Chapter IX: Part 9

_Pandion haliætus_, as the Fish Hawk or Osprey is called in ornithological language, is found from the fur region surrounding Hudson’s Bay to Central America, and from Labrador to Florida, excepting Boston Harbor, on the Atlantic Coast, and almost from Alaska to the southern extremity of the peninsula of Lower California on the Pacific seaboard. Birds have been known to nest on the rocky islands of California, and about Sitka, according to Bischoff, as well as along the small streams in the vicinity of Nulato. From Long Island to Chesapeake they breed in vast communities, which often number several hundred pairs, but away from the sea-coast they are only occasionally met with on the margins of rivers and lakes. Dr. Hayden found several pairs nesting on the summit of high cottonwood trees in the Wind River Mountains, and Mr. Allen observed the birds particularly abundant about the lakes of the Upper St. John’s River in Florida, six nests being noticeable within a single circle of vision. Salvin claims that they nest on both coasts of Central America, but more especially about Balize, although on the islands of Trinidad, St. Croix, Jamaica and Cuba they are seen at all times except during the breeding-season.

Below Philadelphia, and in the south-eastern counties of Pennsylvania bordering on the Delaware, individuals have been occasionally observed. Their arrival is about the beginning of March, often when the streams which they frequent are fettered with icy bonds, and their departure occurs about the twenty-fifth of September, and frequently, especially when the weather is remarkably fine, as late as the fifteenth of October. Well-established communities, numbering more than fifty pairs, have been met within the swamps of Southern New Jersey, among whom the best order and most perfect harmony prevailed. Few species display less shyness and greater confidence, or are more eminently social, as is particularly shown when these birds take up their quarters in close proximity to occupied dwellings, or by the side of frequented by-paths and highways. Where undisturbed, the same localities are visited year after year. Their exclusive piscine habits secure for them free and unlimited sway in their carefully chosen abodes, for the poultry has nothing to fear, and the smaller birds are not intimidated by their presence and sent screaming to their coverts as they do even when pursued by the little sparrow hawk. Wilson cites a case where four nests of the common purple grackle were built within the interstices of an Osprey’s nest, and a fifth on an adjoining branch, and the Osprey was quite tolerant of such intrusion and freedom. The writer has observed a nest of the grackle built in a similar position, while all around the great Hawk’s home, and scarcely five rods distant, were nests of the robin, wood thrush, red-winged blackbird and others, and no annoyance was known to occur, the Ospreys carefully attending to their own business and scarcely noticing their more humble brethren.

Their bitterest enemy is the white-headed eagle, against whom the united attacks of many of these birds are concentrated when he has the audacity to venture within their hunting-grounds or breeding-quarters, for they are too familiar with his powerful muscularity and courageous disposition to attempt a single attack. When an Osprey is pursued by this king of the forest and hunting-ground, his loud, vociferous cries of distress, resounding far and near, evoke an army of defenders, who come with all possible speed to wreak vengeance upon the great arch-enemy of their pleasures and happiness. These attacks are made for the purpose of compelling the Osprey to drop his prey or disgorge, which the superior bird, if his efforts have been successful, pounces down upon and seizes before it has had time to reach the water or ground.

Manner of Securing Food for Young.]

Powerful as the flight of the Fish Hawk is, yet it is never very high, nor much protracted. While skimming over the water’s surface, even at a moderate elevation, his quick eye soon descries his quarry, and, in an instant, he pounces down with tremendous force below the water’s level, often to a great distance, but seldom missing his prey. Arising from his watery bath, he moves off to a suitable perch to digest his meal at leisure. But should the movement attract the keen vision of the bald eagle, who is generally waiting in some secret covert, or sailing so high up in the air as to be almost invisible, the Osprey swallows his victim if small, or seeks to bear it away in his talons to a position of shelter and safety, but, rather than endure the too near approach of his more powerful relative, drops it to the infinite delight and great satisfaction of the latter. Where a suitable tree, or a commanding stump, presents itself by the side of his chosen fishing-grounds, he may be seen perched thereon for hours together, gazing into the liquid depths below for the finny tribes that sport therein, and ever and anon swooping down with amazing velocity and bearing up in his resistless talons the squirming victim. In shallow places his mode of capture is regulated in conformity with their character, gliding over their surface and clutching at his victims as they come within sight.

The food of the Osprey consists mainly of fish, although the reptiles and batrachians that inhabit the swamps and marshes wherein he builds do not escape his vigilance. Almost all kinds of fish, except the very largest, which would be more than a match for his strength, are captured and devoured with avidity. We have watched with a great deal of interest and pleasure his piscatorial pursuits on the shores of Delaware Bay, and have often seen him bear from great depths fish much larger than the common shad. The latter, together with the herring, striped bass and black bass, are favorite articles of diet, while his catchings from fresh-water streams, the larger cyprinidonts, cat-fish and pumpkin-seed, are quite as great luxuries.

