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Robert Nemiroff and Jerry Bonnell - "The Square Root of 37"

Charles Dickens - "Hard Times"

Irvin S. Cobb - "Speaking of Operations"

Arthur Conan Doyle - "The New Revelation"

Bird Neighbors

N >> Neltje Blanchan >> Bird Neighbors




There is another species of crossbill, called the White-winged (Loxia
leucoptera), that differs from the preceding chiefly in having two white bands
across its wings and in being more rare.


THE REDPOLL (Acanthis linaria) Finch family

Called also: REDPOLL LINNET; LITTLE SNOWBIRD; LESSER REDPOLL;
[COMMON REDPOLL, AOU 1998]

Length -- 5.25 to 5.5 inches. About an inch shorter than the
English sparrow.
Male -- A rich crimson wash on head, neck, breast, and lower
back, that is sometimes only a pink when we see the bird in
midwinter. Grayish-brown, sparrowy feathers show underneath the
red wash. Dusky wings and tail, the feathers more or less edged
with whitish. Soiled white underneath; the sides with dusky
streaks. Bill sharply pointed.
Female -- More dingy than male, sides more heavily streaked, and
having crimson only on the crown.
Range -- An arctic bird that descends irregularly into the
Northern United States.
Migrations -- An irregular winter visitor.

"Ere long, amid the cold and powdery snow, as it were a fruit of the season,
will come twittering a flock of delicate crimson-tinged birds, lesser
redpolls, to sport and feed on the buds just ripe for them on the sunny side
of a wood, shaking down the powdery snow there in their cheerful feeding, as
if it were high midsummer to them." Thoreau's beautiful description of these
tiny winter visitors, which should be read entire, shows the man in one of his
most sympathetic, exalted moods, and it is the best brief characterization of
the redpoll that we have.

When the arctic cold becomes too cruel for even the snow-birds and crossbills
to withstand, flocks of the sociable little redpolls flying southward are the
merest specks in the sullen, gray sky, when they can be seen at all. So high
do they keep that often they must pass above our heads without our knowing it.
First we see a quantity of tiny dots, like a shake of pepper, in the cloud
above, then the specks grow larger and larger, and finally the birds seem to
drop from the sky upon some tall tree that they completely cover -- a
veritable cloudburst of birds. Without pausing to rest after the long journey,
down they flutter into the weedy pastures with much cheerful twittering, to
feed upon whatever seeds may be protruding through the snow. Every action of a
flock seems to be concerted, as if some rigid disciplinarian had drilled them,
and yet no leader can be distinguished in the merry company. When one flies,
all fly; where one feeds, all feed, and by some subtle telepathy all rise at
the identical instant from their feeding ground and cheerfully twitter in
concert where they all alight at once. They are more easily disturbed than the
goldfinches, that are often seen feeding with them in the lowlands;
nevertheless, they quite often venture into our gardens and orchards, even in
suburbs penetrated by the trolley-car.

Usually in winter we hear only their lisping call-note; but if the birds
linger late enough in the spring, when their "fancy lightly turns to thoughts
of love," a gleeful, canary-like song comes from the naked branches, and we
may know by it that the flock will soon disappear for their nesting grounds in
the northern forests.

The Greater Redpoll (Acanthis linaria rostrata) may be distinguished from the
foregoing species by its slightly larger size, darker upper parts, and
shorter, stouter bill. But the notes, habits, and general appearance of both
redpolls are so nearly identical that the birds are usually mistaken for each
other.


PURPLE FINCH (Carpodacus purpureus) Finch family

Called also: PURPLE LINNET

Length -- 6 to 6.25 inches. About the same size as the English
sparrow.
Male -- Until two years old, sparrow-like in appearance like the
female, but with olive-yellow on chin and lower back.
Afterwards entire body suffused with a bright raspberry-red,
deepest on head, lower back, and breast, and other parts only
faintly washed with this color. More brown on back; and wings
and tail, which are dusky, have some reddish brown feathers.
Underneath grayish white. Bill heavy. Tail forked.
Female -- Grayish olive brown above; whitish below; finely
Streaked everywhere with very dark brown, like a sparrow. Sides
of breast have arrow-shaped marks. Wings and tail darkest.
Range -- North America, from Columbia River eastward to Atlantic
and from Mexico northward to Manitoba. Most common in Middle
States and New England. Winters south of Pennsylvania.
Migrations -- March. November. Common summer resident. Rarely
individuals winter at the north.

In this "much be-sparrowed country" of ours familiarity is apt to breed
contempt for any bird that looks sparrowy, in which case one of the most
delicious songsters we have might easily be overlooked. It is not until the
purple finch reaches maturity in his second year that his plumage takes on the
raspberry-red tints that some ornithologists named purple. Oriental purple is
our magenta, it is true, but not a raspberry shade. Before maturity, but for
the yellow on his lower back and throat, he and his mate alike suggest a
song-sparrow; and it is important to note their particularly heavy, rounded
bills, with the tufts of feathers at the base, and their forked tails, to name
them correctly. But the identification of the purple finch, after all, depends
quite as much upon his song as his color. In March, when flocks of these birds
come north, he has begun to sing a little; by the beginning of May he is
desperately in love, and sudden, joyous peals of music from the elm or
evergreen trees on the lawn enliven the garden. How could his little brown
lady-love fail to be impressed with a suitor so gayly dressed, so tender and
solicitous, so deliciously sweet-voiced? With fuller, richer song than the
warbling vireo's, which Nuttall has said it resembles, a perfect ecstasy of
love, pours incessantly from his throat during the early summer days. There is
a suggestion of the robins love-song in his, but its copiousness, variety, and
rapidity give it a character all its own.

