<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>BIRDS AND ALL NATURE.</h1>
<p class="ac" style="margin-bottom:2em;"><span class="smaller">ILLUSTRATED BY</span>
COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.</p>
<div class="vlouter">
<div class="volumeline">
<div class="volumeleft"><span class="sc">Vol. IV.</span></div>
<div class="volumeright"><span class="sc">No. 2.</span></div>
<div class="ac">AUGUST, 1898.</div>
</div></div>
<h2 style="margin-top:2em;">CONTENTS.</h2>
<table class="toctable" id="TOC" summary="CONTENTS">
<tr>
<td class="c1"> </td>
<td class="c2">Page</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#NATURES_ADJUSTMENTS">NATURE'S ADJUSTMENTS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">41</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#REASONING_POWERS_OF_BIRDS">REASONING POWERS
OF BIRDS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">43</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_SQUIRRELS_ROAD">THE SQUIRREL'S ROAD.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">44</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_COMMON_TERN">THE COMMON TERN.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">47</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#BIRDS_AND_ANIMALS_IN_THE_PHILIPPINES">
BIRDS AND ANIMALS IN THE PHILIPPINES.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">48</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#BIRDS_MENTIONED_IN_THE_BIBLE">
BIRDS MENTIONED IN THE BIBLE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">48</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_PRAIRIE_WOLF">THE PRAIRIE WOLF.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">51</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#A_HOUSEHOLD_PET">A HOUSEHOLD PET.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">52</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_FOX-SQUIRREL">THE FOX-SQUIRREL.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">55</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_LOON">THE LOON.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">59</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_MOCKINGBIRD">THE MOCKINGBIRD.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">61</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_BOBOLINKS_SONG">THE BOBOLINK'S SONG.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">61</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#HOW_BUTTERFLIES_ARE_PROTECTED">
HOW BUTTERFLIES ARE PROTECTED.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">62</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#MID-SUMMER">MID-SUMMER.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">65</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_RED_FOX">THE RED FOX.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">66</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_LEAST_SANDPIPER">THE LEAST SANDPIPER.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">70</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#INSTINCT_AND_REASON">INSTINCT AND REASON.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">73</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_MOUNTAIN_SHEEP">THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">74</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#A_SEMINARY_FOR_TEACHING_BIRDS_HOW_TO_SING">
A SEMINARY FOR TEACHING BIRDS HOW TO SING.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">78</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#SUMMARY">SUMMARY.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">80</td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="NATURES_ADJUSTMENTS" id="NATURES_ADJUSTMENTS"></SPAN>NATURE'S ADJUSTMENTS.</h2>
<p class="ac"><span class="sc">By W. E. Watt.</span></p>
<p>We have a general notion that whatever
Nature does is just right. It has
become an article of popular faith that
the ways of Nature are not to be improved
upon. We feel that he who
proposes something better than what
is offered by the forces of the material
world is by far too presumptious. We
look upon the man who would improve
upon what is natural much as the old
farmer did upon the lightning rod
man. "No, sir; I'd never put a rod
up over my house or barn to keep off
the lightnin'. 'Twould be defyin'
the Almighty. If he wants to strike
me, do you suppose I'm goin' to
appear before Him and say I put that
up to stop him?"</p>
<p>When the qualities of the soil and
conditions of the atmosphere have
been propitious for the production of
husk fiber, we look at the husk upon
the corn or the beard of the wheat
head and declare solemnly to our
friends that the coming winter will be
a severe one. We say that Nature
knows what is about to occur and has
provided for the protection of the
grain. We infer that she has thought
it all out beforehand and we can see
but a small portion of her plans. It
seems never to have occurred to us
that grain left to shift for itself through
the winter is just as well off and little
likely to sustain injury when the husk
is thin as when it is thick.</p>
<p>We examine the fur of the Squirrel
in the fall and say winter will not be
severe because there is not a heavy
coat on the specimen examined. We
think Nature tells the Squirrel in some
mysterious way that there is to be a
light winter and that it will not be
worth while for him to put much
of his summer energy into hair growing,
or that he may as well count on
frisking through the winter in scant
garments because he will not suffer
greatly so attired.</p>
<p>We are oblivious of the fact that the
fur on the Squirrel depends as to its
profusion upon the general health of
the subject and the condition of the
fluids of his system, and that these are
much more influenced by the winter
he last experienced and the food he
has recently had than by the weather
that is to be some months hence.</p>
<p>We frequently speak rapturously of
the mimicry of Nature. The Giraffe
escapes his enemy by appearing to be
a part of a clump of tree trunks, the
Butterfly felicitously reposes upon a
limb with his gaudy colors folded away
and an exterior presented which makes
him appear a veritable dead leaf with
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</SPAN></span>
no tempting juices for the destroying
Bird. But the same Providence which
gave these marvelous powers of mimicry
also gave the other parties the
eyes to see and apparent judgment to
penetrate the mask and secure the
needed meal. And so the ravening
Beast sometimes fastens himself upon
the Giraffe in spite of the disguise and
the Bird finds the Butterfly in his curious
garb.</p>
<p>Those who know least about Nature
are loudest in their praise of her
remarkable adaptations for special ends.
Those who know most about her are
obliged to confess that while her ways
are marvelous indeed and her adaptations
strangely effective and various yet
she does not provide accurately and certainly
for all contingencies.</p>
<p>In fact there is no such thing in
Nature as a perfect adaptation. No
living thing is perfectly protected from
its enemies. No part is accurately
adjusted to the part to which it is
to be applied. The beak and talons
of the Eagle are not perfectly adapted
to flesh tearing. The hoof of the
Arabian Horse is not perfectly adapted
to carrying him over the sands of the
the desert, but the very preservation
of the horse upon the sands requires
that he shall be peculiarly shod to
protect his hoof. No animal that Flies
attack has a tail capable of whisking
them from every part of its body. A
Dog's teeth are beautifully adapted
to many purposes, but he cannot
remove a Tick from his skin. The
Cat has particularly keen sight, adjustable
to all degrees of light. But when
the Ocelot was being photographed for
the July number of <span class="sc">Birds and All
Nature</span> the old Cat that purrs about
the studio was not keen enough to
see that it was a mounted animal. He
came forward in a most belligerent
attitude with glaring eyes and distended
tail. When the artist gave the
stuffed beast a slight motion the affrighted
cat sped down the stairway
and out of the building with the celerity
hitherto entirely unsuspected in him.</p>
<p>There is no eye in Nature that sees
perfectly and no ear that hears all that
is going on. One animal is superior
to others in certain ways, but none is
perfect. All wings are not for flight.
Some are better than others for sweeping
through the air, but perfection is
found in none.</p>
<p>In most animals are found organs
which are not of use. They frequently
resemble organs that are of the highest
utility to some other form of life, but
for the animal in question they are
apparently waste material. When the
Horse uses but one toe of each foot
there seems to be little reason for his
having the rudimentary forms of more.
There are claws on the legs of many
Dogs that have never been called into
action. They are so far from the
ground and so weak and immovable
that the Dog himself does not know
they are there.</p>
<p>In every man there are muscles
beneath the scalp for moving the ear.
We have no such need for ear motion
as have many of the lower animals,
but it is the despair of many a school
boy to discover how few of the race
are able to contract these muscles ever
so slightly.</p>
<p>The Lammergeier, or Bearded Vulture,
is instinctively instructed to
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</SPAN></span>
carry marrow bones and Tortoises high
into the air and drop them upon stones
so as to obtain their contents. Yet he
is not beyond making serious mistakes,
for one of them is said to have taken
the bald head of the great poet
Aeschylus for a smooth stone, dropped
a Tortoise upon it, and secured in lieu
of a luscious meal the lamentable
demise of one of the greatest of men.</p>
<p>A true view of Nature leads us to
regard whatever we find in an organism
not as a perfect instrument to a
given end, but as a remnant of what
may have been produced by desire on the
part of ancestors more or less remote.
Indeed, it has well been said that our
whole body is but a museum of antiquity
of no practical interest, but of great
historical importance. What we find
in ourselves and elsewhere among
living things is not to be regarded as
creations perfectly adapted to given
ends, for there is no perfect adaptation.
Plants and animals are continually
striving for it, but conditions change
more rapidly than they and the chase
is unsuccessful. Perfect adaptation
would be stagnation.</p>
<p>A manifest design of Nature is that
things may live. But death is the
rule and life the exception. Out of a
million seeds but one can grow. All
may make something of a struggle; a
few fortunate individuals thrive. Not
the fittest, but usually some among
those most fit. The whole range of
life from the Bathybius Haeckelii to
the tailless Ape exhibits a grand struggle
for perfect adaptation with a greater
or less failure in store for every individual.
