Chapter III: Part 3

Birds have no teeth, yet they eat hard seeds, like acorns and grains of corn. To break these up, and get them ready for the stomach, they have a gizzard, which is a sort of grinding-mill. And to help in the work of grinding they swallow small stones.

One of the wonderful things about birds is the height at which they can live, and not only live, but fly. A man cannot go higher than twenty-two or twenty-three thousand feet, while moving about or exercising, because the air is so rare he cannot breathe. The highest a man was ever known to go and live, it is said, was less than thirty thousand feet, and that was in a balloon, where he did not move.

But birds go a good deal higher than this, and can fly--which is violent exercise--at that height. It is thought by some that the thinness of the air may be the cause of the great speed with which birds fly in that region. But there is still much to be found out about this.

Besides the marvels of flight, birds have other powers almost as strange. Many of them can fly under water with perfect ease, and, more than that, they can, when they wish, sink slowly till nothing is left above water but their beaks, to breathe. And they can stay so as long as they choose, keeping still in one spot, without moving.

A cormorant in a zoölogical garden, who wanted to catch some of the swallows skimming over the pond, sank his body till only his head was out, and held himself there perfectly still.

Birds who are hunted, as geese, have been known to save their lives in that way, by sinking their body under water, leaving in sight only the tip of the bill, which is so small it is not readily seen.

To do such things, birds must be able to make their bodies heavy when they choose, as well as light, which we know they are able to do by filling their air-sacs with air.

There are many things still to be found out about the powers of birds.

XXII

HIS BEAK AND TONGUE

HOW does a bird get along without a hand? He has to prepare food; to keep his feathers in order; to build the nest; to feed and take care of the young; and sometimes to fight other birds. How can all this be done without a hand?

Bill of Oriole.]

The beak is the only thing most birds have in place of a hand, and it is wonderful to see how many things they can do with it.

Orioles use it as a needle, in making the nest. With it they weave strips of soft bark or strings, back and forth, in and out, to make the firm pocket they hang on the elm-tree (see Fig. 1).

Bill of Woodpecker.]

A woodpecker's beak is a chisel or pick, to cut a deep hole in a tree trunk for a nest (Fig. 2). With a nuthatch it is a hammer, to crack the nut he has wedged into a crevice in the bark so tightly it cannot slip.

Some birds use the beak to dig in the ground, as the bank swallows, while the barn swallows make it a trowel, to carry and plaster mud (Fig. 3). All of them use it as a hand to feed themselves, and a brush and comb to dress their feathers.

Birds need to use the beak a good deal, because in most cases it grows like our finger-nails. If they did not keep it worn off, it would grow so long as to trouble them. Sometimes when a bird lives in a cage and does not use his bill, it grows so long that he can hardly pick up his food.

The woodcock's long beak is sensitive, so that he can feel the worms, deep in the mud where they live. Many waders and swimmers have beaks soft like leather.

You can tell by the shape of the beak how a bird lives, and what he eats. The strong, hooked beak of a hawk shows that he catches live animals to eat (Fig. 4). The long, narrow, sharp bill of a heron shows that he spears his prey, often under water.

The sharp-pointed bill of a warbler is to pick tiny insects and eggs out of blossoms, and from under leaves. The sharp-edged bill of a sparrow (Fig. 5) is to break open the hard shells of seeds.

The curious beak of a crossbill (Fig. 6) is to pick seeds out of pine cones.

A duck's wide beak, with a strainer at the edge, is to let water out while keeping food in. A spoon-shaped bill is to scoop up food, and a thin, flat one is to poke into narrow cracks.

Both parts of the beak, which take the place of our jaws, are called mandibles, upper and lower. Both of them can be moved, while we can move only our lower jaw.

Birds' tongues are as curious as their beaks. To all birds they take the place of a finger, as the beak takes the place of a hand, and they differ as much as the beaks from each other.

Insect eggs are very small, and often packed snugly into cracks and corners, and the birds who eat them have a brush on the tip of the tongue, which brushes an egg out of its hiding-place very easily.

The nuthatch picks his small grubs out of crevices in bark with the four-tined fork at the end of his tongue.

A hummingbird's tongue can be used as a tube, to draw up the honey of flowers, or perhaps as a pair of tweezers, to pick out the tiny spiders that live there.

A woodpecker has barbs on his tongue, to spear insects hidden under the bark, as shown by Mr. Lucas (Fig. 7). It is said to be sticky also, to hold small ones, like ants.

The tongues of birds are of many shapes, but each one is fitted to its owner's way of getting a living.

Because the tongue is often horny, and they eat strange things, it is sometimes thought that birds have little sense of taste. But we cannot be sure of this, and we know they all have notions about their food.

Dr. Ward tells a story of some geese, which shows that they do not lack that sense. While sailing upon a river he noticed on the bank some geese, feeding on the rinds of watermelon, which they picked out of the garbage dumped there.

