enjoyment, wading through a drifted highway that skirted a forest, the least twig of which bore a burden of soft snow. Over all hung that silence of winter which is the most "silent silence" that rests upon the earth anywhere outside the desert. No breeze swayed a creaking branch or shook from it the snow in soft thud to the white carpet below. Even the song of the brook was smothered beneath coverlets of ice and pillows of drift. We stood fast, awed by the stillness, when suddenly it was broken by the thrilling notes of the chickadees. We could hardly credit our senses, for it seemed as if the woods was a hopeless place for any living creature that morning. But there before our eyes was a flock of these courageous birds hunting for food on the leeward sides of boles and branches left bare and black in the recent storm. Their tiny weights sent the snow in showers from the terminal twigs, which phenomenon was greeted with triumphant song while the cheerful midgets hunted the relieved branches topside and bottomside for any lurking tidbit. As we watched them, Emerson's poem came to mind:

"Piped a tiny voice near by,
Gay and polite, a cheerful cry--
Chick-chickadeedee! saucy note
Out of sound heart and merry throat,
As if it said, 'Good-day, good Sir!
Fine afternoon, old passenger!
Happy to meet you in these places
Where January brings few faces.'"

No wonder that the great American philosopher was attracted by this other American philosopher who sings when he is cold and hungry.

Besides its usual song the chickadee has a song that says "phoebe" much more distinctly than does the song of the phoebe itself. Few people recognize this, and often in February or early March it is announced in the local newspaper, "The phoebe-birds were heard to-day" though it may be weeks yet before these birds arrive. The two songs may be easily distinguished by even the ear untrained to music. In the phoebe song of the chickadee, the last syllable is at least one note lower than the first and has a falling inflection; while the last syllable of the phoebe bird's song is at least a half note higher than the first and has a rising inflection.

Not long since I visited the deserted nest of a devoted pair of chickadees. It was cuddled down in the bottom of a hole that opened on the very top of a fence post, and, one would imagine, must have been wet more than once while inhabited. However, a large family was raised there during the past season and much enjoyment was derived from watching the many fubsy birdlings that found home and comfort in that unattractive retreat. I looked upon them with special interest, for I was sure they would visit the suet on my trees this winter and thus become friendly neighbors.

As soon as the trees are bare, nail or tie bits of suet to branches which may be observed from your windows. I know of no investment which pays such enormous dividends both to pleasure and pocket as do suet restaurants in orchards patronized by chickadees. Every child, at home or school, will be attracted by this experiment.

QUESTIONS ON THE CHICKADEE.

1. Describe the colors of the chickadee above; below; wings; tail; throat and head.

2. Describe the differences in coloring between the chickadee and the nuthatch.

3. What is the shape of the chickadee's beak and for what is it adapted?

4. Does it frequent the trunks of trees, or the twigs?

5. Describe its actions when hunting for food on a twig.

6. What is the chief food of the chickadee?

7. Why is it of special value to the farmer?

8. What are the differences in the winter and summer habits of the chickadee?

9. Do you know the "phoebe" note of the chickadee?

10. Where do these birds build their nests and of what material?

11. What are the colors and markings on the eggs?

12. When is the nesting season?

LEAFLET XXVI.

THE WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH.[35]

BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK.

[35] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 4, January, 1904.

The busy nuthatch climbs his tree,
Around the great bole spirally,
Peeping into wrinkles gray,
Under ruffled lichens gay,
Lazily piping one sharp note
From his silver mailèd throat.

--MAURICE THOMPSON.

"_With more artless inquisitiveness than fear, this lively little acrobat stops his hammering or hatching at your approach, and stretching himself out from the tree until it would seem he must fall off, he peers down at you, head downward, straight into your upturned opera-glass. If there is too much snow on the upper side of a branch watch how he runs along underneath it like a fly, busily tapping the bark, or adroitly breaking the decayed bits with his bill, as he stretches for the spider's eggs, larvæ, etc., hidden there; yet somehow, between mouthfuls, managing to call out his cherry quank! quank! hank! hank!_"

--NELTJE BLANCHAN.

A voice outside is calling at me; I cannot describe it accurately, but it is making delightful woodsy remarks that make me long to throw aside the pen and go out and wander where the snow is making still softer the carpet of dead leaves on the forest floor. It is not a musical note but it is most enticing and translates into sound the picture of bare-branched trees and the feeling of enchantment that permeates the forest in winter. Neltje Blanchan says the voice reiterates "quank, quank," others say it is "nay, nay"--but no nasal sound of the human voice, and no spelling of the English language adequately represent this call of the white-breasted nuthatch.

On the tree in front of the window I can see the owner of this sylvan voice. He is a little bird blue-gray above with black head and black and white V-trimmings on the back of his suit and with soft, white breast. He is flitting blithely from tree to tree enjoying the snow storm and coming often to the suet feast which I have spread for him and for his little feathered kin.