The human race is carrying
on the same enterprise with the same
results. The instant we seem to be
fitted for our environment there comes
a change of affairs that leaves us confronted
with a problem just as interesting
and urgent as the old one we
flattered ourselves we were able to
solve.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="REASONING_POWERS_OF_BIRDS" id="REASONING_POWERS_OF_BIRDS"> </SPAN>REASONING POWERS OF BIRDS.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="93" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THERE is something very remarkable
in the almost reasoning
powers manifested occasionally
by birds in eluding
pursuit or in turning attention from
their nests and young, but in few is
this more noticeable than in the Duck
tribes. In Capt. Black's narrative of
his Arctic land expedition the following
instance of this is given:</p>
<p>"One of his companions, Mr. King,
having shot a female Duck, fired
again, and, as he thought, disabled its
male companion. Accordingly, leaving
the dead bird, which he had the
mortification of seeing shortly afterward
carried off by one of the white-headed
Eagles, he waded into the
water after the drake, which, far from
being fluttered or alarmed, remained
motionless, as if waiting to be taken
up. Still, as he neared it, it glided
easily away through innumerable little
nooks and windings. Several times
he reached out his hand to seize it,
and having at last with great patience
managed to coop it up in a corner,
from which there appeared to be no
escape, he was triumphantly bending
down to take it, when, to his utter
astonishment, it looked around at him,
cried 'Quack!' and then flew away
so strongly that he was convinced he
had never hit it at all. The bird's
object clearly was to draw the gunner
away from its companion."</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_SQUIRRELS_ROAD" id="THE_SQUIRRELS_ROAD"></SPAN>THE SQUIRREL'S ROAD.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">It zigzags through the pastures brown,</div>
<div class="verse">And climbs old Pine Hill to its crown,</div>
<div class="verse">With many a broken stake and rail,</div>
<div class="verse">And gaps where beds of ivy trail.</div>
<div class="verse">In hollows of its mossy top</div>
<div class="verse">The pine-cone and the acorn drop;</div>
<div class="verse">While, here and there, aloft is seen</div>
<div class="verse">A timid, waving plume of green,</div>
<div class="verse">Where some shy seed has taken hold</div>
<div class="verse">With slender roots in moss and mold.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The squirrel, on his frequent trips</div>
<div class="verse">With corn and mast between his lips,</div>
<div class="verse">Glides in and out from rail to rail,</div>
<div class="verse">With ears erect and flashing tail.</div>
<div class="verse">Sometimes he stops, his spoil laid by,</div>
<div class="verse">To frisk and chatter merrily,</div>
<div class="verse">Or wash his little elfin face,</div>
<div class="verse">With many a flirt and queer grimace.</div>
<div class="verse">Anon he scolds a passing crow,</div>
<div class="verse">Jerking his pert tail to and fro,</div>
<div class="verse">Or scurries like a frightened thief</div>
<div class="verse">At shadow of a falling leaf.</div>
<div class="verse">All day along his fence-top road</div>
<div class="verse">He bears his harvest, load by load;</div>
<div class="verse">The acorn with its little hat;</div>
<div class="verse">The butternut, egg-shaped and fat;</div>
<div class="verse">The farmer's corn, from shock and wain;</div>
<div class="verse">Cheek-pouches-full of mealy grain;</div>
<div class="verse">Three-cornered beechnuts, thin of shell;</div>
<div class="verse">The chestnut, burred and armored well;</div>
<div class="verse">And walnuts, with their tight green coats</div>
<div class="verse">Close buttoned round their slender throats.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">A busy little workman he,</div>
<div class="verse">Who loves his task, yet labors free,</div>
<div class="verse">Stops when he wills, to frisk and bark,</div>
<div class="verse">And never drudges after dark!</div>
<div class="verse">I love to hear his chirring cry,</div>
<div class="verse">When rosy sunrise stains the sky,</div>
<div class="verse">And see him flashing in his toil,</div>
<div class="verse">While frost like snow encrusts the soil.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">With tail above his back, he sails</div>
<div class="verse">Along the angles of the rails,</div>
<div class="verse">Content to gain two rods in three,</div>
<div class="verse">And have sure highway from his tree.</div>
<div class="verse">Dear is the old-time squirrel way,</div>
<div class="verse">With mosses green and lichens gray,—</div>
<div class="verse">The straggling fence, that girds the hill,</div>
<div class="verse">And wanders through the pine woods still.</div>
<div class="verse">I loved it in my boyhood time,</div>
<div class="verse">I loved it in my manhood's prime,</div>
<div class="verse">Would in the corn-field I could lie,</div>
<div class="verse">And watch the squirrels zigzag by!</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<span class="sc">James Buckham.</span></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="WILSONS TERN." summary="WILSON'S TERN.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_012.jpg" id="i_012.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_012.jpg" width="600" height="453" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">WILSON'S TERN.<br/>
½ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Copyright by<br/>
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_COMMON_TERN" id="THE_COMMON_TERN"></SPAN>THE COMMON TERN.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_a.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="84" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">ACCORDING to Colonel Goss,
these birds are abundant on
the Atlantic coast, decreasing
in numbers west, and are
rare and exceptional on
the Pacific coast. They are migratory,
arriving from the middle of April to
the first of May, returning as early as
the first of September. Their habitat
is chiefly eastern temperate North
America and various parts of the
eastern hemisphere, breeding irregularly
throughout the range. The nests
have been found from the south coast
of Florida to the Arctic circle, on the
lakes in Wisconsin, and in large
numbers in several of the Magdalen
Isles, Gulf of St. Lawrence. Writers
disagree as to the composition of their
nests, some maintaining that they are
made of seaweeds and grasses, others
that they are without material of any
kind, the eggs lying upon the bare
ground in a slight depression in the
sand. The eggs are three or four, of
a pale blueish or greenish drab, thickly
and rather evenly spotted and blotched
with varying shades of light and dark
brown, with shell markings of pale
lilac, ovate in form.</p>
<p>Mr. George H. Mackay has described
the Terns of Muskeget Island, Massachusetts,
and in a recent article in the
"Auk," he says: "Civilization is
continually encroaching upon the
places along the coast occupied by the
Terns until there remain at the
present time few localities adapted for
such breeding resorts. I visited and
remained on Muskegon Island July 3-5,
1897, and while there made, as has
heretofore been my custom, an
exhaustive examination of all the
breeding grounds of the Terns. I
found on visiting Gravelly Island a
considerable falling off from the status
of June, 1896, in both nests and eggs;
the occupants were also different,
being now almost entirely Common
Terns, its former possessors having to
a large extent abandoned it." Mr.
Mackay has been endeavoring to
protect the Terns from the destructive
encroachments of hunters and so-called
"eggers." He says that this season
the Terns arrived at Muskeget in large
flocks, thousands dropping from the
sky when they were first observed. The
number of young birds was unusually
large, larger than has been before
noticed, which result is probably due
to the protection which has been
extended to them throughout the
breeding season, a condition they have
not before enjoyed.</p>
<p>This Tern enjoys a large assortment
of names: Sea Swallow, Wilson's
Tern, Red Shank, Mackerel Gull, and
Summer Gull, are a few of them by
which it is known in various localities.
In several places on the Atlantic coast
it breeds in company with other
species, such as Forster's, Arctic, and
Roseate Terns, the Laughing Gull,
and others. Here they breed by
thousands, fairly filling the air when
disturbed. They place their nests
all over the land above high water
line, on the beach, on the sides of
the bluffs, and even in the garden
cultivated by the lighthouse keeper.
At Gull Island fresh eggs can be
obtained from the 10th of June to the
middle of July, as egging parties keep
them cleaned off about as fast as they
are laid. Public opinion is rapidly
coming to the rescue of these
beautiful birds, and we may reasonably
hope that they may not be wholly
exterminated. In connection with
this article, we call the reader's
attention to Vol. I, pages 103-104,
where the Black Tern is depicted and
described.</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="BIRDS_AND_ANIMALS_IN_THE_PHILIPPINES" id="BIRDS_AND_ANIMALS_IN_THE_PHILIPPINES"></SPAN>BIRDS AND ANIMALS IN THE PHILIPPINES.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_i.jpg" width-obs="59" height-obs="125" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">I DOUBT if any islands have such
a countless variety of animals
and flying and creeping things
as the Philippines. A stubby
variety of horses, fat and furry
ponies, is used in Manila and towns.
Oxen and a species of Buffaloes are
used for heavy draft purposes. The
mountains teem with deer. Goats,
Swine, Rabbits, and Sheep abound in
the mountains and forests in all degrees
of wildness. The wild hogs on Samar
have sometimes killed natives. There
are several hundred varieties of birds,
and about twenty that are not known
elsewhere. Parrots are more common
in the backwoods than Robins are
here. Among the forests close to the
coasts are found peculiar birds of the
Swallow tribe. They make a strange
food that the Chinese are so fond of—the
bird's nest. Hundreds of natives
earn their sole livelihood by hunting
at certain seasons for these birds' nests
and selling them to the Chinese. Of
Monkeys there are a dozen varieties.