The rind, when taken out of the mass, was none too clean, being covered with mud and other dirt. When a goose found a piece to suit him, he took it up, carried it to the edge, and dropped it into the shallow water. Then he stood and watched it till the running stream washed it clean, when he stepped into the water and quickly ate off the part he wanted.

XXIII

HIS EYES AND EARS

BIRDS' eyes are very different from ours. To begin with, they are round. Then they are placed one on each side of the head, so that they can look two ways at once. Owls are the only birds who have eyes turned forward like ours.

Birds' eyes also are of many colors. Besides our common black, brown, blue, and gray, birds have light and dark green, bright red, pale and deep yellow and orange, even white.

They have, like us, two eyelids. But while we use the upper one to close our eyes, most birds use the lower one. They have also a third eyelid, inside the others, a thin, white sort of skin, that moves across the eye from side to side, and is called the "nictitating membrane."

There are other ways in which birds' eyes differ from ours. The men who try to know exactly how birds are made have found out that birds' eyes make everything look much larger than it is, in other words, they are like magnifying glasses, or microscopes, so that a tiny insect egg, that we can hardly see, looks very big to a warbler.

Stranger still, when a bird is far off, his eyes are like telescopes. That is, when a hawk is soaring about far above the earth, he can see a mouse on the ground as well as if he had a telescope to look through. And the gulls who sail about over the shore, and follow steamers on sea voyages, can see small fish and tiny bits of bread thrown out by the passengers, even when they are lost to us in the foam made by the vessel.

Mr. Frank Bolles had a pet barred owl, and used to take him out with him. He says that the bird's sight was wonderful, better than his own aided by a strong glass. Many times the bird would see and watch a hawk so far off that Mr. Bolles with his glass could not see him until he came nearer, and then he looked no bigger than a dot against the sky.

There is a story told of some small birds migrating over the island of Heligoland, suddenly coming down in a flock on to a man's garden, and beginning at once to work among the leaves as if they were feeding.

The owner of the garden knew they did not eat leaves, so he shot a few and found them stuffed with small caterpillars. Then he looked at the plants and found many more caterpillars, each in the curled-up end of a leaf. The insects could not be seen, yet the birds, while flying over, no doubt saw the curled leaves and knew they were there.

Such eyes must be of great use in helping birds to find their food, and to avoid their enemies. But think what giants we must look to them! It is no wonder they are afraid of us.

Perhaps even more useful to a bird than his eyes are his ears, though they are so nicely covered up by the feathers that we cannot see them. The tufts of feathers that stand up on some owls' heads, and are called ears, are not ears at all, but merely decorations, like the crests of some birds and the long tail feathers of others.

But because they cannot be seen, we must not think birds have no ears; they have very good ones indeed. They can hear much better than we can.

Every one has seen a robin run over the grass and turn his head one side to listen. It is supposed that he hears the earthworm move under the sod, and if he is watched, he will often be seen to pull the worm from that very spot.

When a woodpecker taps on a tree trunk and turns his head to listen, it is thought that he hears the grub stir under the bark, for when he begins to cut the bark away, he is pretty sure to find and draw it out.

Birds that are much hunted by men, like ducks and geese, get to be very knowing, and show how wonderful is their hearing. They can tell the difference between a noise made by an animal and that made by a man. A deer or any animal may crash through the bushes, and they pay no attention to it, but if a man makes the least sound they are off in an instant.

A bird's ears are behind the eyes, and a little below them. They are covered by delicate feathers that hide them from sight. When the bird raises these feathers--perhaps to hear better--they look like tiny ear muffs.

Owls have little flaps of skin with which they can shut up their ears when they wish to be quiet. This must be very useful to birds who prefer to sleep during the day, when nearly everybody else is awake and making a noise. Many of us who live in cities would like to be able to close our ears sometimes.

Mr. Bolles tells a story about the sharp hearing of a heron. The bird was on a tree dressing his plumage, and he was hidden in some bushes and could not be seen.

Mr. Bolles made all sorts of noises to start up the heron and make him fly. First he imitated animal sounds. He quacked, and barked, and mewed, and brayed, and the bird looked interested, but not at all alarmed. Then he whistled and sang, and at last talked plainly, but the bird only looked over his way, as if to see what new sort of beast was hidden there.

No noise that he could make startled the heron in the least, until a twig snapped under his foot, when the bird was off like a shot. That sound he well knew was made by his most feared enemy, man.

XXIV

HIS FEET AND LEGS

A BIRD always stands on his toes, not on his whole foot, as we do. The long slim part that we call the leg is really the foot, and the joint we see nearly up to the bird's body is the bird's heel. But in this book we will speak of it in the common way, calling the toes the foot, and the part up to the joint the leg.

People all over the world have the same kind of feet and the same number of toes; but with birds it is not so. Most of them have four toes (Fig. 8), but some have only three, and a few have no more than two.

