Bird Studies In Winter.
AH! Now we see how that the November
winds have torn away the green and
purple and crimson curtains, behind which
the homes of the little birds were hidden
where it was that they lived and raised their
young ones last summer. How strange we
didn't find out more about it then! The
leaves were so thick, and they were so sly,
and we hadn't learned how to look. We
will make thorough work, now while the
birds are away and the trees are bare, of
this jollification study. Don't know what
that means? Why, the nesting of birds,
and the next time they come with their
jollifications, we'll have our eyes and our
wits sharpened all ready for them.
Look here, now, right over our heads, in
the midst of the branches of this young elm
tree, is an oriole's nest. Little did you
think as you passed under it to school
that those bright birds that were flashing in
and out among the trees of the orchard, and
filling the air with their sweet, brave songs
hours before your eyes were open in the
morning, were making this small pocket of
a nest to lay their eggs and swing their
babies in. Wouldn't it have been nice if you
had happened on just the right morning to
know what was going on, and could have
watched from behind this post to see just
how they did it. You would have seen one
bird come first with a thread or string or
fiber of grass or flax, and tie one end
securely with his beak and claws to a small
twig, and then take up the other end and
fasten it securely to another twig, two or
three inches off, taking care to leave the
string hanging between the points where it
is tied, as low down as the nest is to be long
the first thread looking just like the swing
your brother fastened up for you on the
branches of the cherry tree. Then the
other bird would come with another fiber,
and if she found the first all right, would
tie hers in just the same way, only she would
have it cross the first; then there would be
two swings, crossing at the lowest point,
like the wires of an egg-beater. Then they
would bring more fibers, tying them all
around so as to make a sort of skeleton nest;
and then they would weave in more threads
or fibers, the other way, until they had filled
it out round, and tied it so tight that a tem-
pest could not shake it off.
Now it is all ready to be finished. We
do not consider our houses ready to live in
until the carpets are down, and the walls
hung with something to make them cozy and
comfortable. Just so the birds. They find
either hair or fur, or wool, for a soft lining,
and work away to pack it smooth and even,
getting into the nest and rubbing their
breasts against the wall, all the time chirping
to each other in the lovingest way; only
if a dog or a cat, or a small boy, happens
along to interfere with them, the soft notes
turn to an angry scold, by which the
intruder is warned off the premises. While
they are about their domestic business,
which concern no one in the world but their
own two selves, they do not want to be
interfered with. How in the world they ever
double themselves up to get down into this
deep well of a nest to smooth the lining and
set on the eggs is more than I can imagine.
If these same orioles had been building
their nest anywhere down in the Southern
States, they would have varied it to suit the
circumstances. There they guard against
heat instead of cold; so they put the nest
on the north-east side of a tree, and make
it of the long moss that hangs beard-like
from the live oak trees, and do not line it
at all, but leave it in open-work, so the
winds can run in and out, and fan the
young ones, and keep them cool.
I am glad the orioles do not all stay
South, we should miss them so. They make
our summer glad, and gay, and musical by
their chatty, songful, shooting-star-like
ways; and they are really useful, too. Can
you guess how? I'll tell you. I had a
good chance one day to watch one. He
came into the cherry tree, directly under
my window, for his dinner. I ran to the
window when I heard his glad whistle, and
watched him go all over the branches, now
holding fast with his claw to a twig while
he stretched himself far as he could possibly
reach for a beetle hidden under a leaf; then
he would hop sideways a few steps, then
glide along the branches, and so, going all
over and over the tree, as if he were bound
to clean it thoroughly of all the insects on
it (there were a great many black lice then,
and he seemed to be making his dinner of
them), chuckling to himself, and occasion-
ally giving a loud shout, as though he were
enjoying it immensely. His black and
orange feathers were brilliant, I assure you,
when he came out into the sunshine. It is
said that orioles are quite fond of certain
little juicy scarlet balls that, at certain sea-
sons, are found dangling from the cherry
branches, and that they do not hesitate now
and then to help themselves to a bite, and
take home a bunch of them to their young
ones. "Who has a better right, I should
like to know?" Their main living is
caterpillars and beetles, and I doubt not
they feel the need of vegetable food once
in a while for health.
These birds are called Baltimore orioles,
because the brilliant black
and orange of the males are like the colors
on the coat-of-arms of Lord Baltimore.
Have you ever wondered why the male of
so many species of birds is so much more
highly colored than the female? A good
many persons have wondered and formed
theories about it. The one that seems to
me most likely to be right is this: They say
where the male bird is gay and showy, he
does not take his turn in sitting on the eggs
to hatch them; but where both of the pa-
rent birds are much alike, and both of a
sober tint, each takes a share in the work of
incubation. A bird of dull color is not easily
noticed among the branches and leaves, or on
the ground, if it nests there. You see if a
boy who can hit a mark with a stone so
neatly, should happen all of a sudden to spy
a bright red mother bird on a nest, he would
not stop to think before he would send
a pebble speeding after it; and when
it was too late to think, the beautiful
creature might be killed, and how sorry he
would feel when he heard the other bird
mourning for his dead mate, and thought of
the pretty eggs, and the little birds that
might have been, but for his temptation, and
now can never be. We shall find, as we go
on to study nature, how God takes care for
the preservation of his creatures. Does not
this care in coloring the sparrow, to ensure
her safety, look some like the answer,
before it is said, to the prayer, "Lead us
not into temptation, but deliver us from evil?"
And who knows but this is for the good
of the boys as well as the birds?
F. B. J.,
in Laws of Life.