Bats are simply enormous. They are
of the vampire variety. No wonder
there is a vast deal of superstition and
dread among people in the tropics
concerning vampires. They are
frightfully uncanny. I have seen
vampire bats with bodies as large as
common house cats, and with wings
that expand five feet from tip to tip.
Let any one be seated or strolling
along some moonlight night and have
one of those black things come suddenly
swooping down past him, and
he will have some cause for nervous
prostration. I knew one of those Bats
to go sailing into the big hotel dining
room at Manila one evening when
dinner was serving. It came as a horrible
apparition. Some women fainted
and others shrieked as they went
under the tables. The men ran out
of the room.</p>
<p>"The seacoast is rich in many forms
of fish. The natives, like the Hawaiians,
know how to catch them, too.
All the natives in the Philippines
that I ever knew about (except the rich
and aristocratic people in Manila) are
fishers. They catch a species of mullet
there that is delicious. When
these fish come up the coast from the
China Sea in schools, the natives will
abandon any occupation and even
leave a sick hammock to go out and
angle off the coast."</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p>Ornithologists all over the world are
much interested in the great exhibition
of birds about to be opened at St.
Petersburg. It is to be an international
exhibition, in that it is the aim
to exhibit the birds native to every
country of the world. The czar has
placed himself at its head, the Russian
government will assist it with money
and influence, and the European and
other governments which were invited
to take part in the project have replied
favorably. The exhibition has now
assumed such gigantic proportions
that it has been found necessary to
postpone it from the summer of this
year to the summer of next year to
allow as many regions as possible on
the earth to be represented.</p>
<hr class="small" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="BIRDS_MENTIONED_IN_THE_BIBLE" id="BIRDS_MENTIONED_IN_THE_BIBLE"></SPAN> BIRDS MENTIONED IN THE BIBLE.</h2>
<p>Bittern, Cormorant, Cuckoo, Dove,
Eagle, Hawk, Heron, Kite, Lapwing,
Night-hawk, Osprey, Ostrich, Owl—
little and large—Peacock, Pelican,
Quail, Raven, Sparrow, Stork, Swan,
Swallow, and Vulture.</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="COYOTE." summary="COYOTE.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_022.jpg" id="i_022.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_022.jpg" width="456" height="600" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">From col. Mr. F. Kaempfer.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">COYOTE.<br/>
⅙ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Copyright by<br/>
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_PRAIRIE_WOLF" id="THE_PRAIRIE_WOLF"></SPAN>THE PRAIRIE WOLF.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="93" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THIS species is more commonly
known in the western states
by the name Coyote, where it
makes night so hideous that
novices unused to the "unearthly serenade"
feel a dismal longing for other
latitudes. It is in size about half way
between the Red Fox (see p. 67) and
Gray Wolf, of which we shall present
a portrait in a subsequent number.
Its color is similar to that of its larger
relative of the plains, but is of a more
yellowish cast.</p>
<p>The Prairie Wolf is an inhabitant of
the plains and mountains west of the
Missouri river, and is said to be found
from the British possessions south into
Mexico, whence it derived its common
name, Coyote. It was formerly very
numerous, but the increase of population
and the disposition to hunt and
destroy it, have greatly reduced its
numbers. The Bison, which was
formerly its prey, having become
almost extinct, its food supply has been
largely cut off. These Wolves subsist
on any refuse they can pick up,
and are always found on the outskirts
of settlements or forts, slinking here
and there, eking out what subsistence
they may by snatching any stray
morsels of food that come in their way.
In the southern portion of its range,
the Coyote is a miserable cur, scarcely
larger than the common Fox.</p>
<p>While this Wolf is an arrant
coward, it sometimes exhibits a good
deal of sagacity. Near the south coast
of San Francisco a farmer had been
much annoyed by the loss of his Chickens.
His Hounds had succeeded in
capturing several of the marauding
Coyotes, but one fellow constantly
eluded the pursuers by making for the
coast or beach, where all traces of him
would be lost. On one occasion the
farmer divided his pack of Hounds and
with two or three of the Dogs took a
position near the shore. The Wolf
soon approached the ocean with the
other detachment of hounds in close
pursuit. It was observed that as the
waves receded from the shore he
would follow them as closely as possible,
and made no foot prints in the
sand that were not quickly obliterated
by the swell. When at last he had
gone far enough, as he supposed, to
destroy the scent, he turned inland.</p>
<p>Although members of the Dog tribe,
Wolves are held in utter abhorrence
by domesticated Dogs. The stronger
pursue to destroy them, the weaker fly
from them in terror. In the earlier part
of English history Wolves are frequently
mentioned as a common and
dreaded pest. They are still found
in parts of France, Russia, and the
whole of western Asia. They are
very wary and dislike approaching
anything resembling a trap. While
the Coyotes possess almost identically
the same characteristics as other
Wolves, man has no reason to dread
them unless he meets them in hungry
packs. Whoever has had the misfortune
to have once been serenaded by
these midnight prowlers can well
understand the grudge every man in
camp bears them. As soon as the
camp is silent these beasts of prey
prowl in small companies about the
low shrubbery which surrounds the
camp attracted by the appetizing smell
of the campers' supper. The half
jubilant long-drawn howl of the Coyote
is soon followed by all the available
vocal talent of his species in the vicinity,
to the intense disgust of all
creation except themselves.</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="A_HOUSEHOLD_PET" id="A_HOUSEHOLD_PET"></SPAN>A HOUSEHOLD PET.</h2>
<p>He was named "Bushy" on
account of his tail; no Squirrel,
I am sure, ever had a finer one.
He lived in a cage at first, but
the door was always left open,
so that Bushy did not feel he
was a captive at all. He took
great pleasure in running up the
lace curtains of the drawing-room
windows, upon the cornices
of which he spent a great deal
of his time, always taking his
nuts up there to eat. At length
he concluded to give up his cage
and live up there altogether.
He would build a nest, but
where to find the twigs, wool, and
feathers for it sorely puzzled
Mr. Squirrel.</p>
<p>One day he scampered up to
the top of the house, and in the
attic found some cast-off finery
of the housemaid. It was hard
work for the little fellow to
carry a night-cap, or an old
pocket handkerchief, or an old
stocking in his mouth down two
sets of stairs, but it was the
best material he could find, and
Bushy was determined to build
a nest. As well as he could, he
jumped from one step to another
all the way, with his mouth full,
at one time a yard or more of
ribbon streaming behind him.
In this his feet got entangled,
tumbling him over and over, so
he stopped and with his fore-paws
neatly packed it into his
mouth before going further.
Sometimes, after all his hard
work, Bushy would find the
dining-room door closed, so he
would have to sit outside very
patiently till it was opened.
The moment he was admitted,
up the curtain he would climb
with his material, often dropping
it two or three times before
reaching the top. It was a very
wide, old-fashioned cornice, with
a great space behind, and here
the nest was built. The old
caps, ribbons, and odds and ends
were woven into a very large,
long-shaped nest, lined with bits
of the dining-room door-mat on
which he had been so often
compelled to wait. At last all
was finished, and Bushy moved
up into his new house, never
again sleeping in his cage.
During the day he would descend
for his food, which he carried
up to his house to eat, then down
again to frisk and play about. I
am sure Bushy's master was
very glad he left the cage door
open, for how could the little
fellow have shown such intelligence,
or been happy, cooped up
behind wires all day long?</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="FOX SQUIRREL." summary="FOX SQUIRREL.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_028.jpg" id="i_028.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_028.jpg" width="600" height="486" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">FOX SQUIRREL.<br/>
5/9 Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Copyright by<br/>
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_FOX-SQUIRREL" id="THE_FOX-SQUIRREL"></SPAN>THE FOX-SQUIRREL.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_h.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="84" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">H ALLOCK states that the
migrations of Squirrels have
never been satisfactorily explained.
What instinct,
he asks, brings together
such immense droves of these animals
from all parts of the country and causes
them to move with solid phalanx
to distant localities, overcoming all
opposing obstacles? A few years since
there was witnessed a wonderful sight
by inhabitants of Pike County, Pa.
An immense army of Squirrels arrived
at the banks of the Delaware river late
one night, and commenced its passage
by swimming the next morning. The
whole population turned out, and boys
and men equipped with large grain
sacks and clubs killed them by
thousands. They kept coming in a
continuous stream throughout the
morning, and passed on to the woods
beyond. Nothing could deflect them
from their course, and they were
evidently bound for a fixed point. A
similar instance occurred some twenty-five
years ago, where a vast assemblage
crossed the Mississippi. While these
migrations are obviously caused by a
scarcity of food, it probably is not the
only motive which induces them to
undertake long journeys. The southern
Fox Squirrel inhabits the Southern
States from North Carolina to Texas.
It is the largest and finest of our North
American Squirrels. Its color is
oftenest gray above and white below,
but it is also found of all shades of
fulvous, and sometimes a deep shining
black; its ears and nose are always
white. The Western Fox Squirrel
occurs in the Mississippi valley; its
color is a rusty grey, and its ears and
nose are never white.</p>
<p>Squirrels feed in the early morning,
and disappear from eight to nine
o'clock, remaining in their holes during
the mid-day hours. They appear
again in the late afternoon to feed.