Foot of Blackbird.]

In the use of the feet there is still more variety. There are, as Dr. Coues divides them, three kinds of feet among birds:--

First, a foot that can be used like a hand to clasp a perch, a "perching foot."

Second, one that is good to use as a foot, but not at all like a hand, called a "scratching foot."

Third, one that is like neither hand nor foot, but a paddle, called a "swimming foot."

The birds who have the first kind, the "perching foot," have usually three toes turned forward and one turned back. They can grasp a branch or a twig as tightly as if with a hand, as all our common little birds do. And the large birds of prey, such as hawks and owls (Fig. 9), hold in them live mice and squirrels and the other little animals they eat.

Some birds with perching feet have the toes placed another way. Woodpeckers have two turned forward and two turned back, so that they can hold better to a tree trunk (Fig. 10).

A strange thing about the perching toes is the way they are made to hold on, so that the birds can sleep on a perch, and not fall. Inside the toes are tendons, something like cords, which act like elastic rubber. When a bird bends his leg, the toes are drawn up and held so. When he is sitting on a perch, he could not fall off if he wanted to.

Birds who have the "scratching foot," the second kind, mostly go about on the ground, or wade in the water. They do not usually sleep on perches, but sleep standing, or crouch on the ground. In the arctic regions, where there is a great deal of snow, some birds with scratching feet, who have to go about in it, have in winter what has been called "snowshoes," because it enables them to walk on the snow with ease. It is a web-like growth on the side of each toe, which serves the same purpose with birds that snowshoes do with men, keeps them from sinking into the snow.

Birds who have the "swimming foot," the third kind, have the toes made into a paddle by webs stretched between them. They are the water birds,--ducks, geese, gulls, and others.

The toes of all birds have long, sharp claws, not at all like our toe-nails. In the whip-poor-will and the nighthawk, one edge of the middle claw has teeth like a comb.

The long slim part above the toes, what we call the leg, is named in the books the "tarsus." The tarsus is generally bare, with a leathery skin; but in some hawks and owls it is covered with feathers. Birds who live away up in the cold have feathers down on to the toes.

On looking carefully at one of these bare legs, it will be seen that it is not smooth like a lead pencil. It is marked in a sort of pattern. Different species of birds show different patterns. Some look like the shingles on a roof; others like little squares or plates; and some are finer, like scales on a tiny fish.

These marks help in arranging birds in the books. That is, all who have the same pattern are said to be related.

The legs of birds are not all of the same length for their size. Some who never go about on the ground, like hummingbirds, swallows, and swifts, have very short legs. Birds who walk and hop on the ground have them longer, and birds who wade in the water have the longest of all.

XXV

HIS WINGS AND TAIL

A BIRD'S wing does not look much like our arm and hand, yet the bones show that they are the same. The bird has a shoulder, elbow, and wrist, as we have. He even has fingers, though they are so covered up by feathers that one would never know it. He has not so many fingers as we have, and they are not movable like ours.

A bird's wing is a wonderful flying-machine, which men have been trying to imitate these many years. It is made of long stiff feathers, which fold down smoothly over one another at his side when he is resting, but can spread in an instant into a broad fan, to beat the air and carry him away.

One would not think that feathers could have so much power; but when the wing is spread, the barbs of the feathers hook together with tiny hooks, so small a microscope is needed to see them; and that, together with the edges lapping over each other, makes them almost like one solid surface.

Wings are not alike in shape. The wing of a swallow is long and narrow, while that of a hen or grouse is short and round. We can tell by the shape of a wing how a bird flies.

A long, narrow, pointed wing shows that the bird has an easy, skimming flight,--either he flies great distances, or spends hours at a time on wing (Fig. 11).

Wing of Swift.]

The short round wing (Fig. 12) shows that a bird has a strong flight for short distances. These wings are found mostly on rather heavy birds, like grouse.

Wing of Sparrow.]

The longest wings are seen on water birds, such as the petrel and the frigate-bird. The shortest, also, are found among water birds, those who swim more than they fly, as the auks.

All the feathers of the wing are named, and it will be well to remember that the long stiff quills are called _remiges_ or "rowers." These are firmly rooted in the flesh, and are the hardest to pull out. They are the most important to the safety of the bird.

Birds have also another use for their wings. They are a strong weapon to defend themselves, or to fight others. A large bird can give a severe blow with his wing, and when pigeons fight, it is said they hold up one wing to protect themselves while they strike at the enemy with the other.

Sometimes wings serve as musical instruments. Woodcocks make whistling sounds with their wings as they fly, and mourning doves softly murmuring ones. Ruffed grouse produce with theirs a rolling drum-like effect, and others rattle theirs like castanets.

Tail of Ruffed Grouse.]

