Chapter VII: Part 7

But what happened to the dog's dinner all this time? Of course you have guessed that the instant the dog left, the five hungry magpies pounced upon the bone. They didn't mind eating at the second table. They knew their time was short, and they made good use of it. I'm afraid they "gobbled."

When the dog saw that he couldn't catch the magpie, he thought of his dinner, and came back. The birds stepped one side, and he took his place again.

Of course the birds were not half satisfied, and besides, one of them had not had even a taste. So they made ready to play the little trick again. Now see their fair play with one another! The bird who had coaxed the dog away had his turn at the head of the table, while another one did the teasing. They repeated this several times, and each time a different bird led the dog away.

The major was a trained observer, and he could tell the birds apart. One had a longer tail, another had a broken feather, and another was smaller. So he could easily see that each time a different bird had the best chance. He was sure they had planned the whole thing out.

I once had a chance to study the ways of some magpies. The birds were busy in their nests, and I was well hidden and quiet, so they did not see me. I heard much soft, gentle talk from them, and at last a sweet song. I was much surprised at this, and hoped to know a good deal more about them, but the next time I called on them, they saw me. Such a row as they made! They flew around my head, shouting and screaming at me, till I was glad to get out of the grove. I could not blame the birds, for magpies are much prized as cage-birds. They readily learn to talk, and are intelligent and interesting pets, so that the nests are robbed all the time. Of course they are ready to fight for their little ones.

FOOTNOTE:

[17] See Appendix, 16.

XXIV

THE LARK FAMILY

(_Alaudidæ_)[18]

THERE are a good many kinds of larks in the world, but only one comes to us, the HORNED LARK, or shore lark. He differs a little in color in the various places he is found over our broad country, but not enough to call him another species.

In places where there is a great deal of rain, birds take on a slightly different shade from their brothers who live in dry places. So there are several varieties of the horned lark. But dress isn't everything, and, after all, he is the same bird in habits and manners wherever we find him in the United States. He is streaked brown on the back, and white below, with yellow throat and black and white markings.

The way you may always know a PRAIRIE HORNED LARK, of whom I will speak, is by the pretty little tufts of feathers that stand up on his head like horns, and the very long nail on his hind toe.

Another way you may know this bird is that he lives on the ground, and never perches in a tree. Sometimes he gets up on a fence to sing, but he likes best to run along the road, or in a field, and he never--never hops. The place to look for him is a field or pasture, or on a country road.

When insects are abroad, he eats the more dainty small ones, young grasshoppers and locusts before they get big and tough, small beetles and larvæ; and baby larks are fed on them. But he doesn't starve when they are gone; he is fond of seeds of weeds and grasses.

The nest of the horned lark is on the ground, and the little mother is very clever in hiding it, and not showing people where it is. Many birds, you know, will stay on the nest till one almost steps on them, and then fly up with a great fuss, thus telling their secret. When the wise little lark sees one coming, she quietly slips off her nest. Then she crouches to the ground, and creeps away. When she thinks she is far enough, she rises to her full height, and begins to eat, or to walk around as if she had nothing on her mind, and there were no such thing as a nest anywhere about. No matter how long one may stay there hoping to find the nest, she will not go back, not even to see if it is safe, so long as any one is near. If all birds were so wily, there would be fewer nests robbed, and we should have more birds.

The little home so carefully guarded is well made. The bird scratches out a little hollow and lines it with grass or thistledown, that is, if she can't get what she likes best. Her choice is for nice soft mullein leaves, which she pulls to pieces. These, you know, are thick and smooth, and must make a warm, dry bed for the little larks.

The brave little mother nests so early that she is often caught in a snowstorm. Nests have been found with the bird on them, when the snow had to be brushed away to get at her, actually sitting under the snow.

When the young larks can run about, and before they can fly, the father takes them in charge. Then the mother sits again, and hatches out another brood.

The horned lark sings on the wing, as does the skylark of Europe that we've heard so much about. It is supposed that he cannot equal that famous bird, but so few have heard him, it is hardly safe to say so. I once heard a horned lark sing. He ran across the road in front of the carriage, flew to a fence, and gave an exquisite little song. If it had come down to us while the singer was soaring about over our heads, I think few bird songs could have excelled it.

The feather tufts which are called horns stand up when the bird is excited. Usually they lie back nearly flat on the head.

In the picture you can see one of these birds in his usual attitude, walking.

FOOTNOTE:

[18] See Appendix, 17.

XXV

THE FLYCATCHING FAMILY

(_Tyrannidæ_)[19]

LARKS may be scarce, but we have plenty of flycatchers, and they all look very much alike. They are mostly in dull colors, and they have a way of raising the head feathers which gives them a little crest. Then they have rather thick necks, and they sit up very straight on the perch.