During the early morning and late
evening the hunter secures his prey.
The little fellows are very shy, but one
may seat himself in full view and if
he remains without motion little
notice will be taken of him by the
Squirrels. The season for hunting
them is in fall and winter, although
a great many are taken in August
when young and tender.</p>
<p>An important factor in the pursuit
of this animal is the small Cur-dog
trained for the purpose. He will run
ahead through bush and wood, tree a
Squirrel, and after barking sharply,
wait for the master to put in an
appearance. A Squirrel thus treed
will run up the trunk a short distance,
and curling himself down on a limb,
will watch his canine pursuer, unmindful
of the approach of the two-legged
animal bearing a gun. When quite
young and inexperienced, a good bag
can sometimes be made without a Dog.
They are very skillful in secreting
themselves from view, when treed by
the hunter, but the presence of the
Dog seems to utterly upset all calculations
of concealment, for knowing the
inability of the Cur to do them harm
they will sit on a limb and not attempt
to hide. The cruel method of smoking
out, as practiced by the farmers' sons
in winter, when the Squirrels are
snugly curled up in their nests will not
be described in this article.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Squirrels vary in size and
color according to the country
in which they live. In Asia
there is a Squirrel no larger
than a Mouse, and in Africa
there is one larger than a Cat.</p>
<p>I am a North American Squirrel,
one of the "common" family,
as they say. I eat all sorts of
vegetables and fruits, as well as
Mice, small Birds and eggs. I
choose my mate in February or
April, go to housekeeping like
the birds, and raise a family
of from three to nine little baby
Squirrels.</p>
<p>Some of my little readers have
seen me, perhaps, or one of my
family, frisking among the
branches, or running up and
down the trunks of trees. My
enemy the Hawk gets after me
sometimes, and then I run up
the tree "like a Squirrel," and
hide behind one of the large
branches, going from one to
another till I tire him out.</p>
<p>Squirrels have to be "cunning
as a Fox," as they say. When
pursued—and oh, how often we
are, by men and boys, as well as
Hawks—we leap from branch
to branch, or from tree to tree,
altering our direction while in
the air, our tails acting as
rudders. At last we are driven
into a solitary tree, so that we
cannot leap into the branches of
another. Then a boy or man
climbs up, tries to shake us
from the limb, and at length
succeeds in knocking us to the
ground. Off we run again, give
them a long chase, perhaps,
but at last are caught, and
probably carried home to be
kept in a cage like a little
prisoner, or maybe in a stuffy
wooden box. How can we be
happy or playful under such
circumstances? I think it is a
great shame to put any animal,
bird or otherwise, in a <i>little</i> cage;
don't you?</p>
<p>There are men who make a
business of selling Squirrels for
household pets. If you want a
young Squirrel—and nobody
wants to buy an <i>old</i> one—look
at its teeth; if young, they will
be almost white; if old, a light
yellow.</p>
<p>"Oh, mama," cried Dorothy
one day, "do look at this dear
little tame Squirrel the good
man wants to sell. See how
tame it is. It will let me stroke
it, and never tries to bite."</p>
<p>Mama, who desired her
children to have four-footed, as
well as two-footed friends,
bought the tame squirrel for
her little girl. Alas! the <i>good</i>
man had dosed the poor little
animal with laudunum to keep
it quiet. It died the next day.</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="LOON." summary="LOON.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_034.jpg" id="i_034.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_034.jpg" width="600" height="455" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">LOON.<br/>
2/9 Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Copyright by<br/>
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_LOON" id="THE_LOON"></SPAN>THE LOON.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_i.jpg" width-obs="59" height-obs="125" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">IN ALL the lakes of the fur
countries, says Nuttall, these
birds abound, where, as well as
in the interior of the most
northern of the states, and
probably in the inland seas of the St.
Lawrence, along the whole Canadian
line, they pass the period of reproduction.
This species is the most common
of its tribe in the United States
and is a general inhabitant of cold
and temperate climates throughout the
whole northern hemisphere. They
have been known to breed as far south
as the Farne Isles, along with the
Eider Ducks, with which they also associate
on the shores of Labrador. In
the United States from the severity of
the winters, the young and even
occasionally the old, are seen to migrate
nearly, if not quite, to the estuary
of the Mississippi.</p>
<p>Cautious, vigilant, and fond of the
security attending upon solitude, the
Loon generally selects, with his mate,
some lonely islet, on the borders of a
retired lake far from the haunts of men,
where, on the ground, near the water,
they build a rude and grassy nest.
The Loons are, from the nature of
their food, which consists almost
wholly of fish, utterly rank and unedible,
though in New England the following
receipt is given for cooking
one of the birds: Having dressed your
Loon, stuff it with an iron wedge,
then bake or boil. When you can
stick a fork into the wedge the bird is
ready for the table.</p>
<p>It is chiefly remarkable for the
quickness with which it can dive,
many observers maintaining that it
can dodge a bullet or shot by diving
at the flash of the gun. Mr. W. H.
Porteous states that he once watched
a man for more than an hour fire
repeatedly at a Loon on a pond in
Maine, the bird being frozen in by
thin ice, a small circular space being
kept open by its movements. The ice
was not strong enough to sustain the
man and the open space not large
enough to enable the bird to swim and
rise, as a Loon cannot rise in flight
from a stationary position in the water.
The Loon dodged every shot, by diving,
although within easy gunshot
range from the shore. It was not
killed until the next morning, when
the ice had become strong enough to
permit the man to go close up to the
open space and shoot when the Loon
came to the surface. "Under the
circumstances," adds Mr. Porteous, "I
think the man ought to have been
shot instead of the Loon."</p>
<p>"In the fall," says Thoreau, "the
Loon came, as usual, to moult and
bathe in the pond, making the woods
ring with his wild laughter before I
had risen. At rumor of his arrival all
the mill-dam sportsmen are on the
alert, in gigs and on foot, two by two
and three by three, with patent rifles
and conical balls and spy glasses.
They come rustling through the woods
like autumn leaves, at least ten men
to one loon. Some station themselves
on this side of the pond, some on that
for the poor bird cannot be omnipresent;
if he dive here he must come up
there. But now the kind October
wind raises, rustling the surface of
the water, so that no loon can be heard
or seen. The waves generously rise
and dash angrily, taking sides with all
water-fowl, and our sportsman must
beat a retreat to town and shop and
unfinished jobs. But they were too
often successful.</p>
<p>As I was paddling along the north
shore one very calm October afternoon,
for such days especially they settle on
the lakes, like the milkweed down,
a Loon, suddenly sailing out from the
shore toward the middle a few rods in
front of me, set up his wild laugh and
betrayed himself. I pursued with a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</SPAN></span>
paddle and he dived, but when he
came up I was nearer than before.
He dived again, but I miscalculated
the direction he would take, and we
were fifty rods apart when he came to
surface this time, for I had helped to
widen the interval; and again he
laughed long and loud, and with more
reason than before. He maneuvered
so cunningly that I could not get
within half a dozen rods of him. Each
time, when he came to the surface,
turning his head this way and that, he
coolly surveyed the water and the
land, and apparently chose his course
so that he might come up where there
was the widest expanse of water and
at the greatest distance from the boat.
It was surprising how quickly he made
up his mind and put his resolve into
execution. He led me at once to the
widest part of the pond, and could not
be driven from it. While he was
thinking one thing, I was endeavoring
to divine his thought. It was a pretty
game, played on the smooth surface of
the pond, man against a Loon. Some
times he would come up unexpectedly
on the other side of me, having apparently
passed directly under the boat.
So long-winded was he and so unweariable,
that when he had swum
farthest he would immediately plunge
again, nevertheless; and then no wit
could divine where in the deep pond
he might be speeding his way like a
fish, for he had time and ability to
visit the bottom of the pond in its
deepest part. It is said Loons have
been caught in the New York lakes
eighty feet beneath the surface, with
hooks set for trout. I found that it
was as well for me to rest on my oars
and wait his reappearing; for again
and again, when I was straining my
eyes over the surface one way, I would
be startled by his unearthly laugh
behind me. He was indeed a silly
Loon, I thought, for why, after displaying
so much cunning did he betray
himself the moment he came up by
that loud laugh? Did not his white
breast enough betray him? It was
surprising to see how serenely he
sailed off with unruffled breast when
he came to the surface, doing all the
work with his webbed feet beneath.