If wings are not used, they slowly get to be smaller and weaker, each generation having them more and more useless, till after a while they are of no use whatever, and the birds cannot fly at all. This has happened, it is supposed, to the ostrich family and to some birds living in the sea.

Tail of Vireo.]

The tail of a bird is formed of an equal number of feathers in pairs, most often twelve. When spread they are the shape of a fan (Fig. 13), and when closed they lie over each other with the middle pair on top.

Tail of Swallow-tailed Kite.]

The tail feathers are not always of the same length, and that makes a difference in the shape of the end. Sometimes they are even (like Fig. 14), when the tail is said to be "square." Sometimes the middle feathers are a little longer than the outside ones, and then it is "rounded" or "pointed." If the outside feathers are longest, the tail is "forked" (Fig. 15).

The feathers of the tail are called _rectrices_, or "rudders," because they are supposed to be used to steer, or direct the bird's course in flying. But the tail is used also as a brake to check the speed in alighting.

The tail is used more than any other organ to express the emotions. Some birds, like the catbird and thrasher, keep it moving nearly all the time, jerking it this way and that, and tossing it upward.

Tail of Sapsucker.]

In woodpeckers and swifts the tail feathers are not soft at the end like others, but the stems or shafts project beyond the feathery part, and are stiff like the tail of a sapsucker (Fig. 16) or sharp like this of the chimney swift (Fig. 17). These birds use the tail as a prop to hold them against the tree trunk or chimney wall, and to help them in climbing.

Swift Tail.]

Tail feathers are not so strongly rooted as wing feathers, and are easily pulled out. Sometimes, when a man or boy tries to catch a bird by the tail, the bird will escape, leaving the tail in his hand.

XXVI

HIS DRESS

A BIRD'S whole dress is made of feathers, but the feathers are not all alike. There are, indeed, several kinds of feathers, and four of them are found on every bird. There are flight feathers, clothing feathers, downy feathers, thread feathers, and powder-down feathers.

Feathers of all kinds are made in the same way. All have, first, a quill, the horny part next to the body; second, a shaft, the white part on which the barbs grow; third, the barbs, which grow out on each side of the shaft, and together are called the vane; fourth, the barbules, or little barbs, growing out of the barbs; and last, the barbicels, which grow on the barbules, and on the wings have the tiny hooks which hold them together.

But though feathers are made on the same pattern, they look very different. The wing and tail feathers are stiff and strong, and are called flight feathers, but those on the breast and body are called soft, and cling closely to keep the bird warm and dry. These are called the clothing feathers, because they clothe the bird.

Down feathers, which are almost always hidden under the clothing feathers, are, like their name, downy, and answer to our under-clothes.

Thread feathers grow among the clothing feathers, and are almost like hairs. It is these that the cook singes off the fowls.

Kingfishers who dive, and ducks who spend much time on the water, have very thick down under the feathers--like suits of very warm under-clothes--which keeps the water away from their bodies. Thus they can dive, or sit on the water hours at a time, and not feel wet at all.

Powder-down feathers grow on some herons and cockatoos. They are called by that name because the tip ends are continually breaking off like white dust. Nobody knows their use.

Different from all these are the feathers called plumes, like the long, soft ostrich plumes we all know; the dainty little ones that stand straight up, and look as if the wind would blow them away; the long, showy feathers that the peacock spreads with so much pride, or even the pretty, drooping ones in the cock's tail.

These feathers are of no use for flight or for warmth, they rather hinder than help. They are for ornament, and there are many kinds among birds, all exquisitely beautiful. Nature has given to birds a more wonderful dress than to any other living creature.

It is with his feathers that a bird expresses his feelings. In anger he fluffs them out till he looks twice as big as usual; we have all seen a hen bristle up when a dog comes near her brood.

Nervousness or excitement is shown by jerking the wings and tail, and if a bird wishes to escape notice, he can make his plumage a perfect disguise. Mr. Bolles's pet owl would stretch himself up long and slim, with feathers hugging his body, when he looked so much like a broken branch of a tree that Mr. Bolles could hardly see him. And another owl that I heard of, when he was on the ground, would flatten himself and spread his plumage around, so that the eye could scarcely separate him from the dead leaves about him.

No one takes better care of his dress than a bird, and that is why it looks well for a year. Every day, with most birds, it is washed and carefully dried, each feather being passed through the bill, and the whole thoroughly shaken out. At night one may often see robins and catbirds before going to bed, dressing their plumage and shaking off the day's dust.

Besides washing and drying the feathers, birds need oil to keep them in best condition. For this purpose they have a little "oil jug," a small gland over the tail, out of which, with the bill, they can squeeze a drop of oil. We often see ducks and geese oiling their feathers before a rain.

Water birds, who need a great deal of oil to keep out the wet, have the oil jug very large.