They catch living flies, as you see by the name, and they have their own way of doing it. No flycatcher ever scrambles around like a fussy little warbler, snatching a fly here and there. Far from it! It is a dignified family, and none of them ever seems to be in a hurry.

The true flycatcher way to get a dinner is to sit still and wait. The very babies in the nest are patient little fellows. They never make half the row over their dinner that young robins do. They could give lessons in table manners to some young folks I have seen. And waiting seems to be a good way, for nobody is better fed than a flycatcher.

On his perch the waiting bird sits perfectly still, but keeps a sharp lookout all around him. When a fly or other insect comes near that he thinks he will like, he dashes out and catches it as it flies. Then he goes back to his perch and waits for another.

Some of the family have the habit of singing as they wait. The wood pewee drawls out his sweet "pee-u-ee," the phœbe sings his sharp "phœ-be" by the hour, and the least flycatcher snaps out his "chebec" till we are tired of hearing him.

Flycatchers are classed among birds who do not sing, but several of them do sing,--not loud, like a robin, but low, quiet songs to the mate or the nestlings.

One of the best known of the flycatchers all over the country is the KINGBIRD. He is a little smaller than a robin, and all in brownish black, with white breast. He has also white tips to his tail feathers, which look very fine when he spreads it out wide in flying.

Among the head feathers of the kingbird is a small spot of orange color. This is called in the books a "concealed patch" because it is seldom seen, it is so hidden by the dark feathers.

This bird does much good by eating many insects. It is often said that he eats bees. But a curious thing has been found out about this habit. It seems he has a choice in bees. He is fond of the drones which make no honey, and so are not useful in a hive. He will hunt drones all day, but he is shy of a honey bee. Do you know why? The bird has not told us, but we can guess that it is because the honey bee is armed with a sting, and can make it very uncomfortable for any bird who catches her.

There is another reason too why the bird may prefer the drone. The honey bee usually flies low, where the flowers are, while the drone isn't after flowers and flies higher in the air. The kingbird sits higher than the honey bee flies, and the drones are the ones that come near him.

Another insect that the kingbird is fond of is the robber fly, which destroys hundreds of honey bees. That should make every bee-keeper his friend.

These things have been found out in the way I told you, by shooting the birds to see what they had been eating.

Mr. Bryant, who knows birds well, tells of a bee-keeper in California who saw a great many kingbirds among his bees. Of course he thought they were eating them, and he killed one hundred of them. On looking into their stomachs to see if they had eaten honey bees, he found them filled with drones. They had been working for him all the time, for every bee-keeper likes to have drones killed.

It has been said that the kingbird is annoying to other birds, and he is called a tyrant. I wanted to know if this was true. I did not go to books to find out, for many people--as I have told you--do not study for themselves, but repeat what some one else has said. The way I took to find out was to notice the ways of every kingbird I could see. For many years I have watched them hours at a time, for weeks together. I spend every summer among the birds, and almost everywhere I go I find kingbirds.

In this way I have found out that the kingbird is one of the most peaceable of birds. He drives strangers away from the tree where his nest is, and so does every other bird. The crow he seems to consider his enemy, and often flies after him, but excepting that, I have never seen a kingbird disturb any bird who was minding his own business. He is not half so much of a tyrant as the robin or the hummingbird.

The kingbird is quiet and devoted to his family. He seems never to tire of catching insects. While young ones are in the nest, he may usually be seen from morning till night, sitting very straight upon a low perch, looking for flies of many kinds.

Let me tell you a little story of a kingbird which I can assure you is true, for a gentleman whose word may be relied upon saw it near enough to be perfectly sure of the facts.

A big bird, he did not notice what kind, was flying off with a nestling robin in his claws. All at once a kingbird flew at him so fiercely that he had to drop the young one to defend himself. The youngster could not fly, and of course began to fall. When the kingbird saw that, he left the thief and flew under the little bird. He held it up on his back, and flew carefully to the ground, where it slipped off safely.

When a kingbird has been tamed and kept in a house, he has been found to be a very knowing fellow. One that I heard of saw that the people were friendly, and he lost all fear of them. His greatest pleasure seemed to be to keep warm. He would cuddle up to a lighted lamp, and dearly liked to crawl under the bedclothes. This pet was quiet and dignified, never a chatterbox. The only sounds he made were a few low notes like thanks, when he was fed.

The nest of the kingbird is usually placed in a low tree like the apple-tree. It is made of anything that comes handy. I have seen one of white wool where sheep were kept, and one of gray moss on the seashore where it is found in plenty.

The Western kingbird differs in color from the Eastern. He is more gray, with under parts bright yellow. He is said to be more social and more noisy than the sober Eastern bird. But in other respects they are much alike.