When the nesting-time comes around, the last of April or the beginning of May, these birds are not so engrossed with the thoughts of feeding as to be utterly oblivious of the duties which it imposes. Generally the same nest is selected year after year, but when a new one is to be constructed it is not uncommon to find many pairs engaged in its building, the friends of the destitute assembling and laboring with the most determined energy till its completion. A more sociable disposition could hardly be conceived. The spirit which would lead these birds to fly to the assistance of a distressed companion would certainly induce them to co-operate with their brethren in the difficult task of nest-building, especially when such a bulky structure as the species is known to construct would severely task both the time and patience of the pair which is to occupy it. The vast amount of labor and time expended in rearing such a fabric is a sufficient inducement for them not to want to indulge in such employment any more than is absolutely necessary. Hence these nests are constructed for durability. Unlike his European congener, whose nest is placed upon a high cliff, the Osprey almost invariably builds on trees. All nests taken by the writer have seldom been at a greater elevation than fifteen feet, although instances have been recorded where they were twice that height. It is a remarkable fact that the trees supporting these nests are always dead and generally placed in the midst of marshy ground, either completely isolated or surrounded by a dense growth of bushes. At all events, they occupy rather conspicuous positions. It is probable that the excrement of the birds or the saline character of their food has much to do with killing the nesting-trees. Trees which seem vigorous and thrifty at first manifest after a year’s occupancy unmistakable signs of death. Not always are trees selected for nesting purposes, for a Mr. W. H. Edwards describes a nest built on a tall cliff on the banks of the Hudson River, not very far from West Point.

Externally the nest is composed of large sticks piled to a height varying from two to five feet, and measuring fully three feet in diameter. Corn-stalks, mullein-stocks and bark are occasionally intermingled with the sticks, but within there is a rather profuse lining of sea-weed and the long grasses which grow so luxuriantly in salt-water marshes. The cavity ranges from fourteen to fifteen inches in diameter, and is unusually shallow in proportion to the size of the nest.

Three eggs constitute the usual nest-complement, although two are sometimes laid, and rarely four, and these are deposited on consecutive or alternate days, at the rate of one egg a day. They measure about two and one-half inches in length and one and three-fourths in width, and are of a yellowish-white color, thickly covered with large blotches of different shades of brown. Incubation follows close upon the last deposit, the task being begun by the female, and devolving principally upon her, although the male occasionally relieves her for a brief spell each day. While she is on the nest, he is a jealous husband and a most faithful provider. The choicest catch of his piscatorial exploits is carried directly to the nest and ungrudgingly administered to the patient sitter. When not engaged in providing for their wants he stations himself upon an adjoining tree, if such should happen to be present, or somewhere in the immediate neighborhood, and exercises the closest surveillance over the nest and its occupant. All attempts at intrusion are most summarily punished. Dr. Brewer mentions a case where a lad essayed to reach the nest in order to rob it of its eggs, when he was assailed with so much violence that the male’s talons were driven through a cloth cap that he wore and laid bare the scalp. Experience has proved the risk incurred in visiting these nests with hostile intentions. You may pass and repass underneath the nest, the authors criticising your every movement the while, without calling forth the slightest opposition. When, however, you attempt to mount the tree that contains their cherished treasures, you virtually invite the full measure of their wrath. That the male is affectionately devoted to his partner is shown by Wilson in a case which he cites of a female who was prevented from fishing by a broken leg and that was abundantly supplied with food by her mate.

When the young appear they are objects of more than common parental solicitude, the parents vying with each other in rendering them every needed attention and in providing them with a plentiful supply of suitable food. But one parent is absent from the nest at a time, the other remaining at home to guard against danger. They are ravenous feeders, and soon attain to full development, when they resemble very closely in dress their parents, having the upper parts spotted with pale reddish-brown or white. Adult birds are dark-brown or grayish-brown above, with most of the head, neck and under parts white, the chest in the female, and sometimes in the male, being spotted with brown. The tail, usually paler than the back, has six or seven dusky bars, and is tipped with white.

That these birds may be fitted for powerful flight they are provided with long and pointed wings, the second and third quills being the longest. They have a stout bill, with a very long hook and sharp end. Their feathers are oily to resist water, those of the head being lengthened and pointed, and of the thighs and a little of the front parts of the tarsi short and close together. The legs, tarsi and feet are very strong and robust, and the claws all of the same length and very large and sharp. Rough scales completely invest the tarsi, and the toes are padded below and covered with numerous hard-pointed projections to aid in holding their slippery prey. The iris in some specimens is reddish, but mostly yellow; the bill and claws blue-black, and the tarsi and toes grayish-blue. Male birds are not so large as the females, the latter measuring twenty-five inches in length, and with an extent of wings of fifty-two inches.

TURKEY BUZZARD.

Few species, if any, have a wider distribution in America than the Turkey Buzzard. It is found more or less abundantly to the Saskatchewan throughout North America, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Coast, and in all portions of South America as far south as the Strait of Magellan. Individuals have been met with in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, though these birds are generally not common north of Central New Jersey. From Eastern Maine, in the neighborhood of Calais, to Connecticut, specimens have occasionally been captured. In a single instance, Mr. Lawrence observed a small company of nine at Rockaway, Long Island. West of the Alleghenies, from Central America nearly to the Arctic regions, it occurs more abundantly. Without exception, it is found in greater or less numbers in all the Middle, Western, Southern and North-western States. From Lower California to Washington, along the Pacific, numerous parties attest to its common occurrence. The West Indies, the islands of Cuba, Jamaica and Trinidad, the last-named in particular, include it within their faunæ. Honduras and Guatemala, as well as the Falkland Islands, off the eastern coast of Patagonia, are permanent residing-places.