Birds seem to know perfectly well the beauty of their plumage. Not only do they try to show it off, as the peacock when he spreads his tail, but they seem to feel shame when their feathers are injured or soiled. One white feather coming in where it does not belong will make a bird very unhappy. He will work and tug at it to pull it out, and often make himself actually ill over the trouble. I had a captive bird who died, I think, from worry and work over a wing feather which persisted in coming in white, and which he insisted on pulling out every time.

XXVII

DIFFERENT COLORED SUITS

A BIRD does not always wear the same colored dress, as I said in the chapter on moulting. A goldfinch, who through the summer wears a gay yellow coat, comes out in the fall in plain olive and black; and the scarlet tanager, who flourishes in the most brilliant red, changes to a quiet green in winter. Besides these, some birds wear at one season a spotted coat, and come out afterwards in one of plain colors.

Most of them change by moulting, as I explained, the old feathers dropping out and new ones of another color coming in; or, to speak exactly, the new ones growing out and pushing the old ones off on their tips. But some change color without moulting. All birds moult completely in the autumn, many moult partially in the spring, and some, as I said, change without moulting.

This last change of color is made partly by fading, and partly by breaking off the tips of the feathers, or what is called "abrasion." This is a curious process. I told you something about it in chapter vii. Certain feathers have edges different in color from the rest; as, for example, a black feather with tips of yellow. While the feathers are new and perfect, as they lie over each other like shingles on a roof, only the edges show, and these being yellow, the bird appears to be dressed in yellow. But the yellow tips are not so strong as the rest, and they break or wear off, or are pulled off in the spring. What is strange, they break exactly where the black begins. So as soon as the yellow is off, the black shows, and behold, the yellow bird suddenly becomes a black bird.

That is the way some birds manage to put on their spring dress in the fall. The solid color is the color of the spring, but it is hidden or veiled by tips of another color for winter.

The meadowlark changes in this way. In the winter his coat is brownish, or buff. In the spring these tips are worn or broken off, and he comes out in yellow and black.

Another change, even more curious, is made by some birds, who all winter wear white spots, or light scolloped edges to their feathers, and in spring the spots are gone.

In these, the white or light parts only break off, as sharply as if cut with scissors. They leave the edges of the feathers notched in queer ways, but as they lie over each other that does not show.

Birds in this way can change color without changing their feathers. While moulting but once a year, they can show two suits, and by partially moulting twice, can show three suits.

Another thing about the color of feathers is interesting. Some colors, such as black, and red, and brown, are caused by coloring matter in the feather. But other colors are only an effect of the way the feather is made, whether it has ridges on it, or certain minute specks under the surface, which seem to act as prisms (says Dr. Newton), and reflect the light in different colors.

For instance, green is always due to some shade of yellow coloring matter under a surface full of lengthwise ridges, and other colors are made in similar ways.

These curious facts have been found out by that tell-tale little instrument the microscope, and no doubt it will reveal many more secrets in time.

Color is useful to birds, as well as beautiful. Its great use is to conceal them from their enemies, and they show that they know this by their conduct.

When a bird is of the color of dead leaves, or the sand, he has only to flatten himself and keep still, and he is hidden. Such a bird on the nest will often let one come close, and even stroke her, while relying on her color to be unseen. A sitting ruffed grouse will do so. But if snow falls, the same bird is very wild, for she knows she can be seen in the snow.

I have seen a striped bird,--black and white warbler,--when frightened, flatten himself on a branch, where he looked so much like the bark that he could not be seen.

Ground birds are mostly in mottled colors of the ground. The whip-poor-will, whose habit it is to rest on a log all day, wears colors that hide him as well as if he were under the log.

The striking colors on a bird are often bidden when he is at rest, but show plainly when he flies. When a flicker stands quietly on a fence he is all in rather dull colors, but when he flies he shows a large snow-white spot on his back, so that as far as one can see him he may be known.

A meadowlark on the ground looks not unlike a flicker, but when he flies he shows that the outside feathers of his tail are white. This is as striking a mark as the white spot on the flicker.

Many birds have such markings, and it is thought by men who study birds and look for a use in everything, that such marks serve the purpose of "danger signals" or "recognition marks." That by these birds can know each other in the dusk, or that the flash of color will catch the eye, when the bird does not wish to give a call, but to slip away quietly to avoid danger, and at the same time to give notice to other birds to do the same.

HIS RELATIONS WITH US

XXVIII

HOW HE WORKS FOR US

MANY times in this book I have spoken of the great value of the services of birds, in helping us destroy insects and weeds that injure our crops. But there is more to be said about it.

From morning till night, almost the whole of his life, nearly every bird is working for us. He does not know he is working for us, of course. He is simply hunting for the food he likes, and what is good for young birds to eat.

But what he chooses to eat himself, and to feed the young, consists mostly of creatures that destroy our fruit and vegetables, caterpillars that eat the leaves off our trees, worms that get into our apples and berries, beetles that spoil our roses and our potatoes, mice that eat our crops, and all the worms and grubs that gardeners and farmers are all the time fighting.