This bird has been called quarrelsome, but persons who look closely at birds have said that what careless observers have called quarrels are really play. For the Western kingbird, the ARKANSAS KINGBIRD of the books, is a rather jolly fellow, says Major Bendire.

All flycatchers are useful and should be carefully protected, says the same well-informed writer.

The WOOD PEWEE is another common flycatcher. He is not generally seen about houses like the phœbe, who calls from the peak of the barn. He may be found in the orchard or the edge of the woods. There he will stand on a fence or low branch and sing or call by the hour, every few minutes flying out to catch a passing insect.

This bird is in dark colors, with whitish breast and two white wing-bars. His common call is a plaintive, long-drawn-out "pee-u-ee" and sometimes "pee-ay," but he can sing a droll little song. One lady who watched a wood pewee build her nest heard her sing to herself as she worked what sounded like "O-wee-wee-wee."

The nest made by this little mother is very pretty. It is most often on a dead limb where a branch starts out, making a broad foundation. For this reason the bird is called in the South, the dead-limb bird. The nests are not all alike. I have seen many closely covered with lichen, and some made of gray moss so thin that the eggs could be seen through it. Whatever it is made of, it is low and flat like a saucer, and so much like the branch it is on that it is not easy to see.

Like other bird mothers, the wood pewee is devoted to her nestlings. She will shield them from the rain by sitting close on the nest and making an umbrella of herself. And when the sun comes down very hot on them, she has been seen to perch on the edge of the nest and spread her wings to act as a shade for them. It is pretty to see this bird with her little family when they have left the nest and are being taught to take care of themselves. She makes many sweet little noises which sound like talk, or a sort of whispering.

The WESTERN WOOD PEWEE looks like his Eastern brother, but he is a very different bird. His dress is about the same, and he catches his flies in pewee fashion, but his voice is not in the least like that we hear on the Atlantic side of the country.

The Eastern wood pewee has a low, sweet voice, of which one cannot get tired. But the bird of the West has loud, harsh notes, so dismal in tone that they are painful to listen to. His song is almost the only really unpleasant bird song I know.

The nest of this bird is a rather deep cup saddled on to a large limb. When it is in a cottonwood grove, it is covered with the sticky white cotton from the trees. It is very pretty when fresh, but it soon gets soiled, and then it is not nice to look at or to handle.

FOOTNOTE:

[19] See Appendix, 18.

XXVI

THE HUMMING FAMILY

(_Trochilidæ_)[20]

THIS is an American family, and no country in the world can show a more beautiful one. There are more than four hundred species, and some of them hardly bigger than a bee. All of these birds have brilliant colors that are called metallic. That is, they glitter like metal, and they show different colors when they are turned different ways.

All hummingbirds fly very swiftly. You know how they go,--not straight like most birds, but darting one way and another so quickly they can hardly be seen. As they fly, their wings move so fast they look almost like little clouds, and we hear the low noise we call humming.

Hummingbirds eat nothing but tiny insects, and the honey of flowers, which they suck up through their long bill. They take their food without alighting, for they can hold themselves still before a flower, with the wonderful wings, as long as they choose.

The bill of a hummingbird is much longer than his head. It is something like a pair of tubes through which he can draw up the sweet juices he likes. The tongue is long too, and it can be pushed out far beyond the end of the bill. It looks like a stiff white thread.

We have in the Eastern States but one species, the ruby-throat, but there are several in California.

No bird is more charming than our common RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD. He is most often seen flitting about among the flowers. But now and then one may catch him sitting demurely on a dead twig, dressing his tiny feathers.

This bird is all in green, with a brilliant ruby-colored throat, which looks like a gem as he darts about. His mate is in green also, but her throat is white.

You would not think this pretty midget could be a fighter, but he is. When a hummingbird finds a vine full of sweet blossoms, or a bed of bright nasturtiums, or any good place to feed in, he claims the whole of it for himself. He tries to drive away every other hummingbird who comes near it. Sometimes two of them will carry on a quarrel over a honeysuckle vine for days.

The hummingbird is the most pugnacious bird in America. If he were as big as a crow, he would be a terror to man and beast, for he is afraid of nothing. This spirited mite of a bird will even attack an eagle, who is big enough to eat him at a mouthful. He beats him too, for he comes down on top of his head, where the big, clumsy fellow cannot get at him. There he pecks and pulls out feathers till the eagle is glad to get out of his clutches.

A hummingbird's nest is one of the prettiest things in the world. It is not much bigger than a walnut, and is made of soft plant down, usually of a yellowish gray color.

Perhaps you don't see how plant down can be made to keep in shape, without twigs or grasses to hold it. If you could see the bird make it, you would understand at once. She brings her stuff in small mouthfuls, and works it into a solid mass by strong efforts with beak and feet. She pokes and prods each tiny bunch as she brings it, till she makes it all hold together. It is a sort of felt.