In Pennsylvania and New Jersey, where the writer has had abundant opportunities for studying the species, these Vultures summer quite plentifully. From their first appearance, in March, large numbers may be seen high up in the air, moving in large circles, apparently exploring the ground below for their favorite articles of food. In rural districts they are, however, more frequently observed than in the vicinity of densely-populated towns, the greater abundance of carrion to be met with in the former places doubtless being the cause of this preference. But in California and Oregon, according to Dr. Newberry, they are quite as common near towns as about the large rivers. In our Southern States they visit cities and large villages, and play the part of scavengers in company with the black vulture. They are said to be so tame and unsuspicious in Kingston, Jamaica, that they roost upon the house-tops or prey upon offal in the streets. In country places they are no less familiar and trustful, as is evidenced while feeding. So intent upon their business are they at this time that the presence of human beings is unnoticed, and even when forced to forsake their booty they sullenly repair to a short distance, only to resume their feeding when the annoyance has passed. The common crow has been observed to gather around the same food, and the utmost good-feeling prevailed. A small flock will often settle down upon a dead horse around which several dogs have gathered. The snapping and snarling of the dogs, when they approach them too closely, do not cause the Vultures to retire, but only to step a few paces aside, when, nothing daunted, they continue their feeding, apparently oblivious of their whereabouts and surroundings.

Although the sense of sight is rather keenly developed in these birds, yet that of smell is none the less so. This is an advantage, for both the visual and olfactory organs seem requisite in the determination of the presence of decaying animal matters. As a proof that smell leads to food-detection, Dr. Brewer cites an instance, on the authority of Dr. Hill, where several of these birds were attracted to the house of a German emigrant who was prostrated by fever, being drawn by the strong odor escaping from his neglected food which had become putrid. Mr. G. C. Taylor, whilst a resident of Kingston, sufficiently tested their power of smell. He wrapped the carcass of a bird in a piece of paper, and flung the parcel into the summit of a densely-leaved tree, that stood in close proximity to his window. A moment or two only elapsed, when the keen smell of these birds scented something edible, but they were unable to find it, obviously for the reason that it was hidden from view by the enveloping paper.

Generally their food consists of all kinds of animal matter. They are often accused of sucking eggs, and also of eating the young of herons, as well as those of other birds. In Trinidad, they are said to live on friendly terms with the poultry. As no breach of faith has been reported to have occurred in this instance, it is not likely that they would molest in any way our smaller birds, at least we are not cognizant of any such cases of interference from our own observation, nor do we find them in the recorded experiences of friends. They are worse-disposed, it seems to us, to their own kith. When several are feeding together, most violent wrangles occur over the booty. Each strives to get the lion’s share. It is amusing to witness their manœuvres. Some luckless fellow has just discovered a choice and racy bit, which he is endeavoring to make off with in a somewhat hurried manner, when instantly he is beset by a near companion, who has scarcely swallowed his own morsel. A conflict ensues. The latter, being the stronger, succeeds after a little in defrauding the other of his rightful property. When gorged, these birds are stupid and indisposed to exertion, the period of digestion ordinarily being passed in a motionless, listless attitude, with half-opened wings.

Recovered from their semi-stupid condition, they do not at once go to feeding again, but spend a long time in the healthful exercise of their volant appendages. Few birds are more graceful, easy and dignified while on the wing. On the ground they may seem awkward, but it is while soaring at a great height above the earth that they are seen in all their glory. When prepared for lofty flights, they spring from the ground with a single bound, and, after a few quick flappings of wings, move heavenward. Attaining a great elevation, they cleave the ether in ever-widening circles, or sail on nearly horizontal wings, the tips being slightly raised, with steady, uniform motion. These aerial diversions, for such they seem to be, are never performed singly, but in small parties of a dozen or more, being more common in early spring, and at the close of the breeding-season, than at any other time. It is to be observed further that these movements are executed in silence, the only sounds which the Buzzards are capable of producing being a kind of hiss, which has not inaptly been compared to the seething noise emitted by plunging a hot iron in a vessel of water.

When ready to breed these birds look about for a hollow tree, or some stump or log in a state of decay, either upon the ground, or slightly above it. Generally, there are no indications of a nest. In occasional instances a few rotten leaves, scratched into the hollow selected for the deposition of the eggs, constitute the nest, these treasures being laid without any previous care for their preservation and shelter being taken. In Southern New Jersey the nest has been inadvertently strayed upon in the midst of a deep and almost impenetrable morass, where it was found placed upon a hollow stump. Within the rocky caverns along the wide, shallow Susquehanna, as many as a dozen nests have been counted in a few hundred yards of space, often as early as the last week of March in favorable seasons, but generally not till the middle of April. When the winters are not extremely rigorous, a few individuals remain in the vicinity of their breeding-quarters throughout the entire year. We have found the birds breeding in Delaware County, Pa., towards the latter part of April or the beginning of May, but in Philadelphia they rarely do, if they breed at all. In Southern Ohio they are a common summer sojourner. Speaking of the birds in Jamaica, Mr. Gosse says they nest in depressions in the rocks and in the ledges thereof, in retired localities and also upon inaccessible cliffs. On Galveston Island Audubon found the birds nesting in great numbers, either under wide-spreading cactus branches or underneath low bushes in the midst of tall grasses in level saline marshes.

