Kitabı oku: «Birds and All Nature, Vol. III, No. 3, March 1898», sayfa 3
THE STORMY PETREL
A thousand miles from land are we,
Tossing about on the stormy sea —
From billow to bounding billow cast,
Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast.
The sails are scattered abroad like weeds,
The strong masts shake like quivering reeds;
The mighty cables and iron chains,
The hull – which all earthly strength disdains —
They strain and they crack, and hearts like stone
Their natural, hard, proud strength disown.
Up and down! – up and down!
From the base of the wave to the billow's crown,
And amidst the flashing and feathery foam
The Stormy Petrel finds a home —
A home, if such a place may be
For her who lives on the wide, wide sea.
On the craggy ice, in the frozen air,
And only seeketh her rocky lair
To warn her young and teach them to spring
At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing!
O'er the deep! – o'er the deep!
Where the whale and the shark and the sword fish sleep —
Out-flying the blast and the driving rain,
The Petrel telleth her tale – in vain;
For the mariner curseth the warning bird
Which bringeth him news of the storm unheard!
Ah! thus does the prophet of good or ill
Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still;
Yet he ne'er falters – so, Petrel, spring
Once more o'er the waves on thy stormy wing!
– Bryan Waller Procter.
THE BLUE-GRAY GNATCATCHER
ALMOST everywhere in the United States this active little bird may be found, inhabiting chiefly open, high woods. Often he may be seen along streams, skipping and darting about among the topmost branches of the trees, his long tail elevated and jerking in wren-like fashion, always moving about and ever uttering his wheezy, squeaky notes. Ridgway says that during the breeding season the male has a varied song of considerable power, but lacking in sweetness, and uttered in an erratic manner, portions of it suggesting a weak imitation of the Catbird's medley.
It is as a nest builder that the Gnatcatcher is best known. Davie, whose life study has been nests and eggs, says that as a work of beauty and ingenious architectural design the nest of this bird has few equals in this country. On the whole, it is a rather frail structure, usually built in the small upright twigs or saddled on the horizontal limbs of trees at heights ranging from ten to fifty feet, but generally at an elevation of about fifteen or twenty feet. The typical nest has high, compact walls, contracted at the brim, and gracefully turned; the interior is deeply cupped, and the exterior is beautifully ornamented with lichens. The opening is always at the top. Often the nest is attached to a limb of the same diameter as itself, thus appearing as a knot or other excrescence. If, as Baskett says, "there can be no doubt that a bird may take delight in the skill of its work and the beauty of its home, as well as in its plumage," the dainty residence of the Blue-gray Gnatcatcher would indicate that the pretty little bird experiences a great amount of pleasure indeed. She lines her nest with soft, downy materials – cotton-like substances of withered blossoms and the silky down of the milkweed – fine, wiry grasses, horsehair, and an occasional feather from her own breast. In this she lays four or five eggs of greenish or bluish white, speckled with chestnut.
Col. Goss describes this bird as as much at home in the shrubby bushes on the hillsides or mesquite growths on the plains, as within the tree-tops of the heavily timbered bottom lands; a nervous, restless species that, in their quest of insect life, nimbly skip from branch to branch, with partially spread wings and flirting tails, held more or less erect, now and then darting like a flash into the air to catch the passing flies; a tireless picture of bustling energy, that only ceases with the day. The soft, warbling love song is varied, tender, and full of melody, but so low, the hearer must stop to listen in order to fully catch its silvery tones.
THE AMERICAN COOT
I have a number of names: Mud Hen, Crow Duck, and Blue Peter. It's all the same to me. What's in a name anyway? Wouldn't a rose smell just as sweet if it were named Blue Peter, too?
Well I am an aquatic bird, and can quack with the best of them and swim with them, too. I go along beautifully on the water. My feet are very remarkable, the toes being fringed by a membrane which assists me greatly in swimming as well as walking over the ooze. I call them my mud-boards.