Then the little worker covers the outside with bits of lichen picked off the trees, and held on, it is said, by cobwebs. This makes the nest look exactly like the branch it is on. So it is very hard to see.

It takes a hummingbird several days of hard work to make a nest, because she can bring only a little at a time. She does it alone too; her mate has not been seen to help her at all.

I think the male ruby-throat does not help in the nest-building because the little mother will not let him. She knows just how the cradle is to be made, and she doesn't want him to bother her. She likes to have her nest to herself just as she likes to have her honeysuckle to herself. I don't say positively that is the reason, you know; I only guess it is.

After the nest is made, and two eggs about as big as small beans are laid, the hummingbird begins to sit. When the nestlings come out of the egg, they are about the size of honey bees, with bills no larger than the head of a common pin. Twenty-one days they stay in the nest and are fed by their hard-working little mother.

When the twins get their feathers, and their bills are growing longer and longer, they sit up across the top of the nest, side by side. Then they are very pretty, and not at all afraid of people. They will let one gently stroke their backs. They will even answer in a soft murmur one who talks to them.

Hummingbirds are never so afraid of people as other birds. They are easily tamed. But they should never be caged, for they will not live long in a house. They need food that we cannot give them.

A man had a hummingbird whom he kept alive a long time by letting him go free when he seemed to need change of food. He would fly off, but always came back. After the bird got to be very tame, the man brought two young hummingbirds and put them in the cage with him. He did not notice them much till they began to droop. Then the man opened the door to let them out.

At once the elder bird took the little ones in charge, and coaxed them to fly out with him. He led them to a place where he had found the tiny spiders these birds like, and showed them how to get what they wanted. They all ate their fill and then came back to the house, where they were well contented to be.

The way the mother hummingbird feeds her babies is curious. When she comes with food, she alights on the edge of the nest, and pulls a little one up so that she can get at it. Then she runs her long, slim bill down its throat, and pokes the food in with little jerks. It looks as if it would kill the youngster, but he seems to like it. Anyway, he grows very fast, and--as I said--in three weeks he is beautifully feathered, with a bill as long as his mother's, and ready to fly.

A lady who had two young hummingbirds told me that they slept so soundly they were like dead birds. One could take them up and carry them about, and they would not wake. In cold weather she often wrapped one up in a piece of flannel and laid him in a soft, warm place, and he never stirred till morning.

The way she got this pair of birds was interesting. She was walking in the woods and broke a dead branch from a tree, to use for something. On turning it over she saw a nest, and strange to say two little birds in it. She had been holding it upside down, but they had held on so tightly that they did not fall out.

The lady did not know what to do. She did not want baby hummingbirds, but she couldn't put the branch back, and she was afraid their mother would not find them if she left them. So she took them home. She had no trouble to feed them, and they lived with her six weeks, and died by accident at last.

It is thought that the male ruby-throat does not come to the nest at all, but he must have some way of knowing how things are going on. At Mrs. Wright's summer home a mother hummingbird was killed in a hailstorm, while young were in the nest. At once the father, or at least a male bird, came and fed and took care of the nestlings till they flew.

In California one of the most common of this family is ANNA'S HUMMINGBIRD. He is green, with a throat and crown of changeable colors, lilac and red.

The nest of this bird is usually, like the ruby-throat's, of plant down covered with lichens. But some have been found made of the blossoms of the eucalyptus, or gum-tree. This bird is as easily tamed as the ruby-throat, and seems to act a good deal like him.

Mrs. Grinnell found a nest in her yard in California. The mother allowed herself to be photographed in many positions. The young ones were never afraid, and did not mind the camera in the least. Hummingbirds never seem to have any fear of people.

FOOTNOTE:

[20] See Appendix, 19.

XXVII

THE SWIFT FAMILY

(_Micropodidæ_)[21]

SWIFTS are curious birds, with strange habits. The one we know by sight in the East is the chimney swift. Most like him in the West is Vaux's swift. His ways are like the common chimney swift's, and his looks nearly the same.

The CHIMNEY SWIFT is often called the chimney swallow, but it is very easy to tell one from a swallow. One way is, that when a swift is flying about over our heads, he looks as if he had no tail. The tail is very short, not half so long as the wing. He looks more like a bat than a bird.

Then the swift flies in a different way. A swallow soars a good deal, that is, moves without beating the wings, a sort of gliding through the air. But a swift beats the wings much more frequently. A swallow will often alight on a telegraph-wire or a roof. A swift is said never to alight except to sleep.

This bird is so much at home on wing that he even gets the twigs to make the nest while flying. These twigs are the smallest ones on the ends of dead branches, and are easily snapped off. The bird flies at them, snatches one in beak or feet, breaks it off, and goes right on, without stopping.