In the vicinity of Cheraw, S. C., Dr. C. Kollock met with the black vulture and our present species in swamps and dense forests, where they congregate in vast numbers throughout the entire year. These places are commonly designated Buzzards’ roosts. Audubon once visited one of these roosts in the vicinity of Charleston, which covered more than two acres of ground, and which was completely denuded of vegetation. On the banks of many of the rivers of Southern Texas, Mr. Dresser found them nesting in large numbers, the timber along their borders constituting comfortable and secure shelter; but, contrary to what has always been entertained, he affirms that they build large and bulky nests of sticks, which they place at great heights in an oak or cypress, close by the river-banks. Captain C. C. Abbott says that in the Falkland Islands the eggs are deposited in the midst of bushes beneath high banks, or on the summits of decayed balsam logs, during the early part of November. In certain localities, where the birds are not very common, paired individuals are not infrequently found.

Two eggs generally constitute a nest-full, although instances are known where but a single egg was deposited. On the Falkland Islands they are said to lay three occasionally. In the West Indies, especially in the Bahamas, the complement is the same as in the United States, and there does not seem to be any difference in the habits of the birds in the two places. Specimens from New Jersey, Texas, Florida and South Carolina are creamy-white in ground, and are variously marked with shades of brown, intermingled with splashes of lavender and purple, which are often so faint as to be perceptible only upon close examination. Brewer mentions a variety from near Cheraw, S. C., that was nearly pure white, and which showed but a few small red and slightly purplish lines and dots about the larger extremity. Recently we have met with some from Texas answering the same description. In dimensions these eggs vary but little, and have, on the average, a length of 2.78 inches, and a width of 2.00, or rather less.

_Cathartes aura_, as the Turkey Buzzard is known by the scientific naturalist, is far from being demonstrative in the expression of her feelings. When her home is assailed, she makes no ado, but quietly slips out, and seemingly contemplates its desecration with indifference.

Though manifesting a passive disposition in the face of human interference, yet she is not always the gentle being she would have us believe, as shown by the spirit of dominancy she displays over her own household.

Unlike many of her neighbors, she does not entirely assume the responsibilities of brood-raising, permitting her partner the happy enjoyment of a life of luxurious ease, but, believing in the doctrine of a proper division of labor, forces upon him his share of the work.

Whilst she thus appears unduly exacting towards him, she is equally so to her offspring. Few mothers know better than she the right training of their children, so as to fit them to become useful and respectable members of society.

This is no figment of the imagination, as will presently be seen. It was while exploring a section of Delaware County of this State for minerals in the summer of 1894 that some interesting facts were learned of the relation subsisting between her and the rest of her family.

Having accidentally strayed upon a young ground hog which had but recently been killed, the writer resolved to carry it home and place it where it could be seen or scented by the Buzzards, so that he might have an opportunity of making a more intimate acquaintance with these birds than he had ever before been able to make.

Accordingly the dead animal was transported to a meadow overlooked by the house he was occupying. The resolution was well taken, for on the fourth day after the deposit had been made several Buzzards were seen circling high overhead, mere specks against the blue dome of the sky, evidently scanning the earth beneath with their telescopic vision for the presence of food, or endeavoring to scent it with their keen sense of smell.

Nearer and nearer the flock drew earthward, till finally, a full hour being spent in graceful manœuvring, the birds settled down upon the green-carpeted meadow, but a few yards from the carrion that lay festering with vermin.

Their feathers adjusted, and folded to rest their wide-spreading pinions, the young, in obedience to orders, as it seemed, leaped on to a huge pine log that lay near by, while the old folks surveyed, wistfully and long, from their standpoint of observation on the ground, the odorous carrion a few feet away, as if whetting their appetites for the feast they were soon to enjoy.

With a few quick steps, that were meant to be graceful, the female drew near, but the male lingered doubtingly behind. In a trice she was busy at work, tearing with claw and with bill the daintiest morsels. Rendered mad by the smell of the food the male, no longer seeming backward, pressed forward to her side, but only to retreat before her savage assaults. Again he essayed the attempt, and was beaten back as he had been before. Convinced that further effort would be useless, he strode sulkily to a distance, where, in moody contemplation, he nervously awaited her ladyship’s sweet pleasure.

Being filled to the full the female now moved lazily away to a clean patch of grass, where she immediately set to work to arranging her toilet,--wiping her bill and her claws upon the green carpet before her, craning her neck and stretching her pinions, yawning and gaping and gaping and yawning,--and finally ending all by seeking the topmost rail of a near-by fence for rest and composure.

