Set of 12 North American Birds

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320 96% LONG-TAILED TITMOUSE. THE old proverb, "Birds of a feather flock together," is true to a certain extent, but it does not touch the fact that birds flock together under various circumstances and for different motives. Whenever it is used there is generally some sly in- sinuation intended against either the morality or the wisdom of the congregating parties. I am not going to defend a flock of starlings when they make their ap- pearance in a cherry orchard, or a "paddling" of ducks when they swim into a decoy; but le must be either ill-natured or mistaken who would put an evil interpretation on the social gatherings of Long-tailed Tits. From the time that the young birds are able to fly, until next Spring, the whole family of father, mother, and ten or twelve young ones, never part; they do no mischief and run into no danger, but spend their whole time in travelling about to see the world; perching by common accord in any hedge or tree that suits their fancy, hunting for insects among the twigs, keeping up all the while a low conversational twitter, "Here I am, don't go away without me;" and which means, I dare say something more. When one spot is well searched, they fly in a broken line to another, and at nightfall they all huddle together in the most shel:ered place they can find. to be off again at sunrise next morning on a fresh ramble. In Spring, each pair of birds builds, in a thick bush, a large oblong domed nest of moss, felted with wool and spiders' webs, decorated outside with spangles of white lichen, and padded with feathers. Here ten or twelve more young Tits are born, who, when they have once come out of the little hole in the side of the nest and uncoiled their long tails, can certainly never get in again, so they, too, in their turn, lead the happy wandering life of their ancestors. THE 2KA TVBKI Co THE SKY.LARK. PLAIN in personal attire, and prodigal of sweet sounds which may delight other ears than its own-industriously finding its livelihood and performing its domestic duties on the ground; yet courting the observation of all, when its heart is bursting with joy and gladness-the Sky-lark seems to invite us (and surely we cannot do wrong in attending to the call) to "glorify our Father which is in heaven." Are there any so old as to have forgotten the delight with which for the first time they heard the song of the Sky-lark ringing out from the blue vault of heaven, and the interest with which they peered into the void, to see with their own eyes the bird who exercised its privilege of flying that it might mount and pour forth its praises close to the very throne of GoD? Heaven was nearer to them in those days than it has been since. It was a sinless envy, that desire to change places with the soaring bird; and, methinks, God will not behold unforgivingly the simple-mindedness of him who strives to become that admiring and envying child again. But, alas! to many of us, heaven seems farther off than it was in those believing days. The gushing hymn of praise is, we say, but the natural note of a bird obedient to an impulse of its instinct, still gladdening us, indeed, because it denotes calm weather and sunny days here on earth; ; but may it not be that our ears have grown dull of hearing, and that we are not so near the truth now as when we believed, with our childish heart, that the Sky-lark sang in harmony with the minstrelsy of heaven? THE 2 MILL THE SWIFT. WHAT a wearisome and painful life must be led by a bird whose legs are so short that, when perched on the ground, it cannot walk; and whose wings are so long that, when it tries to rise, it beats them against the earth many, many times, before it can succeed, and fails. perhaps, after all' And how joyous must life be to yonder bird, whose body, when in flight, is shaped like a bent bow with the arrow on the string ready to be shot, and whose own flight nothing less swift than an arrow can out- strip! See how, without effort, it darts through the clear blue air of heaven, rising, sinking, wheeling, with barely a movement of its wings! And hark! it screams for very joy, as it chases its comrades round the tall church spire. It has finished its evening meal of flies and beetles, and, having flown some hundreds of miles since last it perched, is winding up the day with a game of hide-and-seek among the clouds. What need of feet to a lord of the air, who never touches earth but to snatch up, in rapid flight, scraps for its nest; whose sole food is winged insects, and who quenches its thirst as it skims the surface of a river? Ay, but though it can neither walk nor wade, it can cling right well with its eight curved claws all turned one way, as it feeds its young in a niche in the tower. It came to us only in May, and in August it will spread its long wings toward the South of Africa, and cheer the self-denying Missionary with the recollection of home, and the assurance that the loving God who guided the Swift thus safely on its way is watching too over him. LABUSHAW