Such a lovely little thing as I was when I came out of my shell! that is what people, who saw me at that time, say. My down was jet-black and my head a bright orange-scarlet mixed with purple and blue. I wish I looked half as handsome now, but you can't paddle around in the mud all day and keep clean. That is I can't. My coat is a sooty-black now and I won't be able to change it as long as I live.
Do you see that bare patch on my forehead! Well, that accounts for some people's calling me a "Bald-headed Coot." Maybe you will be called that some day, too.
I don't often come to dry land, but when I do I march along very gracefully. I can fly, too, though my wings do appear too short for my size. I just stretch my legs out behind my stumpy tail, spread my wings, and away I go.
I swim easily too, with a peculiar bobbing motion of my head and neck. You should just see a lot of us patter over the water, using our feet as much as our wings, when alarmed. And such a cackling as we do keep up! Why, you can hear us quite half a mile.
There is one thing about my face I should like to have changed and that is my nose – my bill I mean. It is an ivory-white and no matter how much I stick it in the mud it will stay white. It is a good mark, you see, for a man with a gun, and I am dreadfully afraid I shall be shot some day. I have seen a number of my mates popped over just on account of their white bills.
I visit you in April and leave you in November when the streams freeze over. I hope you will have pleasant weather next month, for I am making preparation to visit you then.
THE AMERICAN COOT
SCIENCE, in its classification and naming of birds, has rendered it quite easy for any one to recognize unmistakably anywhere any specimen we have pictured in our magazine. In some sections this interesting Duck is known as the Mud-hen, in others the Crow Duck, in still others as the Ivory-billed Mud-hen, but with the picture in hand or in mind, one need never call the bird by any other than its correct name, the American Coot. The European Coot resembles it, but its average size is slightly larger, its habits, however, being in all respects like those of its American relative. Davie says that this is the water fowl that the young sportsman persists in shooting as a game bird, but at a riper age he does not "hanker" after its flesh.
The habitat of the Coot is very extensive, covering the whole of North America, middle America, and the West Indies; north to Greenland and Alaska, south to Veragua and Trinidad.
The Coot is a summer resident in large marshes, and is not often rare in any marshy situation. It arrives the last of April and remains until the last of November. It nests at the same time as the Florida Gallinule (see Birds, Vol. I, p. 121,) but shows a greater preference for reed patches, in which its nests are usually located, often in from two to four feet of water. The nests are generally larger than those of Gallinules, and rarely composed of other material than the dry stalks of reeds and grasses. They are placed on the ground, just out of the water or on floating vegetation. Some times immense numbers of Coots breed together. The eggs are clay or creamy-white, uniformly and finely dotted all over with specks of dark brown and black. From six to twelve eggs have been found in a nest. As winter approaches and the marshes and shallow pools become covered with ice, these birds congregate in immense flocks on the rivers and small lakes, and remain until cold weather closes the streams.
Mr. Nelson says the Coot has a curious habit when approached by a boat in a stream, rising often before the boat is within gunshot, and flying directly by the boatman, generally so near that it may be easily brought down. The abundance of Ducks and other game birds has caused the members of this family to be but little molested, until within a few years, when amateur sportsmen, finding Ducks difficult to obtain, and "Mud-hens," as Coots and Gallinules are called, conveniently tame, have turned their batteries upon them and diminished their numbers about many marshes. In the more retired marshes, however, they still breed abundantly. These birds differ from the Gallinules in being social, going in flocks, and in preferring the open water. They sport and rest on musk-rat houses and bare places of land and dress their feathers there. During the breeding season they keep near their reedy cover, into which they quickly swim and hide, in case of danger. They swim and walk with a nodding motion of the head. They are not expert divers, but go to the bottom when closely pressed and unable to fly. The flesh of the Coot is dark and not good eating, and its feathers are not soft and downy; it is, therefore, not sought after by the pot hunter, nor considered a game bird by the sportsman, for which reasons, as well as the fact that the feathers cannot be used by the ladies for personal adornment, the birds are not shy and are easily approached.