With nothing to fear, the male now stalked complacently forward, and was soon hard at work at what was left of the carcass. His appetite less capacious than that of his lady, his dinner was soon over, and off strode he too to a fresh spot of grass, where he went through the same process of wiping his mouth and stretching and yawning, which, being finished, he mounted the rail by the side of his mistress.

Male and Young Awaiting Her Ladyship’s Pleasure.]

More interesting far than either the parents were the three black creatures that stood upon the pine log. Fixed to the spot as though they had grown there, with scarcely moving heads and downcast eyes they eagerly watched the food disappearing, wondering, mayhap, as children are prone to do, if it would all disappear before they had a chance of testing its virtues, but maintaining their souls the while in perfect serenity of repose. But their time had at length arrived, and down from the log they cast themselves _instanter_, three lusty fellows as large as the parents, but one of them, from his limping gait, proving to be lame. Great consideration was shown the disabled one by the others, who permitted him to feed first, while they stood aside until he had satisfied his hunger, when, without the least bit of ceremony, or the least indication of ill-nature or selfishness, they too set to work, finishing in quick order whatever edible was left of the dead animal. Their actions after feeding were exactly the counterpart of those of the parents. Having finished their toilet, the three sought the rail by the side of the father, where, like their illustrious heads, they were soon occupied with the most self-satisfying thoughts, utterly oblivious, as it seemed, of time and surroundings.

More than an hour was thus spent in drowsy meditation, when, as by common consent, they all, one after the other, leaped to the ground, where they busied themselves preening their feathers and preparing for departure. The time being ripe, the female set the example. With a run of a half-dozen yards to gain a good start, she was soon on the wing, and in fifteen minutes or more was lost in the ether. The male followed suit, and when he had vanished from sight, the young, one after another, mounted the atmosphere, and gradually circling their way through its limitless depths, were also soon lost to the earth-chained beholder.

Concluding this brief chapter of bird-history, we have a few brief comments to make. To the uninitiated in science matters, the statements just made must seem well nigh incredible. But there were other witnesses of the facts, just and reliable observers, too, whose testimony could be appealed to, to settle all doubts of their authenticity. From all that has been said, it cannot but be evident that the female was the acknowledged head of the family, a sort of feathered autocrat, whose will was the law by which the family was governed. Even the male, who did not always respect her authority, especially where her interests conflicted with his own, was made to see that might makes right when confronted with her stronger and more powerful nature. But it was the patience and orderly behavior that characterized the nearly-grown young, and their sweetness and gentleness of disposition under the most trying circumstances as well, that impressed us as extremely wonderful, and led to the opinion that man-born offspring might here learn a lesson of filial obedience and respect that would greatly redound to the honor and glory of the race.

When captured, these birds offer no active resistance, but very effectually warn off their aggressor by vomiting up the half-putrid contents of their crop. They will often simulate death at such times. On one occasion an individual having been shot by Dr. Coues was picked up for dead. While being carried to the Doctor’s tent, it was perfectly limp. On reaching his quarters, he carelessly threw it upon the ground, and went to work at something else. After a little, upon looking around, he beheld to his great surprise that the bird had changed position, and was furtively glancing around. On going up to it, its eyes instantly closed, its body became relaxed, and it lay perfectly motionless, and apparently lifeless. After compressing its chest for several minutes until he fancied life extinct, he dropped the bird and repaired to supper. Upon his return the bird was gone, it evidently having scrambled into the bushes as soon as he had turned his back upon it.

The young, when first hatched, are covered with a whitish down, and are fed upon half-digested matter which is disgorged by their parents. When taken from the nest and kept in captivity until fully grown they become exceedingly tame, and will feed on fresh meat, earthworms, crickets, grasshoppers, and other large insects, which they apparently relish, and oftentimes will also eat bits of bread, cake and particles of apples or pears which are thrown before them. The benefits which these scavengers render are too well known to need any comment. In the mature state the plumage of the Buzzard is brownish-black, and more or less glossy, the quills being paler on the under surface. The skin of the head and neck is red and wrinkled, and with scattering bristle-like feathers, the bill whitish, legs and feet pinkish, iris grayish-brown, and nostrils large and oval. Their length is about thirty inches, extent of wing seventy-two inches, wing being about twenty-five, and tail twelve.

RARE AND CURIOUS NESTS.

From time immemorial it has been the current popular belief that birds of the same species never varied their style of architecture, but constructed the same form of nest, and out of the same materials, as their remotest progenitors did, instinct being the principle by which they were guided. This opinion, though long since exploded by scientific research, is still, I am sorry to say, entertained by persons who should know better. An examination of nests from different and widely-separated localities affords evidence of the most convincing character of its erroneousness. Most marked differences will always be found to exist in composing materials, as these are sure to vary with environment, and in a wider degree in the nests of some than in those of other species; even configuration, which is less prone to change, is often influenced by circumstances of position and latitude.