WOJIW Sobre WILLOW WARBLER. THE Orchards are bright with golden daff- dils, the wooded hills so thickly set with wild. hyacinths, that they seem to be spread with a veil of blue gauze. No one as yet has heard the voice of the cuckoo, or even thought of listening for the song of the nightingale. One, however, among the foreign birds whom the Providence of God annually directs to this sea-girt land, has been told that the English spring is putting forth its leaves, and demands its birds to complete the vernal harmony, and the Willow Wren has attended to the call. We need not, how- ever, search for it only among the trees after which (no one knows why) it is called, but in some grove of lofty elms, or beeches, or oaks, it cares not which, if only the sun there shines warmly, and the air is mild; for it is hungry, and there sport the earliest insects. It is a tiny bird, but we know it well, and cannot be mistaken. It flutters like a butterfly round the tops of the tall trees, springing into the air from a light twig, and hurrying rapidly through its sweet little warble of twenty or thirty notes; catches a gnat in mid-air, alights on a new perch, picks from the bark some minute beet.e resting after its first arduous flight, arrests the floating spider in its journey, picks a tender caterpillar fi om the ground, and, returning to the tree-top, warbles again. Country people call it hay-bird, for in the hay season it builds its snugly domed nest--"wood-oven" as it is well named-on the ground, in the border of a field near a wood, and lays five or six white eggs delicately speckled with light reddish brown. In July, and part of Angust, it is silent; but before it departs, it once more tunes its voice, concealed among the mature foliage which it welcomed to life. TAHO MOT? HIP- THE STONECHAT. THE next time you cross a furze-brake, keep a sharp look-out, and you will most likely see a Stonechat; and if one, you will be still more likely to see a second. You must not search for it high in the air, or on the ground, but perched on the top thorn of a furze bush. The male may be known by his black head, red breast, and a white bar on his wing; the female is less showy, and has a brown head; but in habits they are alike, and are faithful companions all the year round. They build their nest in the middle of a thick bush, where they lay four or five greenish eggs, faintly speckled at the larger end with reddish brown. During the breeding season they are very jealous of any one coming near their nest, and fly from bush to bush, perching one here and one there, and jerking their wings and tail in a peculiar manner. This is done in the hope of making you believe that you had inuch better chase them than hunt for their nest. All the while they scarcely cease singing their simple song, which you may imitate by whistling a high note and rapidly striking two pebbles together. In summer, when the young birds are fledged, they all fly about in a family party, the father being the only one who has a black head. They feed on insects, which they either catch on the wing, or pick off from the bushes or from the ground. In winter this kind of food grows scarce, and then most of them migrate southwards but a few are to be found on every common all the year round. 3003121 dob SEDGE WARBLER. THIS is the fussy little brown bird which you may see in summer by the banks of a river or canal, bustling in and out among the reeds, clinging to one stalk with his head downwards, springing off to another, disappearing in one tuft, and popping out of another, resting nowhere for a minute at a time, and keep- ing up so incessant a clatter that he seems to think no bird worth hearing but himself. It is not easy to describe his song, so various are his notes, though when once heard it can scarcely fail to be recognised again. If you can imagine the song of the sky-lark, the chirp of the sparrow, the twitter of the swallow, and the cluck of the guinea-fowl, all mixed up together, and rattled off in a hurried, familiar, or even angry manner, and in a warble of only moderate sweetness, you may form a good notion of the Sedge Warbler's song, and you may hear it late in the evening, or even in the night. It seems to live by hunting about the reeds and bushes for insects and small water snails, but one would think it would fare better if it made less noise. It builds its nest in a low bush or hedge, very often near a drain, using dry grass, stalks, and hair; and usually lays five light brown eggs, mottled with darker brown. It comes to us in April, and is not seen after September. When it is winter with us, water snails and the larvæ of flies are safe at the bottom of the water, and the Sedge Warbler has been taught by God to seek for food elsewhere. But it cannot there be so amusing a visitor as with us, for, like most other birds, it stops its song when its eggs are hatched. THE GOLD-CREST. Yet any THIS beautiful little bird being associated by name with the most precious metal, may perhaps be indebted to this circumstance for a place which it holds in the estimation