When he gets his twig, he carries it to a dark, sooty chimney. A queer place for a home, surely. They used to choose a hollow tree or a cave to live in, and that seems much nicer. But chimneys are now more plentiful than hollow trees. And besides, they are nearer the bird's food. So chimney homes are now the fashion in the swift family.

To make a swift nest, the twigs are glued to the chimney in the shape of a little bracket. The glue is the saliva of the bird, which is gummy, and gets hard as it dries, and looks like isinglass.

The mouth of a chimney swift is very odd. You have heard of "stretching a mouth from ear to ear." That's just what the swift does every time he opens his. It needs to be big, for he gathers up his food in it. While he is flying around in the air, he is busy catching tiny flying creatures, such as flies and beetles, and thus keeping the air clear for us.

The tail of this bird is another queer thing. It has no soft feathery tips like most birds' tails. It ends in sharp spines, like needles. These are most useful to brace him against the rough chimney where he sleeps. These spines are really the stiff shafts or stems of the feathers, sticking out beyond the plumey part.

The chimney swift hangs himself up to sleep. He fastens his sharp claws into the rough bricks, and props himself firmly with his spiny tail. Even when the young swift is but two weeks old, he crawls out of the nest and hangs himself up under it. He seems to like that for a change from forever lying in a narrow bracket.

Chimney swifts are social birds. They can't bear to be alone. They are almost always seen flying about in small parties, and calling to each other as they go, a strange, chattering cry. They are of a sooty color suitable to their sooty home, and the pair are alike. Vaux's swift is a little smaller and paler than the common chimney swift.

The young swift is longer in his nursery than any bird of his size in the United States. He is four weeks old before he ventures out of his grimy home, though before that he will come up to the door to be fed.

A late writer in a newspaper tells a little story showing the affection of a chimney swift for her little one. The writer had watched all summer a party of swifts who lived in one of his chimneys. A month or more after he supposed that all had flown away to the South beyond our southern boundary, where they spend the winter, he heard the twittering of one in the chimney. He took out the fireboard and found there a young bird. He was full grown and able to fly, but he was fastened by a horsehair to the nest. This had been pulled off by his weight, and lay on the hearth, holding him prisoner.

The little fellow seemed to know he was to be helped, for he lay still while the man looked to see what was the matter. His mother soon came into the chimney with food. She took her place beside the man and waited, while he cut the strong hair and set the nestling free.

Then the old bird went to work to teach him to fly. It was an hour or more before he learned to use his wings. As soon as he did, the two started off on their lonely journey to the far South, to join their friends who had been gone so long. How I wish we could know that they reached them.

Insects were about gone when this happened, and this swift mother would have died if she had stayed, but she would not leave her little one to starve.

It is a beautiful thing to see a large flock of swifts go to bed. If they all rushed in pell-mell, they might hurt one another. They begin by flying around high above the chimney in great circles. As they go around they sink lower, and the circles get smaller till it looks like an immense whirling funnel. When the birds forming the lower part of the funnel reach the top of the chimney, they plunge in. So in a short time the whole flock is in and no one hurt.

FOOTNOTE:

[21] See Appendix, 20.

XXVIII

THE GOATSUCKER FAMILY

(_Caprimulgidæ_)[22]

THESE are queer-looking birds, having their front toes tied together by a kind of webbing, and almost no hind toe at all. The mouth, too, is almost as odd as the toes. It has a short beak, but is very wide, and it opens from ear to ear like the swift's. The plumage is so soft that the birds can fly without making the least sound.

The two most common goatsuckers are the whip-poor-will and the nighthawk. They are both as large as a robin, and stouter. They are dressed in dull brown, and black and white, mottled all over. If you just glanced at the two, you might think them alike. But they are not marked alike, and all their ways are so different that there is no trouble in telling them apart.

The WHIP-POOR-WILL has broad white tailmarks, with stripes on the back, and a narrow white band across the breast. He comes out only in the evening, and he flies low, without making a sound. He rests lengthwise of a log or fence, not across it as most birds do. His feet are too short to clasp a perch.

On his log or fence the whip-poor-will sits and sings while he waits for his supper. You all know his song, his lively "whip-poor-will" over and over many times. It is a delightful evening sound, which I love to hear. It is said that his notes have been counted, and he has been found to repeat them several hundred times without stopping.

When moths or other creatures which fly in the night come along, he catches them in his big mouth. But he is not obliged always to wait. Sometimes he flies near the ground like a shadow, looking for prey, and he often hops awkwardly along the road, for the same purpose. He picks up straggling insects, and in the West locusts.