Among the Thrushes, the nest of the Robin is the most addicted to variation, and this is not wholly restricted to the constituents of its usually mud-plastered domicile, but is quite frequently observed to occur in the arrangement of materials, and in contour and position as well. Where low marshy woods abound on the outskirts of towns and villages, as is the case in Southern New Jersey, nests of this species have been taken that contrasted in a most wonderful manner with those one is accustomed to see in more northern localities. The great masses of grayish-green fibrous lichen, which depend from shrub and tree in sylvan marshes, are most freely used, and from its very nature to mat when pressed together all necessity for mud is precluded.

Built Upon a Railroad Cutting.]

But the most curious nest I have ever met with was built upon a railroad cutting, where the ground had a slope of more than forty-five degrees. Such a position for a dwelling of the kind the Robin is known to build, to one not conversant with the facts, must appear incredible. But that it was accomplished, the nest itself was the monument of the builders’ thoughtful skill and labor. A semicircular wall of mud, eight inches in diameter and five inches in height, constituted the groundwork, and within the cavity thus formed was reared a coarse, substantial, bulky fabric, that was entirely composed of the stems of grasses, leaves and roots, loaded down and held in place by pellets of mud.

NEST FROM THE TOP.

SECTION OF TWO-STORIED NEST.

RED-EYED VIREO’S TWO-STORIED NEST WITH COW-BIRD’S EGG BENEATH]

A more remarkable position, and one that seemed as difficult to manage, I shall now relate. Few birds care so little for position as the common House Wren. Almost any place answers its purpose. Near the little town of Thornbury, in the State of Pennsylvania, a pair of these birds, in the summer of 1882, took possession of a derrick, and, as a site for a home, selected the space over a sheave in one of the stationary blocks, where, in due time, was deposited their rude, yet comfortable, nest of sticks and feathers. A similar structure occupied the spot the previous year, and a brood of eight birds was raised. It was not the elements of composition of these nests that excited interest and surprise, for they are not materially different from the usual form, but the strange, anomalous situation which they occupied. So dexterously were the materials arranged within the space that the revolution of the wheel was not in the least interfered with. The nest was approached on the side facing the rope that moved the pulley. The opposite side could have been used for this purpose, and doubtless with less danger to life or limb, but preference seemed to be shown for the other. Why this was so was for some time a mystery. But when the birds were seen to alight upon the rope at the top of the derrick and ride down to the nest, the explanation at once became apparent.

Never did linnet enjoy the rocking twig, or bobolink the swaying cat-tail, with half the zest than did these eccentric creatures their ride down the rope. A hundred times a day, when necessity arose, they treated themselves to the pleasure, the rope all the while moving at the rate of thirty feet in a second. Six of the seven days, from early morn till night, they availed themselves of this strange conveyance, and never a danger occurred to mar their delight. In due time a family of happy, rollicking children was raised, and the nest on the derrick deserted.

More beautiful are the nests which the Red-winged Blackbirds build. These are the birds that affect our swamps and marshes, and make the air ring with their loud, clear, resonant notes. Before me is a nest that surpasses in beauty the average structure. It is a bulky affair for the species, but so symmetrical in contour, and so quaintly, deftly woven, that the eye never tires in looking at it, nor the mind in contemplating its wonderful mechanism. Broad ribbons of grasses are its composing materials, and eight of them are so woven into the nest as to securely fasten it to the tall typhas in the summit of which it was placed.

Located in a Field of Timothy.]

But a more clever nest of these birds, and one that is as unique in shape as it is in texture and composition, was found in the summer of 1879 in the vicinity of Philadelphia. It was built in a field of timothy, many of the stalks of which being wrought into the fabric. Its shape is that of an inverted cone, and so beautifully, symmetrically and compactly put together is it, that one could hardly credit the builders with the possession of the skill necessary to the production of so perfect a domicile. Externally the nest is formed of grasses and rushes, neatly and intricately interwoven, with here and there a head of the dry pappus of some species of hawkweed. Sedges and fine grasses make for it a cosy and comfortable lining. This nest shows quite conspicuously in the drawing, but in its natural position, in the centre of a large field, the authors had spared no pains to have its concealment as perfect as possible.

Typical nests of these Blackbirds are somewhat irregular in outline, and rather coarsely and rudely built of stubble and broad grasses, variously intermingled, and lined with soft meadow grass. Usually they are placed in clusters of weeds or in the tops of small bushes alongside of streams of water. High positions are seldom chosen for nesting purposes, as they offer poor facilities for food-collecting, the aquatic larvæ, may-flies, dragon-flies and mosquitos, which constitute a prominent part of the diet of these birds, being only found in marshy situations. Small bushes along the margins of streams, from the double advantage which they possess, are almost exclusively adopted in certain localities. Being convenient to appropriate food-stuffs, they are, at the same time, out of the reach of snakes, especially water-snakes, which have a decided fondness for young birds.

Of the sub-family of Orioles, to which the Red-wing belongs, no member, unless it be the namesake of Maryland’s distinguished proprietor, builds a more magnificent nest than the one that inhabits the orchard. In the books it is known by the no means euphonious title of _Icterus spurius_. Its nest is shaped like a pouch, and generally pensile. Soft, flexible meadow grasses, neatly and compactly woven together, make up the outer fabric, while within is a lining of vegetal or animal wool, or one of fine grasses intermingled with horse-hair. But the handsomest ever seen was one that was found in the vicinity of Nazareth, Pa., by Richard Christ, in the summer of 1883. It is of the usual size, five inches in height, three in external diameter, but differing from the normal form only in materials of composition. The proverbial meadow grasses are absent, and in lieu thereof are the headed stems of such as grow by the roadside, notably conspicuous for their golden brightness in a state of desiccation.