As I have already said, some of the birds like cherries and green peas, and other things we prefer to keep for ourselves. But we should never forget that they have earned, by their work among the worms, all they can take.

I say this, not merely because I love the birds, and want to have them live and be happy, but because it is true. It has been proved true by scientific men in the service of the United States government.

These men have had thousands of birds killed to see what they were eating, and have found out that nearly all the birds they have examined--blackbirds, cedar-birds, blue jays, hawks, owls, even crows--do us more good by the injurious creatures they destroy, than harm by the fruits and vegetables they eat. To this there is, among the small birds, but one exception, the English sparrow, and, of the large ones, only the two hawks and one owl, mentioned on page 53.

Chickadees like to eat the eggs of cankerworms; and for a single meal, one of these tiny birds will eat two hundred and fifty eggs, and he will take several meals a day. Now cankerworms destroy our apples. When they get into an orchard in force, it looks, as Miss Merriam says, as if it had been burned over.

Robins, catbirds, and shrikes, and several others, like to eat cutworms, which destroy grass and other plants. As many as three hundred of them have been found in the stomach of one robin, of course for one meal. Ants are very troublesome in many ways, and three thousand of them have been taken from the stomach of one flicker.

Rats and mice, ground squirrels and gophers, make great havoc in our crops, and farmers spend much time and labor trying to get rid of them; but these creatures are the favorite food of most hawks and owls.

If the farmer would stop shooting the birds, and protect them instead, they would do this work for him, and much better than he can. But because (as I said in a former chapter) one or two hawks and owls have a taste for chickens, he generally kills every hawk and owl he sees, and for this folly has to spend half his time trying to kill the little animals they would gladly have eaten.

A great deal of refuse, dead sea creatures, and other matter, is thrown up on the seashore, or floats on the water. On this feed the water birds,--herons, gulls, terns, and others. If this were not disposed of, it would make us sick. Indeed, on the shores where so many herons have been killed, to get their plumes for ladies' hats, the result has been sickness and death among the people, as Dr. Gaumer, of Yucatan, told Mr. Chapman.

Besides the work they do for us in destroying animal life, their seed-eating is almost as useful. As I said, they eat the seeds of weeds that farmers and gardeners are all the time laboring to keep down, so that useful plants may have a chance to grow.

The whole family of finches, sparrows, buntings, grosbeaks, and all birds with the high, thick bill, though they eat largely of insects through the summer, and feed their nestlings on them, when insects get scarce and weed seeds are ripe, turn to the latter for food. They eat the seeds of all kinds of troublesome weeds; and as each single seed might produce a plant, we cannot guess how much they destroy.

Professor Beal, who is at the head of this government inquiry into the food of birds, and who knows what he is talking about, says that one species of little bird--the tree sparrow--destroys every year in one of the Western States, many tons of the seeds of weeds.

There is a curious and interesting fact about this seed-eating. The regular seed-eaters, the finches, prefer the seeds of certain weeds, most of them harmful; these they break up, taking off the shells, and of course destroying the germ, making it impossible for them to grow.

But there are many birds who eat berries having in them seeds, such as raspberries, blackberries, and all kinds of wild fruit. These birds do not crack the seeds; and, as they are hard, they do not digest in the stomach, but are dropped whole, and are ready to grow wherever they fall.

Thus, while seed-eating birds destroy the weeds which are hurtful, the fruit-eaters plant the seeds of berries and fruit which we like. That is why we find wild berry bushes all over the country. We have to thank the birds for it.

A great deal more could be said about the birds' work for us, not only of the robins and those I have spoken of, but cedar-birds, who are shot because they take part of our cherries, blackbirds, because they eat some grain, orioles, because they occasionally take green peas, and kingbirds, because they have the name of eating bees, though it has been proved that they eat only drones, which have no sting and make no honey.

Let me impress upon you two facts. First, the stories of the harm done by birds are often mere guesswork, from careless observation. For instance, a man seeing a bird going over his blossoming fruit-trees, at once concludes he is destroying the fruit, probably shoots him, and then writes to his favorite paper that a certain bird eats fruit buds. Other papers copy it, and a war against that bird begins in every orchard.

Whereas, the truth is, the bird was preserving the fruit by picking out the insects that would have spoiled it. This is no fancy picture; this very thing has happened more than once.

And again, whatever is said about the harm this or that bird does, never forget this second fact, which I repeat, and which may be relied upon as perfectly trustworthy. The officers of the government of the United States, who have carefully studied the matter and found out positively, without guesswork, what birds eat, have declared emphatically that every bird they have examined does more good by destroying pests, than harm to our crops, excepting only the bird we have imported,--the English or house sparrow.

XXIX

HOW TO ATTRACT HIM ABOUT OUR HOMES

BECAUSE birds are so useful to us, as well as because they are so interesting and so beautiful, it is delightful to have them come about our homes. And it is not at all difficult, for they are easily taught to like us.