His usual note was this demoniac
laughter, yet somewhat like that of a
water-fowl; but occasionally when he
had balked me most successfully and
he came up a long way off, he uttered
a long-drawn, unearthly howl, probably
more like that of a Wolf than any
bird. This was his looning, perhaps
the wildest sound that is ever heard
here, making the woods ring far and
wide. At length, having come up
fifty rods off, he uttered one of those
prolonged howls, as if calling on the
Gods of Loons to aid him, and immediately
there came a wind from the
east, rippled the surface, and filled the
whole air with misty rain. And so I
left him disappearing far away on the
tumultuous surface."</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_MOCKINGBIRD" id="THE_MOCKINGBIRD"></SPAN>THE MOCKINGBIRD.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_w.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="68" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">WISHING to verify a statement
which we had seen
in a contemporary, we
wrote to Mr. R. F. Bettis,
of Tampa, Florida, requesting, if it
were true, that he would confirm it,
although, from our acquaintance with
the bird, we had no doubt of its substantial
correctness. In response Mr.
Bettis writes us as follows:</p>
<p>"Yours of June 24 received. Will
say in regard to the Mockingbird, I
live one and one fourth miles north of
the courthouse in Tampa. I have a
lot containing two acres of land, and it
is grown up in live and water oak
bushes which are very dense in foliage.
It is a fine place for birds to nest
and raise young. I do not allow any
one to shoot or destroy the birds on
my place, and it doesn't take the birds
long to find out a place where they are
protected. I think there are about
twenty-five or thirty Mocking birds on
my place, and they become very tame.</p>
<p>About two years ago one of the birds
took to coming into the house, and
sitting on the chairs and warbling in a
low tone, and my wife and children
began to talk to it and put bread
crumbs on the window sill for it, and
it soon began to come for something
to eat. It would sit on the trellis in
front of the window and sing for hours
at a time, and on moonlight nights
would sit on the chimney and sing for
half the night. * * *</p>
<p>It would recognize the family, and
when my wife and daughter would go
from home, it would fly along and
alight on the fence and give a chirping
noise as though it did not want
them to go, and on their return would
meet them the same way, but the
chirping would be in a different
tone, as though glad to see them.
When they were in the house it would
sing some of the sweetest notes that
ever came from a bird's throat. Every
morning at about 5 o'clock it would peck
on the window pane until we got up
and opened up the house. About six
months ago while all the family were
away some Cuban and negro boys
came by my place and shot it, and it
seems as if something were missing
from the place ever since. But I have
three more that will come in on the
back porch and eat crumbs. Two are
on the back porch now about fifteen
feet from me while I write, but they
are not as gentle as the other one.
There has been so much shooting
about my place since the soldiers came
that it frightens the birds some. The
soldiers have a sham battle every day,
around my house and sometimes in
my yard.</p>
<p>Hoping you can cull out of this
what you want for your magazine,
I am</p>
<p><span class="ml70">Yours truly,</span><br/>
<span class="pl85 sc">R. F. Bettis."</span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_BOBOLINKS_SONG" id="THE_BOBOLINKS_SONG"></SPAN>THE BOBOLINK'S SONG.</h2>
<p>Suddenly from the dead weed stalks
in the draw, where the Blackbirds had
sung yesterday, there broke forth the
most rollicking, tinkling, broken-up,
crushed-glass kind of bird melody that
he had ever heard—something in perfect
accord with his mood again; and looking
up he saw a flock of black and
white birds all mingled in, some plain,
streaked, sparrow-like kinds—the
former given to the utmost abandon of
music. He had seen these birds before
occasionally, but he never knew their
names, and now he found there was
more he had not known, for he had
heard the Bobolink sing for the first
time.—<i>From Baskett's "At You All's
House."</i></p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="HOW_BUTTERFLIES_ARE_PROTECTED" id="HOW_BUTTERFLIES_ARE_PROTECTED"></SPAN> HOW BUTTERFLIES ARE PROTECTED.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_i.jpg" width-obs="59" height-obs="125" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">IN the July number of <span class="sc">Birds and
All Nature</span> we quoted from
an interesting article in the
<i>Boston Transcript</i> some information
concerning the commercial
aspect of Butterflies. From this study
of the remarkable collection of the
Denton Brothers of Wellesley, we
print another extract, which will
indicate to our readers something of
what they may expect to see in future
numbers of <span class="sc">Birds</span>, as it is our purpose
to present all of the remarkable
specimens of these insects. Some of
our Subscribers tell us that they would
rather have the pictures than the
specimens themselves. In an early
number we shall present a picture of
the wonderful Butterfly Crœsus. It is
an inhabitant of India, and even there
is rarely seen and difficult to secure.
It is of deep dead black, with broad
splotches on the wings, which are exactly
the color of new, untarnished gold, its
name being given it for this characteristic.
But, as the <i>Transcript</i> says,
"perhaps the most interesting thing
in looking over the Dentons' collection
is to have them explain the wonderful
ways in which they are protected
from their natural enemies, the birds.
Perhaps the most remarkable instance
of the way in which this is done is
the leaf butterfly, a native of India.
The upper side of this insect's wings
has the characteristically brilliant
coloring of its country, but the under
side is of a dull brown, the significance
of which is not seen until the insect
alights and closes its wings. When
it is in this position it has exactly the
appearance, in shape and color, of a
dead leaf, and this is so exact that
even the little dark spots caused by
decaying fungi on the leaves are
reproduced.</p>
<p>"What is most wonderful of all is
that these spots vary, and in different
specimens have the appearance of
different kinds of fungi, the imitation
being invariably a perfect one.</p>
<p>"This characteristic is to be seen in
nearly all kinds of butterflies, the
under side of the wings of the most
brilliantly colored species being of a
dull color which does not readily
attract attention. Almost the only
variation to this is in certain species
which ordinarily carry their wings
erect, and droop them when they
alight. In these the brilliant coloring
is on the under side of the wing, and
the dull color on the upper side.
Perhaps the most remarkable single
case known is that of a certain Indian
moth, which is a heavy flyer, and
found in the woods. When this moth
alights, it leaves only the tip of its
wings sticking out of the leaves, and
this tip, in marking, color, and
attitude, has exactly the appearance
of the head of a cobra. The same
general scheme may be observed in
our native moths, and also in most
other heavy flyers, in the sharply
defined round markings, one on each
wing. These have the appearance of
an eye of some good-sized animal, and
keep many birds from making any
closer investigation.</p>
<p>"Another interesting instance of
of the self-protecting instinct is found
here in the habits of some kinds of
our native butterflies. Some of these
are naturally protected by having so
strong and unpleasant taste that the
birds will not eat them. The habits
of these kinds are imitated by other
kinds that have a strong resemblance
to them, but which are not naturally
protected, and this is so successfully
done that the birds let them alone and
prey upon other varieties that have
just as strong a resemblance to, but
do not imitate the actions of the
protected ones."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="BUTTERFLIES." summary="BUTTERFLIES.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_045.jpg" id="i_045.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_045.jpg" width="458" height="600" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Papilio asterias.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">Grapta coma.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Papilio rutulus.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Catopsilia argante.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">BUTTERFLIES.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Papilio lycimenus.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Papilio ajax.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">⅚ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Papilio macrosilaus.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="MID-SUMMER" id="MID-SUMMER"></SPAN>MID-SUMMER.</h2>
<p class="ac">The hills are sweet with the brier-rose.—<span class="sc">
Whittier.</span></p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p class="ac">Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brier.—<span class="sc">
Edmund Spencer.</span></p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p class="ac">As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.—
<span class="sc">Keats.</span></p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p class="ac">What mortal knows Whence comes the tint and odor of the rose.—
<span class="sc">Thomas Bailey Aldrich.</span></p>
<hr class="w5" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">The rose saith in the dewy morn,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">I am most fair;</div>
<div class="verse">Yet all my loveliness is born</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">Upon a thorn.—
<span class="sc">Christina G. Rossetti.</span></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="w5" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">The roses grew so thickly, I never saw the thorn,</div>
<div class="verse">Nor deemed the stem was prickly until my hand was torn.—
<span class="sc">Peter Spencer.</span></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="w5" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Gather ye rosebuds while you may,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">Old Time is still a-flying;</div>
<div class="verse">And this same flower that smiles to-day</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">To-morrow will be dying.—<span class="sc">
Herrick.</span></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="w5" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">If this fair rose offend thy sight,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">Placed in thy bosom bare,</div>
<div class="verse">'Twill blush to find itself less white,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">And turn Lancastrian there.—<span class="sc">
Unknown.</span></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="w5" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,</div>
<div class="verse">Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows,</div>
<div class="verse">Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,</div>
<div class="verse">With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.—<span class="sc">
Shakespeare.</span></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="w5" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;</div>
<div class="verse">The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.—
<span class="sc">Scott.</span></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="w5" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">My life is like the summer rose</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">That opens to the morning sky,</div>
<div class="verse">But ere the shades of evening close,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">Is scattered on the ground—to die!</div>
<div class="verse">Yet on the rose's humble bed</div>
<div class="verse indent-1_5">The sweetest dews of night are shed.—
<span class="sc">Richard Henry Wilde.</span></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_RED_FOX" id="THE_RED_FOX"></SPAN>THE RED FOX.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_e.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="80" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">EXCEPT in South America and
Australia, Foxes are distributed
over all the great continents.