Female Sitting, Male Standing Guard.]

More noteworthy, however, than the Nazareth nest, is one that was removed from a silver maple-tree. It is a double structure, composed of long, flexible grasses, and is firmly bound by the same to several small, slender branches. The larger nest, inversely sub-conical, is joined to the smaller, somewhat similarly shaped, but less compact in structure, by ribbons of the same kind of grass that composes the nest. A circular opening, one inch in diameter, is a noticeable feature of the smaller. That the additional structure served some useful purpose there can be no doubt. I am inclined to believe that it was built for the accommodation of either parent while the other was sitting. The aperture was a convenient outlook for the non-sitting bird, who, from this position, could with little difficulty, like a sentinel from an outpost, detect the approach of an enemy.

But nothing can exceed in beauty and skill the nest of a female Baltimore Oriole in the writer’s possession. It was built under peculiar circumstances, the builder being a prisoner, having been taken from home when quite a fledgling. A male companion was brought away at the same time. These birds, the property of Dr. Detwiler, of Easton, Pa., in 1883, were a source of considerable pleasure to that elderly gentleman in his leisure moments. Under his careful, kindly management, they became quite tame, the female manifesting greater familiarity than the male. That either would become so accustomed to confinement as to evince a desire to build never entered the mind of the Doctor. They had, when he was alone, the freedom of his studio. One lovely June morning, the outside world brimming over with life and joy and sunshine, the door of their cage was thrown open, and the Doctor settled himself into a soft easy-chair to read. Hardly had he scanned a dozen lines, when something pulling at his hair caused him to drop his paper and look around. He was not slow to detect the offender in the person of his female feathered friend who was seen flying towards the most distant corner of the room with something, resembling hair, in her bill. The reading was resumed, and again the culprit stole cautiously to where he was sitting, and, seizing another hair, was off in a twinkling.

Nest the Exclusive Work of Her Bill.]

Permitting for a while these liberties, and noticing that bits of strings were, when placed in positions to be seen, quite as much the objects of interest as the hairs of his head, the Doctor was not slow in divining the motive which led to this strange and unexpected behavior. Convinced by actions, as significant as words themselves could be, that his little friend was desirous to build a home, he began to cast about for a corner where she could be free to carry out her intentions without fear or interference. The attic furnished the place, and after fitting it up with a large tree-branch for a perch, and plenty of new white strings for building purposes, he bore his favorite and her partner to their new quarters. Soon the female became at home and entered into her voluntarily-imposed labor with alacrity, and at the end of a week had constructed a domicile which her untamed prototypes of field and roadside would strive in vain to excel. But the male would have nothing at all to do with the matter, but remained the same cold, indifferent being as I found him to be upon my first introduction.

Some nests are curious on account of shape. The birds often, it would seem, try their very best to see how oddly they can build their homes. The little Acadian Flycatcher, so common in Eastern Pennsylvania during the breeding-season, sometimes appears to be controlled by cranky ideas with regard to building. Dry blossoms of the hickory are the materials it ordinarily uses, and they can always be obtained whenever needed, but in a nest discovered by the writer in 1882, not a blossom was to be found, but in place of them there were long, stringy fibres of the inner bark of some species of herbaceous plant, which the birds had modelled into a compactly-built, shallow, saucer-like cavity, and from which they had caused to depend a gradually tapering train of the same for nearly nine inches.

Nest Curious on Account of Its Train.]

The King Bird, a distant relative of the Flycatcher, often displays as much eccentricity. Once upon a time a pair of King Birds took a fancy to an old apple-tree that stood within a few yards of my Germantown home. It was certainly not a place of quiet and retirement, for scores of noisy, dirty children daily resorted to its leafy shelter for coolness and pastime. But the birds were not the least disquieted. They had fixed their minds upon the spot, and build they did. The nest was posed between a forked branch, just out of the reach of the urchins. It was a crazy affair. Black, slender roots, wrinkled and knotted and tendrilled, made up the body of the fabric. As it was nearing completion, the opportune discovery of a bunch of carpet rags was hailed with delight. They were instantly appropriated, and promptly adjusted to the outside, but in such a manner that long ends, some fourteen inches in length, were made to project from the sides and bottom. Whether all this was for ornament or protection, or for both, I could not say, but I am inclined to think that safety was uppermost in the minds of the builders, for, looking from below at the nest it seemed but a mass of rags that had been thrown into a tree-crotch, which, the birds perceiving, and its close resemblance to an entangled bunch, had utilized.

LONG BILLED MARSH WREN’S NEST.]