In countries where people are gentle, and try to make birds happy, instead of shooting them or throwing stones at them, they become very tame. Mr. Hearn, who has written about Japan, says that the fearlessness of wild creatures is one of the most charming things about the remote parts of Japan, "where tourists with shotguns have not yet come."

Travelers who visit Norway tell us that birds are never disturbed there, and they come freely about the houses. When it is very cold they even come into the houses for food and warmth, and no one thinks of frightening them or trying to catch them.

Even in our own country, Dr. Ridgway told me of a bird-lover in Florida who would not let birds be annoyed on his place. As a result he had a great many there, and they became very tame. Cardinal grosbeaks, who are rather shy, were so tame they would take food from his hand.

A person living in the country, wishing to draw the birds about his place, should begin by protecting it. Cats should not be allowed to come near, English sparrows should be kept down, and boys who shoot or throw stones should be banished from the vicinity.

Next, trees and shrubs that birds like, for nesting and for food, should be set out. For nesting, a very attractive place for the smaller species is a thick hedge of bushes, the thicker and closer the better.

Nesting-boxes nailed up in trees please many, and evergreen trees will draw some that would not come otherwise. For food, various berry-bearing shrubs and trees should be provided, such as chokecherry, shadberry, mulberry, and others.

In a town or city, besides shrubs that birds like, a high fence, with a top that cats cannot walk on, is desirable, and a readiness to go to their assistance is soon appreciated.

A friend told me a few days ago of a family of wood thrushes who nested last summer in the yard of her house in the city of Orange, N. J. The birds soon found out that some of the family would come to drive away strange cats which came in. After they learned that, when a cat appeared they would give a peculiar cry, unlike any other heard from them. On hearing this, one of the family always hurried out and drove the enemy away.

If the birds could not get any response from a call at the kitchen door, they would fly to the front of the house, perch on the piazza rail, and call till some one came out. All through nesting-time they thus called on their friends for protection, and the delight the family had over the nest and the friendly birds amply repaid them for their trouble.

The one great necessity, in both city and country, is water for drinking and bathing. It should be in a shallow dish. The rough saucer of a flower-pot is best, because the bird's feet do not slip on it, and the edge is broad and round and easy to perch on.

Next best is an earthen dish, with clean pebbles in the bottom, to prevent slipping, which frightens them. Water should never be more than two inches deep, but should always be clean, and fresh two or three times a day.

No food should be offered in summer, because we want them to get their natural food of worms and seeds.

In the winter it is different. They should have food regularly. But once used to having their wants supplied, they will depend upon it, and suffer and probably starve, if they are neglected or forgotten. So one should be very sure he will not get tired of it, before he teaches them to expect food.

To feed them safely, a shelf must be placed out of the reach of cats and bad boys. On the sill of a window is a good place, or the roof of a piazza, or a little balcony. Breakfast should be served to them at the same hour every day, and they will soon know when to come for it.

For food, they will eat any table scraps of meat, and vegetables, and bread, chopped fine, and most kinds of grain, broken up, or crushed, for the smaller birds.

But the thing they all like best of everything is raw suet, as it comes from the butcher. A large piece may be wired or nailed in place, so that it may be picked at and not displaced, or it may be chopped fine and scattered on the shelf, like other food. All birds are fond of this.

In winter they need water, and it should then, also, be fresh.

A lady living in southern Ohio, who has for several years given a breakfast to the birds every day in winter, told me that her daily guests last season were hairy and downy woodpeckers, nuthatches, white and red-breasted, one young kinglet, a pair of chickadees, tufted titmice, blue jays, juncos, cardinal grosbeaks, Carolina wrens, and sparrows.

This delightful company came regularly for breakfast, and to pay her, sang nearly through the season.

In the latitude of New York there are about forty birds who spend the winter, and of course there are more as one goes south. In the Southern States, many of our northern birds may be studied in the winter.

XXX

HOW TO STUDY HIM

AN attractive thing about bird study is the fact that there is still so much to be found out.

Men have been studying the dead bird for many years. All about the body is well known. The way he is made, the arrangement of his bones and his organs, are plainly set forth in the books, in words and pictures.

The shape and colors of his plumage, how many feathers belong to his wing and tail, his length, his extent, the shape of his beak and his foot,--all these facts are to be found in every Ornithology.

Some of his most easily noted habits, too, are familiar; where and when he nests, where he spends his time, and where he goes in the winter, what he eats, and when he changes his dress.

But really to know the living bird, to make acquaintance with the individual, to see his family life, his manners, his intelligence, his powers,--this kind of study has hardly begun.

This almost new and most attractive field is open to us to-day. It offers a charming study, with the added interest of discoveries to be made. Nor is it so hard as most persons think.

In the beginning there are two things to learn: first, how to study from life; and second, how to identify without killing. To study is simply to observe closely and carefully, and to report accurately.