The whip-poor-will mother makes no nest. She finds a little hollow in the ground, among leaves or near bushes in the woods, and that's good enough for her nestlings. She lays two eggs, speckled and mottled so that they look like the ground and leaves around them. She looks almost the same herself. You might walk close to her and not see her.

When young whip-poor-wills come out of the egg, they are dressed in speckled gray down. They cuddle down quietly by their mother, and the whole family is hard to see. When their eyes are shut, they look almost exactly like the earth and leaves among which they lie.

If a whip-poor-will nest is disturbed, the mother will pretend to be badly hurt. She will tumble about on the ground and cry like the whine of a young puppy, trying to coax away the one she fears. If she is too much alarmed, she will clasp her young one between her feet and fly away with it.

Instead of the common whip-poor-will of the Northern and Middle States, the South has the CHUCK-WILL'S-WIDOW, who is somewhat larger. The West has the POOR-WILL, or the NUTTALL'S WHIP-POOR-WILL, who is rather smaller and paler than either. The habits of all are about the same. They are called solitary birds. That is, they are not found in parties like swallows or crows. They do not sing or call when flying.

These birds are hard to watch because they come out in the dark, and can then see so much better than we can. So we know little about their ways.

The NIGHTHAWK'S looks, and all his ways, are different. He wears the same colors that the whip-poor-will does, but they are arranged in another way. They are put in bars running across the back and tail, and there is a great deal of white on his upper breast. On the wing is a large white spot that looks like a hole across it, when you see him flying away up in the air. You can always know him by this.

Then he does not act like the whip-poor-will. He is a high flyer, sailing about over our heads in the afternoon or evening. He is not silent on the wing. Now and then he gives a strange sharp cry like "peent." He is busy catching flies and mosquitoes as he goes. Sometimes you will see him dive head first toward the earth as if he would dash himself against it. At the same time he makes a loud sound, like blowing into the bunghole of an empty barrel. But before he touches, he turns and skims along just above the ground.

The mother nighthawk, like the whip-poor-will, makes no nest. She chooses a sunny spot in a pasture or on a hillside to put her eggs. Sometimes in the cities, where flies and other things to eat are so plentiful, she takes a flat house-roof for her nursery. Many pairs of down-covered baby night hawks are brought up over our heads, and we do not know it.

* * * * *

The family name of Goatsuckers was given to the birds from the foolish notion that they took milk from the goats. By watching them, it has been found that when they are so busy around the goats or cattle, they are really catching the insects which torment them. So they are doing a kindness to the beasts, instead of an injury.

FOOTNOTE:

[22] See Appendix, 21.

XXIX

THE WOODPECKER FAMILY

(_Picidæ_)[23]

YOU may generally know a woodpecker the moment you see him on a tree. He will--if he follows woodpecker fashions--be clinging to the trunk, or a big branch, propped up by his stiff tail, and not perched crosswise like most other birds.

There are a good many of this family in the world. We have twenty-four species in North America. They differ from other birds in two or three ways. First their toes are always in pairs, two turned forward and two turned backward, except in one genus, which has but three toes. So they can hold on better than anybody else.

Then again the tails of woodpeckers are not like most birds' tails. They are strong and stiff, so that they can be used as props to hold the bird in the queer position he likes so well.

Oddest of all are the woodpecker tongues. They are round, worm-shaped it is called, and except in the genus of sapsuckers, very long. They can be pushed out far beyond the end of the beak. That is so that they can reach into a deep hole for the insects they eat. They have little barbs or sharp points on the tip, to catch their prey, and they are sticky besides. The tongue of the sapsucker has a brush at the end and is not barbed.

One of the most notable things about a woodpecker is his bill, which he uses as a drill and also to drum with.

Woodpeckers are made to take care of the large limbs and trunks of trees, to get out from under the bark the grubs which would kill them. They are perfectly fitted for the work.

As you learn more about birds and beasts, you will see that every one is exactly fitted for his work in life. A worm is as well fitted to be a worm as a bird is to be a bird. How this came to be so has long been a study of the wise men, and they have not found out all about it yet.

The largest of this family that is common is the GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER, or FLICKER. He is as large as a pigeon. In the Eastern States is the golden-wing, in the West and California the red-shafted, who differs merely in the dress.

The gold-winged woodpecker has a brown back with black bars, and a light breast with heavy black spots. His wings and tail are yellow on the inside. He has a bright red collar on the back of his neck, a heavy black crescent on his breast, and black cheek patches or bars running down from the corners of his mouth.

The RED-SHAFTED FLICKER has red cheek patches instead of black, and omits the red collar altogether. His breast is a little grayer, and the wing and tail linings are scarlet. Both flickers have large white spots on the back, above the tail, which show very plainly when they fly.

These two varieties of the flicker are found from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Their ways of living are the same, and what is said of one will do as well for the other.