There are known
to be between twenty-five and thirty
species. They differ from the dog
family in the greater sharpness of the
nose and the greater length and
bushiness of the tail.</p>
<p>The Red Fox of eastern North
America is closely allied to the
common Fox of Europe, and is
regarded by many naturalists as only
a variety of the common species, an
opinion which is somewhat confirmed
by the fact that no remains of the Red
Fox have been found in the cave
deposits, although remains of the
Grey Fox have been. It is larger
than the common Fox of Europe, the
fur longer and softer, and the color
more brilliant. It is said that it does
not possess the wind of the English
Fox. It runs for about a hundred
yards with great swiftness, but its
strength is exhausted in the first
burst, and it is soon overtaken by a
Wolf or a mounted horseman. In
Canada and the United States it is
largely hunted for its valuable fur,
many thousands of skins being
annually exported. The Fox is
exceedingly shy and difficult of
approach, owing probably to the
persistency with which it is hunted
by the fur traders. Only the Red and
Grey Foxes are hunted. There are
several permanent colors of this species
similar to those found in our Squirrels,
the young presenting a variety of
colors in the same litter. In Ohio and
others of the middle states, Foxes are
said to be hunted as follows: On an
appointed day, the whole of the
population of the neighborhood turn
out and inclose as large a tract
of country as possible, all hands
leisurely advancing toward some
point near the center of the circle;
as they advance a great noise is
made that the game may be driven
before them. When the circle is
quite small, and the Foxes are seen
running about looking for an opening
by which to escape, small boys are
sent in with directions to catch the
animals, a task which is not accomplished
without much exertion and
perhaps a few bites. When a Fox is
caught, it is sold to pay the expenses
of the hunt.</p>
<p>Fox hunting as practised in England
was transported to this country as
early as the middle of the eighteenth
century. In the mother country it is
one of the greatest pleasures accorded
to the titled gentry; the Horses are
bred for the purpose, and a first-class
hunter commands a large price. Many
Virginia planters of leisure and means
were accustomed before the Civil War
to keep a number of Hounds, and with
the best riders of the neighboring
county, frequently held their "meets,"
when, with horn and whipper-in, and
all other accompaniments, according
to true English Fox-hunting rules,
they would start Reynard and follow
him to the death. The wealthy and
leisure class of New York pursue the
sport in true English style in many
places on Long Island.</p>
<p>When pursued, the Fox gives out a
strong, disagreeable scent, which lies
so long on the ground that it may be
perceived for nearly an hour after he
has passed. Of its cunning when
pursued, many tales are related, such
as driving another Fox out of its lair
and forcing it to substitute itself as
the chase; diving into a heap of
manure, to throw the dogs off the
scent; fording streams, doubling on
its track, and so forth.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="AMERICAN RED FOX." summary="AMERICAN RED FOX.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_050.jpg" id="i_050.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_050.jpg" width="600" height="455" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">From col. Mr. F. Kaempfer.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">AMERICAN RED FOX.<br/>
⅕ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Copyright by<br/>
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Like the Squirrels, Foxes vary
in size and color according to
the countries in which they
live. Their habits are mostly
nocturnal, that is to say, they
prowl around after dark.</p>
<p>By day the Fox lies concealed
in his burrow—if he owns a
house of that sort—or else in the
depths of some thicket. Toward
evening he goes out in search of
something to eat—Hare, Rabbit,
Pheasant, Mouse, or Bird.</p>
<p>Reynard, as the Fox is often
called, does not attempt to chase
the Hare, for it would be too
swift for him, nor the Rabbit,
for it would quickly dive into
its hole, nor the Pheasant, for it
would fly away. No, indeed!
Mr. Fox is too cunning for that.
He just quietly creeps to some
place where Hares or Rabbits
or Pheasants are likely to pass,
and then as they run by him,
out he pounces and secures his
evening meal.</p>
<p>When the Rabbit has a nest
full of little "Bunnies," she
takes good care to keep them at
the end of the burrow. It is too
small for the Fox to creep into,
so she thinks they are safe. But
Mr. Fox finds a way, a much
better way, he thinks, to get at
the little, soft, furry things,
which will hardly make him a
meal anyway. He sniffs around,
locates the spot right above the
the burrow, digs downward, and
soon—well, when he gets through
there are no "Bunnies" in the
nest. Mr. Fox smiles, winks
one eye, and trots off.</p>
<p>Sometimes he steals into a
hen-roost, and woe to nearly every
chicken in the roost. He eats
all he can, carries some of them
home, and the remainder he
buries for future use.</p>
<p>"Cunning as a Fox." That
is an old saying, you know, and
we apply it to persons who take
advantage of their fellow beings.</p>
<p>However, no matter how great
a rascal the Fox is, we must pity
him when pursued for "sport"
by a pack of hounds, as well
as men and women. When
irritated or alarmed, the Fox
gives off a strong, disagreeable
scent, which lies so long on the
ground that it may be perceived
for nearly an hour after he has
passed. He has been known to
dive into a heap of manure to
throw the dogs off the scent;
jumping over a wall, run a little
way, come back again, lie under
the wall until all the dogs had
passed, then leap a second time
over the same place where he
had passed before, and make off
on his old track.</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_LEAST_SANDPIPER" id="THE_LEAST_SANDPIPER"></SPAN>THE LEAST SANDPIPER.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="93" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THIS lively, social little Sandpiper
is common throughout
America, nesting in the Arctic
regions. It is migratory,
arriving the last of March to the first
of May, a few occasionally remaining
till November. It has been found
breeding as far south as Sable Island,
Nova Scotia, but its usual breeding
grounds are north from Labrador and
Alaska to Greenland, wintering from
California and the Gulf states southward.
It is more restless and active
than the larger Sandpipers, but in
habits it differs little, if any, from
them. It runs nimbly about, often
with the large waders, feeding around
and beneath them, apparently heedless
of danger. While watching the birds,
they will often pass close to the feet,
but at the least motion the whole
flock will spring into the air "like a
flash, with a startled <i>Peep, peep</i>, and
in a compact form swiftly sweep about
in an uncertain manner, canting from
side to side, showing rapidly the
white beneath and the dark above, a
wavy, pretty sight, the white at times
fairly glistening in the sunlight."
When migrating or going any distance
their flight is steady and direct.
Audubon, who observed the breeding
habits of the birds in Labrador, says
that at all periods, excepting those at
which they have nests containing
eggs, or young so small and feeble as
to require all the care of their parents,
the flight of this species resembles that
of the Common Snipe (see <span class="sc">Birds</span>,
Vol. IV., page 7); but when started
from the nest, or from any place
in the immediate vicinity, it rises
and moves off low over the ground,
with deeply incurved wings, and with
a whirling motion thereof, which, if
as rapid as those of a Partridge, would
appear quite similar, but on such
occasions the Lesser Sandpiper moves
slowly, and instead of uttering the
note of independence, as it were,
which it emits at other times, while
freely and fearlessly traveling, it gives
out sounds weakened by grief or
anxiety, for the purpose of inducing
the observers to follow it. If on the
ground, it acts in a similar manner,
moves off slowly, and limping as if
crippled, and this at times quite as
much as if one had come upon it
while on its nest, or surprised it with
its young.</p>
<p>The Sandpiper's nest is placed on
the ground in a slight depression,
scantily lined with leaves and grasses.
The eggs are three or four, of ground
color cream buff to light drab, spotted
and blotched irregularly with varying
shades of brown, thickest about the
larger end.</p>
<p>The Least Sandpiper is always found
associated with the Semi-palmated
Sandpiper, which in the later summer
throng our shores and form staple
sport to the youthful and city tyros.
Flocks of birds are often composed of
both species. When this is the case,
the latter, even if largely in the
minority, take the lead, as they are of
somewhat larger size, stronger in
flight, and have a louder note. When
not in company with other species,
none of our shore birds are more
confiding and unsuspecting than these,
says Davie, large flocks continuing
their search for food almost under the
feet of the observer.</p>
<p>The black and white outlines which
are often seen of this bird make it
possible, perhaps, to recognize it, but
the perfect likeness which we present
will enable the observer to distinguish
it at a glance from all others of the
family, of which there are about a
dozen well-known species.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="LEAST SANDPIPER." summary="LEAST SANDPIPER.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_056.jpg" id="i_056.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_056.jpg" width="600" height="451" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">LEAST SANDPIPER.<br/>
Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Copyright by<br/>
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="INSTINCT_AND_REASON" id="INSTINCT_AND_REASON"></SPAN>INSTINCT AND REASON.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_i.jpg" width-obs="59" height-obs="125" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">IN a recent issue of the New York
<i>Evening Post</i>, Caroline H. Dall
writes interestingly on this
subject as follows:</p>
<p>"I wish to draw the attention
of such of your readers as are interested
in the discussion of the nature of
instinct, to a curious example of it, as
distinct from reason, which I have
lately witnessed.</p>
<p>"Entering the parlor of a friend the
other day, my attention was instantly
attracted to a Florida Mockingbird.