Take a little lesson in observing: When you see a bird do not merely gaze idly at him, but take note of everything about him. What he is doing, how he is doing it, and all his points, his size and shape, his colors and markings.

If he is getting food, as he most often is, see whether he picks it from the tree trunk or gathers it from grass tops; whether he hunts it among leaves, bores the bark, drops to the ground, or sails out into the air for it.

Then try to discover what it is--insect or seed, beetle, grub, or worm--and what he does with it,--swallow it at once, beat it to death, or hold it in his mouth uneaten.

Then notice his manners,--if he stands still, or jerks his tail or body; if he flits about the branches, hovers before a flower, or hammers at the door of an unlucky grub behind the bark. Next, does he walk or hop? does he chatter or keep silent? fly straight, or go bounding in great waves through the air? All these things you must learn to see, and to note down the moment you do so, so that you will not be uncertain or confused when you take your books to see who he is.

Then you must take note of his size, and to do this--as it is hard to judge of inches--it is well to have in mind a sort of index of size to which you can compare him. Take the most common and best-known birds for standards, the robin, the English sparrow, and one smaller,--the wren, or the "chebec" (least flycatcher). When you see a bird, if he is as big as a robin, enter in your note: "Size, robin." Should he be a little smaller, yet still larger than your measure,--the English sparrow,--you can note it, "Size, robin -," the minus sign meaning that it is less. If he were larger, you would put the plus sign: "Size, robin +."

Observe the shape, whether it is slim like an oriole, or chunky like a chickadee; also any peculiarity of plumage, as a crest, specially long or strangely formed tail feathers; the end of the tail, whether square, rounded, pointed, or notched.

Then notice the beak; its length compared to the head, its shape and color. If it is high and thick, like a canary's or sparrow's, the bird is a seed-eater; if long and straight, like a robin's, he is an insect-eater; if sharp and flat, opening very wide like a swallow's, he is a flycatcher.

Canadian Warbler.]

Lastly, note the plumage, the general color, then special markings, such as bars on wings or tail, a ring around the eye (Fig. 18), or a line over or through the eye (Fig. 19), white or black throat (Fig. 20 or 19), speckled or striped breast (Fig. 18), or any conspicuous blotch. Every point must be set down the moment you notice it. You cannot trust your memory.

Black-throated Green Warbler.]

With these full notes, return to your study and take your manual to find out his name, or to identify.

White-throated Sparrow.]

Many persons think that in order to know a bird, and especially to find out his name, one must have him in the hand, count his wing and tail feathers, and measure his length. Excepting for exact scientific purposes, this is not at all necessary. Almost any bird in America may be perfectly identified without touching him, indeed, while he is in the enjoyment of his liberty in a tree. For birds have marked external differences, which are carefully set down in the books.

The modern manuals, too, are usually furnished with a color key, the use of which is fully explained in them. With the help of this you will have little trouble in naming your bird.

Above all, be exact in your knowledge and do not jump at conclusions. If you see a bird on a fruit-tree picking about the blossoms, do not decide offhand that he is spoiling the fruit; look closely to see if he is not, instead, clearing it of worms that would destroy it all. When you notice a bird in a strawberry bed, do not instantly conclude that he is after strawberries; he doesn't care half so much for berries as he does for insects, and very often he is engaged in ridding the plants of pests, at the moment that he is scared off or shot by a careless person, who does not wait to see whether he is friend or foe.

Although patience and clear eyes alone will open many delightful secrets of bird life, a good opera glass will do still more. It will bring you nearer to the bird without frightening him. You can see thus much better, not only his markings, but what he is doing. In a word, you can be more sure of your facts.

In deciding upon the actions of a bird, never _guess_ at anything. If you see a pair very busy about a shrub, you may be sure they have a nest there, but do not so record it till you have actually seen the nest. Even then you should not conclude at once that it belongs to them; I have seen birds sit a few moments in nests which did not belong to them--as if to try them. You may feel very sure what a bird means by an action, but you should set down only what he _does_. Without this care, your records will be worthless.

Do not discourage yourself by trying to find the name of every tiny atom in feathers that you see; indeed, little birds flitting about the tree-tops--mostly warblers--will be hard for you to identify, and almost impossible to watch. I advise you to confine your study at first to the larger and less lively birds,--kingbirds, robins, thrushes, phœbes, bluebirds, orioles, goldfinches, and others, all of which you will find near to houses and easy to study. Do not expect too much at once, nor give up in despair if you cannot identify the first bird you see.

You may be sure that every hour you honestly give to the study will make it more interesting; every bird you learn to know will be like a new and delightful companion.

You will lose your desire to take life or even to steal eggs from them; the country will have new charms for you; in fact, a person blessed with a love of the study of birds or beasts or insects possesses a lifelong and inexhaustible source of interest and happiness.