of many, as a rarity. It is, nevertheless, a bird of common occurrence, but much overlooke. This neg.ect it owes to its diminutive size. A full-grown specimen weighs about ninety grains, or less than the fifth part of an ounce: it is not given to long flights, and is therefore not often seen on the wing, and it rarely alights on the ground. Moreover, its crest of gold, though very brilliant, is inconspicuous from its :ninuteness. one acquainted with its note and habits will scarcely ever hunt for it in vain. The art of seeing depends greatly on knowing what to look for. Two or three short notes, as shrill as the voice of the shrew, announce to the observer, as e passes under a Scotch or Spruce Fir, that one is near, and that it has companions; or why would it call? After a short scrutiny overhead, a dark spot, which at first seemed to be a fir-cone, is found to be in motion; it flutters to another bough, and is evidently a bird, most intently searching for insects among the leaves and twigs. Presently another and another are discovered, and finally a dozen or more may be detected, all similarly employed, and all heedless of the spectator. The season is winter, the ground covered with snow, and the north- east wind blowing keenly, so that those who call the Gold-crest delicate must be in error. In spring, these birds cease to hunt in parties, pair off, and build their nest-an exquisitely beau- tiful structure, almost globular, and sheltered at the small opening above by the bough of the Spruce Fir from which it is suspended. Its true song may now be often heard, distinguished among the full melody of the groves by its extreme slenderness. It is monotonous, of few notes, and terminates in a rapid cadence. In sum- mer the Gold-crest is more generally diffused than at the season when it was compelled to hunt for food among evergreens; but it is less easy to discover, owing to the ready con- cealment afforded by the more abundant foliage. 8 HUBHAW 1012) X dob SEDGE WARBLER. THIS is the fussy little brown bird which you may see in summer by the banks of a river or canal, bustling in and out among the reeds, clinging to one stalk with his head downwards, springing off to another, disappearing in one tuft, and popping out of another, resting nowhere for a minute at a time, and keep- ing up so incessant a clatter that he seems to think no bird worth hearing but himself. It is not easy to describe his song, so various are his notes, though when once heard it can scarcely fail to be recognised again. If you can imagine the song of the sky-lark, the chirp of the sparrow, the twitter of the swallow, and the cluck of the guinea-fowl, all mixed up together, and rattled off in a hurried, familiar, or even angry manner, and in a warble of only moderate sweetness, you may form a good notion of the Sedge Warbler's song, and you may hear it late in the evening, or even in the night. It seems to live by hunting about the reeds and bushes for insects and small water snails, but one would think i would fare better if it made less noise. It builds its nest in a low bush or hedge, very often near a drain, using dry grass. stalks, and hair; and usually lays five light brown eggs, mottled with darker brown. It coines to us in April, and is not seen after September. When it is winter with us, water suails and the larvæ of flies are safe at the bottom of the water, and the Sedge Warbler has been taught by God to seek for food elsewhere. But it cannot there be so amusing a visitor as with us, for, like most other birds, it stops its song when its eggs are hatched. 11914 WOOK IM MEADOW PIPIT. Daf THE feet of the duck are not better adapted for swimming, or the claws of the falcon for clutching, than the toes of the Meadow Pipit are suited for perching on the ground. On the ground ac- cordingly, or in the air, its Creator has ordained that it shall pass its life. When alarmed it occasionally alights on a tree, but this it does only for safety, and returns to the ground immediately the danger it apprehended has passed away. In some respects it resembles the sky-lark; it builds its nest in similar places, and of like materials. Its eggs, too, are often like those of the lark, though they vary greatly. But it is much smaller, its bill is more slender, and it never soars to a great height from the ground. Its song is sweet, but short, and is performed either when the bird is on the ground, perched on a stone, or while making a short hovering flight. In summer it frequents pastures, commons, and elevated heaths, whence it is sometimes called Ling-bird, and Moss-cheeper. Another common name by which it is known, Titlark, pro- bably means "Little Lark." In winter it descends from the moorlands, and resorts to ploughed fields. Its plumage now acquires a dark olive lue, which it retains till spring. It feeds in small parties, but never congregates like the sky- lark. While employed in hunting for insects between the furrows of a ploughed field, it is likely to escape notice, owing to its inconspicuous plumage; but, if de- tected, may at once be distinguished from any other small bird of a like hue, by its gait, which is a walk or run, never a hop. WOM1A12 104 H HD 20 ار THE HEDGE SPARROW. 