A flicker hangs himself up to sleep. He takes a good hold of a tree trunk, or upright limb, with his grapnel-shaped toes, presses his stiff tail against the bark, and hangs there all night. When he flies, he goes in great waves, as if he were galloping through the air.

The nest of this woodpecker is a snug little room in a tree trunk, or sometimes a telegraph-pole. He usually selects a tree that is dead, or partly so, but sometimes he takes a solid one. The little room is cut out by the strong, sharp beaks of the pair. The door of this home is just a round hole rather high up on the trunk. A passage is cut straight in for a little way and then turns down, and there the room is made. It has to be of pretty good size, for the bird is fond of a large family. Five or six and occasionally more young flickers have been found in a nest.

Fashions change in the bird world as well as in the human. Woodpeckers more than any others are changing their habits, and improving their condition. They have found an easier way to get a home than to chisel it out of wood. Nowadays woodpeckers often cut a hole through a board which admits them into a garret, a church tower, or the walls of an unused building, and make the nest there. Thus they save themselves much labor. One even cut out a home in a haystack.

These birds have changed too, it is said, in their notions about eating. They do not think it necessary to dig out every mouthful from under tree bark. The flicker feeds on the ground. He eats many insects, but mostly ants. When insects are scarce, he eats many wild berries--dogwood, black alder, poke-berries, and others--and the seeds of weeds.

Young woodpeckers in the nest are fed mostly upon insects. When they get big enough to climb up to the door of their snug home, they stick their heads out and call for something to eat. Then one can hardly pass through the woods without hearing them, for they have good loud voices. And of course they are always hungry.

The way they are fed is by regurgitation. That is, the old bird swallows the food she gets, and when she wants to feed, she jerks it up again. She thrusts her bill far down the little one's throat, as I told you the hummingbird does. Then she gives three or four pokes as if she were hammering it down. A young flicker does not seem to know how to swallow. A lady once picked up a nestling who was hurt, and to get him to eat anything she had to poke it down his throat herself.

The gold-winged woodpecker is a lively bird, most interesting to know. He makes so many strange noises that I can't tell you half of them, and his ways are as queer as his notes. He does not sing much, but he is a great drummer. When he finds a tin roof, or eaves gutter that pleases him, he will drum on it till he drives the family nearly crazy. He seems particularly to delight in waking them all up in the morning.

He can sing, too. I have heard a flicker sing a droll little song, not very loud, swinging his body from side to side as he did it.

Another thing this bird can do is dance. Two flickers will stand opposite one another and take funny little steps, forward and back, and sideways. Then they will touch their bills together and go through several graceful figures. This has been seen several times by persons whose truthfulness can be relied upon.

The RED-HEADED WOODPECKER is another common one of the family, especially in the Middle States. He is a little smaller than the flicker. No one can mistake this bird, he is so plainly marked. His whole head is bright red. The rest of him is black, or bluish black, with a large mass of white on the body and wings.

This woodpecker, too, has partly given up getting food from under the bark. He takes a good deal on the wing, like a flycatcher. Sometimes he goes to the ground for a large insect like a cricket or grasshopper, and he is fond of nuts, especially the little three-cornered beech-nut.

The red-head is beginning to store food for winter use, for most woodpeckers do not migrate. When beech-nuts are ripe, he gets great quantities of them, and packs them away in queer places, where he can find them when he wants them.

Some of his nuts the red-head puts in cavities in trees, others in knot-holes or under bark that is loose. Many he fits into cracks in the bark, and hammers in tight. He has been known to fill the cracks in a gate-post, and in railroad ties, and even to poke his nuts between the shingles on a roof. Any place where he can wedge a nut in he seems to think is a good one.

A woodpecker can eat almost anything. Besides insects and nuts, he likes wild berries of all kinds--dogwood, cedar, and others that he finds in the woods.

The nest of the red-headed woodpecker is usually cut out in the dead top or limb of a tree. In prairie lands, where trees are scarce, he contents himself with telegraph-poles and fence-posts.

This bird is rather a dainty feeder. He does not swallow his food wherever he finds it, as many birds do. He likes a regular dining-table. So he takes it to some place on top of a fence-post or an old stump, where he has found or made a little hollow. There he puts his nut or acorn, picks it to pieces, and eats it in bits.

The young red-head is a good deal like his father, only his head is brown instead of red. A queer thing happened to a baby red-head in Indiana one summer. He was found on the ground, hopping about in a pitiful way, unable to fly. The parents and others of the woodpecker tribe were flying about him, much troubled, and trying to help him. But this young one had been hurt, or was not yet strong enough to get about. He acted as if he were half paralyzed, and he was wholly helpless. Once while the little bird was hobbling about and calling for something to eat, and no one was there to feed him, a robin happened to notice him. He took pity on the hungry baby, and brought him a nice worm, which he took very gladly.