In some old, neglected hedge or low tree about the countryplace a flat, grassy
nest, lined with horsehair, contains four or five green eggs in June, and the
old birds are devotion itself to each other, and soon to their young, sparrowy
brood.

But when parental duties are over, the finches leave our lawns and gardens to
join flocks of their own kind in more remote orchards or woods, their favorite
haunts. Their subdued warble may be heard during October and later, as if the
birds were humming to themselves.

Much is said of their fondness for fruit blossoms and tree buds, but the truth
is that noxious insects and seeds of grain constitute their food in summer,
the berries of evergreens in winter. To a bird so gay of color, charming of
voice, social, and trustful of disposition, surely a few blossoms might be
spared without grudging.


THE AMERICAN ROBIN (Merula migratoria) Thrush family

Called also: RED-BREASTED OR MIGRATORY THRUSH; ROBIN-REDBREAST

Length -- 10 inches.
Male -- Dull brownish olive-gray above. Head black; tail brownish
black, with exterior feathers white at inner tip. Wings dark
brownish. Throat streaked with black and white. White eyelids.
Entire breast bright rusty red; whitish below the tail.
Female -- Duller and with paler breast, resembling the male in
autumn.
Range -- North America, from Mexico to arctic regions.
Migrations -- March. October or November. Often resident
throughout the year.

It seems almost superfluous to write a line of description about a bird that
is as familiar as a chicken; yet how can this nearest of our bird neighbors be
passed without a reference? Probably he was the very first bird we learned to
call by name.

The early English colonists, who had doubtless been brought up, like the rest
of us, on "The Babes in the Wood," named the bird after the only heroes in
that melancholy tale; but in reality the American robin is a much larger bird
than the English
robin-redbreast and less brilliantly colored. John Burroughs calls him, of all
our birds, "the most native and democratic."

How the robin dominates birddom with his strong, aggressive personality! His
voice rings out strong and clear in the early morning chorus, and, more
tenderly subdued at twilight, it still rises above all the sleepy notes about
him. Whether lightly tripping over the lawn after the "early worm," or rising
with his sharp, quick cry of alarm, when startled, to his nest near by, every
motion is decided, alert, and free. No pensive hermit of the woods, like his
cousins, the thrushes, is this joyous vigorous "bird of the morning." Such a
presence is inspiriting.

Does any bird excel the robin in the great variety of his vocal expressions?
Mr. Parkhurst, in his charming "Birds' Calendar," says he knows of "no other
bird that is able to give so many shades of meaning to a single note, running
through the entire gamut of its possible feelings. From the soft and mellow
quality, almost as coaxing as a dove's note, with which it encourages its
young when just out of the nest, the tone, with minute gradations, becomes
more vehement, and then harsh and with quickened reiteration, until it
expresses the greatest intensity of a bird's emotions. Love, contentment,
anxiety, exultation, rage -- what other bird can throw such multifarious
meaning into its tone? And herein the robin seems more nearly human than any
of its kind."

There is no one thing that attracts more birds about the house that a
drinking-dish -- large enough for a bathtub as well; and certainly no bird
delights in sprinkling the water over his back more than a robin, often aided
in his ablutions by the spattering of the sparrows. But see to it that this
drinking-dish is well raised above the reach of lurking cats.

While the robin is a famous splasher, his neatness stops there. A robin's nest
is notoriously dirty within, and so carelessly constructed of weed-stalks,
grass, and mud, that a heavy summer shower brings more robins' nests to the
ground than we like to contemplate. The color of the eggs, as every one knows,
has given their name to the tint. Four is the number of eggs laid, and two
broods are often reared in the same nest.

Too much stress is laid on the mischief done by the robins in the cherry trees
and strawberry patches, and too little upon the quantity of worms and insects
they devour. Professor Treadwell, who experimented upon some young robins kept
in captivity, learned that they ate sixty-eight earthworms daily -- "that is,
each bird ate forty-one per cent more than its own weight in twelve hours! The
length of these worms, if laid end to end, would be about fourteen feet. Man,
at this rate, would eat about seventy pounds of flesh a day, and drink five or
six gallons of water."


ORCHARD ORIOLE (Icterus spurius) Blackbird and Oriole family

Called also: ORCHARD STARLING; ORCHARD HANG-NEST

Length -- 7 to 7.3 inches. About one-fourth smaller than the
robin.
Male -- Head, throat, upper back, tail, and part of wings black.
Breast, rump, shoulders, under wing and tail coverts, and under
parts bright reddish brown. Whitish-yellow markings on a few
tail and wing feathers.
Female -- Head and upper parts olive, shading into brown;
brighter on head and near tail. Back and wings dusky brown,
with pale-buff shoulder-bars and edges of coverts. Throat
black. Under parts olive, shading into yellow.
Range -- Canada to Central America. Common in temperate latitudes
of the United States.
Migrations -- Early May. Middle of September. Common summer
resident.

With a more southerly range than the Baltimore oriole and less conspicuous
coloring, the orchard oriole is not so familiar a bird in many Northern
States, where, nevertheless, it is quite common enough to be classed among our
would-be intimates. The orchard is not always as close, to the house as this
bird cares to venture; he will pursue an insect even to the piazza vines.

His song, says John Burroughs, is like scarlet, "strong, intense, emphatic,"
but it is sweet and is more rapidly uttered than that of others of the family.
It is ended for the season early in July.

This oriole, too, builds a beautiful nest, not often pendent like the
Baltimore's, but securely placed in the fork of a sturdy fruit tree, at a
moderate height, and woven with skill and precision, like a basket. When the
dried grasses from one of these nests were stretched and measured, all were
found to be very nearly the same length, showing to what pains the little
weaver had gone to make the nest neat and pliable, yet strong. Four
cloudy-white eggs with dark-brown spots are usually found in the nest in June.

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