Certainly no more beautiful nests in shape exist than the spherical in form. The Long-billed Marsh Wren builds a nest of this type. Upon its arrival in the spring it seeks the inland swamps, or the brackish marshes of the sea-shore, where, amid the splatterdocks of the former and reeds of the latter, it finds suitable shelter and protection. There, day in and day out, during its entire summer stay, it pursues the even tenor of its life, happy and contented, never caring, like many of its remoter kin, for the charmed circle of man. Active, energetic and buoyant with hope, it skips about the tall rank herbage, in every direction, in quest of insects, making its presence known and felt by the lively chattering song, which resembles more nearly the sounds of an insect than those of a bird, which emanates from its grassy haunts. As these birds reach their breeding-grounds early in May, nest-building is soon begun, but so secret and mysterious are their movements at first, that we hardly know anything of their presence, except when they are colonized for the summer. The labor of building is entered into with considerable alacrity, and is mainly the result of the combined labor of both birds. Their nests are usually placed in low bushes, a few feet above the ground, or woven into the tops of sedges out of the reach of ordinary tides; but in very rare instances upon the ground in the midst of a clump of grasses. Ground nests are loosely-constructed affairs, which is not the case with those that are elevated to the tops of tussocks, or to the branches of shrubs and trees, which require more compactness and a better finish. The most beautiful, as well as artistic, nest which I have ever seen is the one shown in the cut. This nest was discovered in the vicinity of Philadelphia in the summer of 1878. A willow-branch, some fifteen feet above the ground, which was bifurcated, was made to do service. No ordinary skill was that which surmounted the seemingly insuperable difficulty of building a nest, not pensile in character, to such a swaying branch. That the birds accomplished the feat the nest itself was the evidence. In form this nest was nearly globular, four and a half and five inches in the two diameters. It was woven of the broad leaves of a species of scirpus, closely and evenly, and had its interstices well seamed with brownish cottony down. A thin delicate curtain of gauze, of the same material, hung around the opening, and this was continued within, forming a thick bedding of the softest, fluffiest nature, of which the most voluptuous sybarite might envy its fortunate possessor.

Nest Placed Out of the Reach of Tides.]

But the little Golden-crowned Kinglet, a mere mite of flesh and feathers, but with a great deal of spirit, builds a much handsomer nest. It is the perfection of symmetry. Man could not make with all the appliances at his command any thing more nearly globular. But its beauty! It looks like a ball of green moss, the delicate patches of moss being so artfully arranged as to completely hide the dry stems of grasses that constitute the walls. No moss ever spread itself over the ground, or over a stump or tree-trunk, more evenly. When it is known that this Kinglet builds its nest among the slender feathered branches of the hemlock spruce, there is manifestly a reason for the fern-like tracery upon the exterior, so necessary for the preservation of its home. Such a handsome and imposing structure would be far from complete were the inside not in keeping with the outside. But the birds have left nothing to be desired in this particular. The softest and purest of down lines the little bed-chamber, and even swells in its lightness till ready to overflow the neat circular door-way.

Nest the Perfection of Beauty and Symmetry.]

Perhaps the most graceful thing you may ever expect to find when on the quest, fitted to be considered the work of the fairies, is the pretty lace hammock of the Parula Warbler. You must search for it early in June, in remote but thin woods, but never far from running water. Often you will see it upon a branch overhanging a stream. The slender twig of a birch is sometimes chosen for its suspension, the terminal spray of a hemlock spruce, or a horizontal branch of a white oak. Like a watch-pocket, with the opening in the side, it is lightly suspended. It is made of a delicate lace-work, the grayish-green usnea moss, that grows on old trees. The whole fabric is the work of two little birds with slate-blue backs and yellow breasts. No other bird of our fauna builds a nest akin to its swinging, eery nest. It is true much of the material is found in position when the builders commence their labor, but the exquisite outline and finish, as well as the cozy interior, are due to the skill of the birds themselves. Even when the structure is just so far completed that occupancy by the female is possible, the male never wearies of its adornment by additional filaments of usnea brought from a distance. He is the happiest of fellows, for his little beak always finds something to do while his patient wife is busy with the duties that lead to maternity.

Female Entering Nest and Male Adding to Its Adornments.]

Coming like whirling leaves, half autumn yellow, half green of spring, their colors blending like the outer petals of grass-green daffodils, no more sociable and confiding little creatures are to be found in our midst than the Yellow Warblers. They are as much at home in the trees by the house as in the fields and woods. Wherever they wander, the glints of sunshine that flash from their backs should make the most miserable complainer feel the summer’s charm. But in spite of their seeming preference for man, they are prone to build in lonely fields and by-ways. In such places it becomes one of the especial victims which the Cow Bird selects to foster its random eggs. But the Warbler puts its intelligence effectively to work, and builds a second story to its nest, thus flooring over the unwelcome eggs. This expedient is repeated as long as the Cow Bird continues her mischief, until sometimes a three-story nest is achieved. The outside of the nest, composed of glistening milkweed flax, is pressed into a felt-like case, the fibres serving at the same time to lash the nest to its support. Within, to the depth of an inch, is a soft sponge-like material, which the birds have made from the wool they have gathered from the stems of young ferns. A few horse-hairs, to give shape and stability to the nest, are to be found in the inside of the felt-like lining.

Showing the Builder’s Manner of Out-witting the Cow Bird.]