But still more strange was the way the family cat acted toward the little stranger. When she saw him on the ground, she started for him. No doubt she meant to catch him, for she was a great bird hunter. When she got almost up to the little fellow, she seemed suddenly to notice that he was a baby, and helpless. At once her manner changed. She went up to him, and actually played with him in the gentlest way, not hurting him in the least. She did this several times before the bird got strong enough to fly. This is a true story.

The CALIFORNIAN WOODPECKER takes the place of the red-head in California. He is most interesting because of one habit which gives him the common name of "carpenter woodpecker." This habit is of storing sweet acorns for winter use.

Other birds store acorns, but this bird has found out a new way. He drills a hole in the bark of a tree for each acorn by itself. It is generally a soft pine or cedar, and sometimes thousands of acorns are put in one tree. Often a trunk will be filled from near the ground up forty feet. The acorns are driven in point first, and so tightly that they have to be cut out with a knife. When a tree is filled, it is carefully guarded till they are needed.

Many people think they lay up these acorns for the worms that sometimes come into them. But Mr. John Muir, who lives right there, and knows them as well as anybody in the world, says the birds eat the sound acorns themselves. Sometimes, when food is scarce, Indians go to these trees and steal the poor birds' store. They have to chop the acorns out with hatchets. They often take a bushel from one tree.

These birds are more social than most woodpeckers. Often a party of them will be seen together. In his flight and his ways of eating this bird is like the red-headed woodpecker. Like him also, he is fond of clinging to a dead limb, and drumming, hours at a time.

But in looks the Californian and the red-headed woodpeckers are very different. The Western bird has only a cap of bright red. His back is glossy blue-black, and he has the same color on the breast. His other under parts are white, and he has a white patch on the wings, and another just above the tail.

* * * * *

The smallest of our woodpeckers is the Downy Woodpecker, who is not much bigger than an English sparrow. The picture shows two of these birds. In "The First Book of Birds" there is a picture of a flicker at his nest-hole.

FOOTNOTE:

[23] See Appendix, 22.

XXX

THE KINGFISHER FAMILY

(_Alcedinidæ_)[24]

MOST of the Kingfisher family belong to the tropics, but we have one who is found all over the United States. This is the BELTED KINGFISHER.

The belted kingfisher is large and rather chunky. He is dark blue above and white below, with a bluish band across the breast. He has a fine crest and a big head, and he sits up straight as a hawk.

The tail of the kingfisher is short, and square at the end. His plumage is thick and oily, so that it does not hold wet. This is very important to him in the way he gets his food, for he is an expert fisherman. He lives alone, or with his mate, near the water,--a lake, or pond, or small stream.

This bird's way of getting fish is to dive for them. You may have seen him splash into the water out of sight, and in a moment come up with a small fish in his beak. Then he goes back to his perch and beats the fish to death, before he swallows it. He swallows it whole and head first, because the fins might stick in his throat if he took it tail first. After a while he throws up a little ball of the bones, scales, and skin of the fish he has eaten. It is said that the kingfisher can take a very large fish. One was shot who had swallowed a fish so long that the tail stuck out of his mouth, and could not get down.

The nest of the kingfisher is in the bank of a river or lake. The birds first cut a passage or hallway. Sometimes this is only four feet long, and straight. But when stones or roots are in the way, it will be much longer and have many turns. At the end of this passage is the kingfisher nursery. This is a round room nearly a foot across, with a roof rounded up over it. It is a little higher than the passageway so that water will not run into it.

Sometimes it takes the birds two or three weeks to make one of these nests, as we might expect when we think they have only beaks and feet to work with. Usually it does not take so long. If the pair are not disturbed, they will use the same nest year after year. Sometimes the bed for the nestlings is of dry grass. One was found in which the bed was entirely of the bones and scales of fish.

Mr. Baily has told us about a family of kingfisher little folk whom he studied and photographed. He dug down to the nest from above, and was careful not to hurt them and to put them back safely. First Mr. Baily took a picture of them when two days old. They were queer-looking objects, with eyes not open, and not a feather to their backs. They were not so young but that they had one notion in their little round heads. That was to cuddle up close together. They were not used to much room in their dark cradle.

When Mr. Baily laid them out on the ground, they at once crawled up together and made themselves into a sort of ball. They put their bare wings and their bills over one another, and held on so that one could not be moved without the others. After they had sat for their picture they were carefully put back, and the nest was covered up again.

When the nestlings were nine days old, the nest was opened again, and another picture taken. The little ones had grown a good deal in these few days. Their eyes were open, and they were fast getting their feather coats on. But they were just as fond of being close together as before.