He was flying about in an eager
manner, with something like a long
black straw in his bill. My friend
entering, I asked: 'What is your
bird doing?' 'Building a nest,' she
answered. 'Has he a mate?' 'No,
he has never had one,' she replied,
'nor has he ever seen a nest. That
black straw is a shaving of whalebone
which lasts him better than anything
else.' At this moment the bird flew
into a corner of the cage, and, stooping,
dropped the whalebone, waited a
moment as if for some response, and
then flew away to repeat the manœvre.</p>
<p>"'Does he not want something soft?'
I asked. 'I sometimes give him yarn
or wool; he tears it all up, works it all
over, and then carries it to that corner.
He evidently thinks it his duty to
provide material, but he does not
undertake to use it.' 'And what will
he do next?' I asked. 'He will, after
a day or two, brood over that corner,
sitting close and spreading his wings
out as broadly as possible. He does
this two or three times a day.' 'And
after that?' 'Later the paternal instinct
seems to be aroused in a different
way. He goes to his food cup, takes
some food in his mouth, and drops it
into his corner. He repeats this several
times, as if he were feeding his young.
I do not know how many young birds
he ought to expect, but I should like
to know, to see if he counts right!'</p>
<p>"I have sometimes known a male
canary to build a nest in the spring,
carrying the process nearer to completion,
but I have never heard of an
instance like this, and think it may
interest others than myself."</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p>In spite of all the efforts that have
been made in the interests of common
sense and common humanity, there
appears to be no doubt that the savage
and indiscriminate slaughter of all
birds of bright plumage is still going
on for the gratification of feminine
vanity. Indeed, the position of the
unfortunate birds possessing the fatal
gift of beauty seems to be worse than
ever. There was sold the other day in
London a consignment of nearly half a
million birds, or parts of birds, as
follows: Osprey plumes, 11,352 ounces;
Vulture plumes, 186 pounds; Peacock
feathers, 215,051 bundles; Birds of
Paradise, 2,362 bundles; Indian Parrots,
228,289 bundles; Bronze Pigeons,
including the Goura, 1,677 bundles;
Tanagers and sundry birds, 38,198
bundles; Humming birds, 116,490
bundles; Jays and Kingfishers, 48,759
bundles; Impeyan and other jungle
fowl, 4,952 bundles; Owls and Hawks,
7,163 bundles. In one of the most
widely circulated English papers the
fashionable news from Paris begins:
"Birds are worn more than ever, and
blouses made entirely of feathers are
coming into fashion." "Rare tropical
feathers," ordered by specialists from
abroad, are specified as those most
likely to be in demand, but no bird of
any kind is safe that has a feather
capable of being used for feminine
decoration.</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_MOUNTAIN_SHEEP" id="THE_MOUNTAIN_SHEEP"></SPAN>THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_b.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="100" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">BIGHHORN is the name by
which this interesting
animal is chiefly known
to western people, it being
found in greater or less
abundance from the Missouri River
to the Pacific Ocean. It also occurs
in New Mexico, Arizona, and Southern
California, but it has not been discovered
in any numbers south of
the United States. It is more numerous
in the Rocky Mountains, the
Sierra Nevada Mountains, and the
Coast Range, but it is by no means
confined to the mountains, being also
numerous along the <i>Mauvaises Terres</i>
or the "Bad Lands" of the White
River, the Little Missouri, Yellowstone,
and Upper Missouri, in whose
desolate and arid wastes it apparently
delights. The Bighorn, in fact, finds
in every rough country sufficient for
its requirements, and it demands only
that there shall be steep and difficult
heights to which it may retreat when
pursued. Every species of sheep
would prefer a hilly habitat, but the
Bighorn could scarcely exist on a
level plain.</p>
<p>Somebody has said that Mountain
Sheep would be aptly described as
having the head of a sheep with the
body of a deer. In size, however, it
exceeds the largest deer, and a full-grown
specimen will weigh from 300
to 350 pounds. Sir John Richardson
gives the following measurements of
an old male: Length to end of tail,
6 feet; height at shoulder, 3 feet 5
inches; length of tail, 2 inches; length
of horn along the curve, 2 feet 10
inches; circumference of horn at the
base, 1 foot 1 inch; distance from top
of one horn to top of its fellow, 2 feet
3 inches. The coat is soft to the
touch, the hair resembling that of the
Caribou Deer, and, in some degree,
that of the Antelope. It is short, fine,
and flexible in its first growth in the
autumn, but becomes longer as the
season advances, until in winter the
hair is so thick and close set that it
stands erect. As the winter advances
the dark tips of the hair are rubbed off
so that by spring the old males are
quite white. Under the hair a fine
wool covers the skin.</p>
<p>The movements of the Bighorn are
quite graceful, and the agility and
lightness with which it scales steep
bluffs, runs along the narrowest edge
on the face of a precipice, or leaps
from rock to rock in its descent from
some mountain-top, are excelled by no
other animal. These Sheep feed early
in the morning, and retire during the
middle of the day to points high up
on the bluffs or mountains where they
rest until sundown, when they return
to their feeding grounds. Except
during the month of December the
old rams are found in small bands by
themselves, the females and young
associating together in companies of
from five to twenty. In a country where
they have not been disturbed by man
they are occasionally seen in much
larger herds.</p>
<p>No animal is more shy and wary
than the Bighorn, and it therefore
requires in its successful pursuit the
greatest patience and deliberation, as,
if it receives the slightest hint of the
enemy's presence, it immediately disappears.
Many a hunter of experience
has never killed a Mountain Sheep, as
these vigilant mountain climbers are
usually able to elude their enemies.</p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="MOUNTAIN SHEEP." summary="MOUNTAIN SHEEP.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_064.jpg" id="i_064.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_064.jpg" width="600" height="456" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">From col. Mr. F. Kaempfer.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">MOUNTAIN SHEEP.<br/>
1/10 Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Copyright by<br/>
Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898, Chicago.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>The instinct of self-preservation is
remarkably developed in the Mountain
Sheep, and only animals of equal agility
and superior cunning can secure
them. In their mountain fastnesses
they are comparatively free from the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</SPAN></span>
pursuit of man; the things they have
most to fear are the avalanche and
glaciers. The elements of danger,
however, only serve to render its pursuit
more attractive to the ardent
sportsman, and when in a country
where it abounds, deer, antelope, and
even elk are likely to be neglected for
the Mountain Sheep. The flesh, too,
is most delicious, and is regarded as
much superior to any wild meat which
the west affords. Hallock says that
he knows of no more delicate dish than
is afforded by a yearling ewe in good
order seasoned with that wonderful
sauce furnished by the free, open-air
life of the plains and mountains.
"The glory of fat cow pales, and even
elk and black-tailed deer meat hide
their diminished heads before the rare
toothsomeness of a juicy saddle or the
dripping ribs of a young and tender
Bighorn."</p>
<p>"To hunt the Mountain Sheep successfully
the candidate for honors
should have some experience with
large game, should have the patience
and endurance possessed only by the
most enthusiastic sportsman, and
should be a fair shot with the rifle. In
the gray of the morning, before attempting
to look for his game, he
should seek the highest ground in his
vicinity whence a wide view of the
surrounding country may be obtained,
and from this point, with the good
glass that is an indispensable part of a
hunter's outfit, he should search the
little ravines and grassy meadows running
down from the hills. The sheep
are always on the watch for enemies
upon the lower ground, but rarely turn
their glances to the heights, which, if
disturbed, they will seek for safety."</p>
<p>It is indeed marvelous that these
animals should be able to descend with
facility the most abrupt precipices and
cross canons, the sides of which are
almost vertical, and this has given
rise to the idea that they can throw
themselves from great heights, and
striking on their horns, can rebound
uninjured and alight on their feet.
Indeed, this is somewhat imaginative
as it is apparently unreasonable. It is
on account of the vast size of the horns,
and the fact that these are often battered
and splintered that this statement
has been accepted as worthy of
belief. It has been suggested, however,
that even if the animal's head
could stand so great a shock, it's neck
would not. If it were true, how could
females and young males, whose horns
are little larger than those of the goat
descend the cliffs, which they do as
actively and successfully as the old
males? The fact is that the splintered
condition of the horns of the bucks
is due to their battles and their play
at all times of the year. The feet of
Mountain Sheep are precisely adapted
for their life among the crags, and
they seem to be able to cling to any
surface which presents the slightest
inequality. Only the Wild Goat could
pass over the same dangerous places.
