The Children's Book of Birds Part 28

The magpie is a social bird. Even in nesting time he likes plenty of neighbors. A party of them will settle in a little grove and build several nests in it. The nests of this bird are the queerest bird homes you ever saw. They look like big covered baskets. They are half the size of a bushel basket, and made of sticks outside. There is an opening on each side for the bird to go in and out. Those I have seen were in the tops of low trees.

The beautiful tail of the magpie seems to be a great care to him. When he flies,--as I said,--he spreads it wide and makes a great show with it. When he is going about on a tree, he jerks and twitches it all the time. No doubt every jerk means something, if we could only understand.

When on the ground, he holds the precious tail up carefully, so that it shall not touch the earth. He is a very dignified bird when walking about in this way, looking for the grubs, gra.s.shoppers, crickets, and other creatures on which he feeds. But sometimes he has no dignity at all. He scolds, and screams, and acts like a bad child. He isn't particular about his food. He will eat almost anything, even sc.r.a.ps from a kitchen.

Major Bendire tells a comical story of the cunning of some magpies in getting food away from a dog. The dog carried his bone with some meat on it to the lawn in front of the major's tent, and lay down to enjoy it, dog-fas.h.i.+on. In a minute or two, a little party of six magpies came around, probably hoping to be invited to dinner. The dog did not take the hint, but went on gnawing.

Then the birds seemed to consider, and after a few minutes they placed themselves around the dog. One stood right in front of his nose about two feet away. Another one took his place close to the dog's tail, while two stood on each side.

When all the birds were ready, the one by the tail gave it a sharp peck.

No dog could stand that insult. The victim forgot his bone, wheeled around, and dashed after that bird. He did not catch him with the first grab, and the wily bird fluttered away. He did not go fast enough to show the dog he could not catch him, but he led him on and kept him eager to get at him as long as he could.

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

(_Alaudidae_)[18]

THERE are a good many kinds of larks in the world, but only one comes to us, the HORNED LARK, or sh.o.r.e 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DESERT HORNED LARK]

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 gra.s.shoppers and locusts before they get big and tough, small beetles and larvae; and baby larks are fed on them. But he doesn't starve when they are gone; he is fond of seeds of weeds and gra.s.ses.

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 gra.s.s 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 att.i.tude, walking.

FOOTNOTE:

[18] See Appendix, 17.

XXV

THE FLYCATCHING FAMILY

(_Tyrannidae_)[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, s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 n.o.body is better fed than a flycatcher.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KINGBIRD]

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 phbe sings his sharp "ph-be" by the hour, and the least flycatcher snaps out his "chebec"

till we are tired of hearing him.

Flycatchers are cla.s.sed 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.