820 2008 THERE are some birds which appear con- scious that their mischievous propensities have gained for them the ill-will of man; there are others which seem to know that they are under his ban, though they have none but the best intentions ; both of these classes agree in avoiding his society. Not so the Hedge Sparrow; dingy in attire, unassuming in manner, and innocent in life, it evidently believes that its inoffensiveness is a sufficient shield; nor without reason, for, except that its eggs are invariably the most numerous on the wretched strings which plough-boys year after year collect, from no other conceivable motives than the love of getting and destroying, the Hedge Sparrow is molested by no one. Its only fault seems to be imprudence in building its nest in quickset hedges before the foliage can effectually conceal it; its only peculiarity, that it rarely moves without making a spasmodic jerk of its wings, with what object it is hard to say. All the year round it frequents gardens and public roads. Its food consists of minute insects and the seeds of weeds. It heeds not the presence of the gardener, in whose friendliness it has perfect confidence; but in the highway, when the passenger approaches to within a few yards of it, it shuffles into the hedge, and modestly gives him un- disputed possession of the way, and, when he is gone, resumes its occupation. In winter, it will thankfully accept the smallest contributions of scraps of all kinds, and will not fail, as soon as frost and snow have disappeared, to perch on the garden hedge, and reward the with a short but pleasant song. giver THE 20MC JHBOZH comes THE SONG THRUSH. THE song of the Thrush is among the first sounds to awaken Nature after her winter's sleep; and well pleased must Nature be to be roused by a sound so pleasant, however drowsy she may be. It is well, however, that she does not invariably fling off her lethargy at the first summons, for not unfrequently does the song of the Thrush ring out clear, loud, and mellow, in harmony with the faithless lustre of a calm day in January, and, before many hours have passed, the earth is again fettered with ice, or mantled with snow. As long as snowdrop-buds look upwards at the weather inquiringly, the Thrush is not a trustworthy herald; when they have nodded in token of satisfaction, and when early primroses are just astir, the same notes, yet louder and clearer, from every copse and grove, announce that the musician has begun his yearly returning occupation of architect. Litt.e noted among the stray sights of the country, how exquisitely perfect is the nest of the Thrush! The foundation laid by a basket maker; the mossy sides intertwined by a weaver; the lining spread by a plasterer; and the whole finished off on a turning lathe ;- what more appropriate receptacle can be imagined for the four blue eggs spotted with glossy black, shortly to be placed in it, and for as many callow nestlings which are to succeed them? Surely it would be churlish to condemn to a perpetual dietary of worms, so charming a songster, so clever a workman. Wel- come, then, to my garden, when cherries are black, and gooseberries red; depart unchallenged, and return with the snowdrop ! THE GIVELIMOR THE CHAFFINCH. THIS smart and lively bird does not rank high in general estimation as a songster; yet at the season when the groves are in full chorus, no bird more assiduously takes part in the melody- not, indeed, as a solo performer, on the platform with the Nightingale and Throstle, but valuable as an accompani- ment, and not to be despised in concerted passages. The bird itself would, perhaps, claim higher rank for its song; on its good looks it evidently prides itself; and though it "Has but one plain passage of few notes, Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er, For all an April morning, till the ear Wearies to hear it." In one respect it is entitled to be conceited; namely, on its archi- tectural skill. Its nest, usually constructed among light tv either near the stem or among the branches of a tree, is in the of a deep cup, neatly rounded at the edge, and composed of r felted together with wool, and decorated externally with spangles of whatever lichen is most abundant in the neighbourhood. "Mark it well within, without- No tool had he that wrought; no knife to cut; No nail to fix; no bodkin to insert; No glue to join: his little beak was all. And yet how neatly finished! What nice hand, With every implement and means of art, And twenty years apprenticeship to boot, Could make one such another?" We are amazed at the undeviating skill displayed, not by a single individual, but by a whole race of birds. What should our feelings be when we contemplate the Power which gave that skill, and the Providence which preserves it unimpaired? ¹8, +-3 3,

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Set of 12 North American Birds

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