May or June are given in some of the
best works on natural history as the
time when the young are brought
forth.</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="A_SEMINARY_FOR_TEACHING_BIRDS_HOW_TO_SING" id="A_SEMINARY_FOR_TEACHING_BIRDS_HOW_TO_SING"></SPAN> A SEMINARY FOR TEACHING BIRDS HOW TO SING.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_b.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="100" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">BUYING and importing song
birds, says the <i>Scientific
American</i>, occupies the
time and attention of several
scores of people in
New York, and as the distributing
center of this peculiar trade, the city
is often the home of considerable numbers
of song birds gathered from all
quarters of the globe. On the East
side, in Fourth street, there are several
remarkable aviaries where, without
doubt, a study of one branch of ornithology
can be pursued under conditions
more favorable than elsewhere on this
continent, and a visit to one of these
bird conservatories of music is better
than a trip to the fields or woods to
listen to the songs of the wild warblers.
The owner of the aviary is a German—more
than probable from some little
village in the Hartz Mountains, where
bird-raising is the chief industry,—and
he not only feeds and tends his little
birds with loving care, but teaches
them to whistle and sing in tune to
the accompaniment of an old reed
organ or flute.</p>
<p>There are several large importing
houses of song birds in New York, and
in the busy season they employ from
twenty to forty travelers who go back
and forth from Europe to purchase the
pick of the Canaries, Bullfinches and
other European songsters. The consignments
come chiefly from Germany
and England. Nearly all the Canaries
raised in the world for cage purposes
come from these two countries, and
most of the German exporting houses
have distributing branches in New
York. The birds are sent over by
steamer in large consignments under
the charge of an expert care-tender,
who does nothing else but feed and
doctor the little pets placed under his
charge. One experienced man can
take charge of five large crates, each
one containing two hundred and ten
cages of birds, or a little over a thousand
in all. Sometimes during the
rush season the care-tender has five
hurricane deckers to watch, or fourteen
hundred cages and birds to look after
during the long hours of the days and
nights.</p>
<p>That this work is not easy, any one
who has had the privilege of looking
after a single canary for a week can
well understand. Feeding and watering
over a thousand birds, and cleaning
out their cages every day, makes
up a routine of work on shipboard that
begins at four o'clock in the morning
and does not end until late in the
afternoon. When seasickness makes
life miserable for the passengers, the
canaries are apt to be uncomfortable
in their crowded quarters. Sometimes
a disease known as "schnappen"
breaks out among the Canaries at such
times, and as this is fearfully contagious,
it sweeps through the crowded
bird quarters on shipboard and decimates
the ranks at a terrible rate.
Cases are known where only ten birds
have survived out of an importation of
eight hundred to a thousand, the
disease performing its terrible work in
a week's time. This is supposed to
be caused as much by the over crowded
and poorly ventilated condition of the
birds' quarters as by the rolling of the
ship. If you ask Fritz if his birds get
seasick, he will answer emphatically
"No;" but he will add softly to himself
"schnappen." And in that word
is conveyed much of meaning that the
lay mind cannot appreciate.</p>
<p>When the imported birds arrive in
port, they are hurried immediately to
the importing houses, or to the different
quiet aviaries in the German quarters,
where experienced bird raisers
take them in charge. It is at this
latter place that one may make an
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</SPAN></span>
inspection of the singers which are
destined to carry song and delight into
so many homes. Most of them are
trained birds and they whistle and
sing to perfection, and all that their
German attendant has to do is to feed
and water them properly. If disease
breaks out among them, he is supposed
to know just what to do, and in most
instances he does prove an expert bird
doctor.</p>
<p>In the mating and breeding season,
however, young birds appear in the
great aviary which must be taught to
sing and whistle accurately. Most
people imagine that all the perfection
of song cage-birds is inherited, and
they would be surprised to learn the
amount of labor bestowed upon them
in order to make their tunes accurate.
The young birds that have the proper
voices for great artists are trained in
the most careful manner. In the
Hartz Mountains, where Canary training
reaches its highest development,
the throat and voice of each young
Canary are tested, and those selected
for the highest training are set apart
by themselves. They are sent to a
school of instruction that is unique in
its methods. At the head of this
school is probably a Canary of the St.
Andreasberg type, which strikes the
right note for all the youngsters to
imitate. The young birds are taken
into the room in their cages, with
cloth draped over them to shut out the
light until the proper time has come
for singing. Then the light is admitted
and the teacher begins her
warbling. The young birds, which
have probably never yet attempted to
pipe, leave off their feeding and listen
to the marvelous outburst of pure song.
They become uneasy and enraptured,
and in a short time they try to imitate
the song; but they make miserable
failures for many days. Eventually
some of them strike the right note,
and at the end of the week the most
promising ones are separated from the
rest and placed in rooms with the best
singers. In this way their voices are
gradually cultivated, and new songs
are taught them.</p>
<p>There are several such schools for
canaries in New York, but they are
devoted entirely to the comparatively
few Canaries raised for the trade in
this country. Most of those imported
have already been trained to sing
accurately, although after their long
sea voyage they need a little extra
training to bring their voices to perfection.
The best trained Canaries are
the St. Andreasberg Canaries, whose
notes are considered the finest of any
in existence. Originally these notes
were obtained by placing a Nightingale
in the breeding room of the young
Canaries, and the natural, clear-toned
voices quickly blended the song in
with their natural notes. In time, by
careful breeding and selection, the
present type of the St. Andreasberg
Canary was produced, but the pure,
bracing air of the Hartz Mountains is
considered necessary for the proper
development of one of these superb
singers. A true St. Andreasberg
singer cannot, it is believed by bird
trainers, be reared outside of the Hartz
Mountains, and it is claimed that only
about ten per cent of those raised in
their native place ever pass the critical
examination of the judges. They are
sold according to the perfection of their
song power, the best imported bringing
as much as $25 to $50 apiece, and
ordinary ones as little as $4 to $5.
As a rule they are very small and insignificant
looking birds, and not until
they have opened their little throats
to sing, does one comprehend their
mission in life.</p>
<hr class="small" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="SUMMARY" id="SUMMARY"></SPAN>SUMMARY.</h2>
<p>Page <SPAN href="#Page_46"> 46</SPAN>.</p>
<p><b>COMMON TERN.</b>—<i>Sterna hirundo.</i> Other
names: "Sea Swallow," "Wilson's Tern,"
"Red Shank," "Mackerel Gull," and "Summer
Gull."</p>
<p><span class="sc">Range</span>—The greater part of the northern
hemisphere and Africa. In North America
chiefly confined to the eastern province, breeding
variously throughout its range.</p>
<p><span class="sc">Nest</span>—Above high water line on the beach
and on the sides of the bluffs; made of grass
and sea weeds.</p>
<p><span class="sc">Eggs</span>—Three, greenish to deep brown in
color.</p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p>Page <SPAN href="#Page_50"> 50</SPAN>.</p>
<p><b>PRAIRIE WOLF.</b>—<i>Canis latrans.</i> Other
name: "Coyote."</p>
<p>Found in the western part of North America.</p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p>Page <SPAN href="#Page_54"> 54</SPAN>.</p>
<p><b>FOX SQUIRREL.</b>—<i>Sciurus cinereus.</i> Other
name: "Cat Squirrel."</p>
<p>A common North American species.</p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p>Page <SPAN href="#Page_58"> 58</SPAN>.</p>
<p><b>LOON.</b>—<i>Urinator imber.</i></p>
<p><span class="sc">Range</span>—Northern part of northern hemisphere.
In North America breeds from the
northern tier of states northward; in winter
south to the Gulf of Mexico and lower California.</p>
<p><span class="sc">Nest</span>—At or near the edge of the water on
marshy or boggy grounds; they are quite bulky
and made of water grasses with a mixture of
moss and mud.</p>
<p><span class="sc">Eggs</span>—Two, olive brown, more or less spotted
and blotched with blackish brown.</p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p>Page <SPAN href="#Page_67"> 67</SPAN>.</p>
<p><b>AMERICAN RED FOX.</b>—<i>Vulpes fulvus.</i>
Common in the United States.</p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p>Page <SPAN href="#Page_71"> 71</SPAN>.</p>
<p><b>LEAST SANDPIPER.</b>—<i>Tringa minutilla.</i>
Other name: "Peep."</p>
<p><span class="sc">Range</span>—The whole of North and South
America, breeding north of the United States.</p>
<p><span class="sc">Nest</span>—On the ground.</p>
<p><span class="sc">Eggs</span>—Three or four.</p>
<hr class="w5" />
<p>Page <SPAN href="#Page_74"> 74</SPAN>.</p>
<p><b>MOUNTAIN SHEEP.</b>—<i>Ovis Montana.</i>
Other name: "Bighorn."</p>
<p>Inhabitant of the mountains of western
America. Its northern range extends as far
as Alaska.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="transnote">
<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3>
<ul>
<li>Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.</li>
<li>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant form was
found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</li>
<li>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.</li>
<li>The Mountain Sheep illustration has been moved from page 75 to page 74.</li>
<li>Duplicated chapter headings have been omitted.</li>
<li>The Contents table was added by the transcriber.</li>
</ul></div>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
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