HARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



M5 



SOME WINTER BIRDS OF NEW JERSEY. 



By Dr. CHARLES C. ABBOTT. 



HAVE been reading 

 ahout British birds 

 of late ; my book- 

 seller having sent 

 me several dainty 

 volumes, new and 

 old, relating their 

 many merits. One 

 after the other, I 

 have read each 

 from title-page to 

 index, and laid it 

 down with a pang 

 of jealousy, mut- 

 tering something 

 like this: "Their 

 birds are prefer- 

 able to ours." 

 Then, before tak- 

 ing up some new 

 author, I have 

 gone for a ramble over fields and meadows, up hill 

 and down dale, to see if we too cannot truthfully 

 boast of birds of merit ; and I have invariably come 

 home, convinced that we can. But each new book 

 that I took up caused the late walk to be forgotten, 

 and I had all the unpleasant doubt and jealousy to 

 undergo again. 



Last night's meditations, however, solved the 

 problem ; we have the birds, but not the authors. No 

 one yet has done them justice as a whole ; although 

 Burroughs, Torrey, Thoreau, Gones, and Maurice 

 Thompson have done well, gloriously well, by many 

 of them. 



And now, a word or two of my recent walks — ■ 

 rambles in dull December's dismal days. Here in 

 Central New Jersey, where our winters are milder 

 than in New England and in even the northern 

 section of our own State, we have birds in plenty, 

 and, while few are of brilliant plumage, none are 

 absolutely ugly and some are beautiful. Let us 

 consider them briefly, bearing in mind that those 

 mentioned are the familiar birds of a winter day. 

 No. 295. — July 18S9. 



Not because more abundant than certain sparrows, 

 nor larger than most winter birds, for it is neither, 

 but for the reason that no bright winter morning 

 seems complete without him, I will mention first 

 our beautiful sparrow-hawk. Whether hovering in 

 the open, in search of a mouse, or dashing through 

 underbrush in pursuit of a finch, this falcon is the 

 embodiment of grace, and we are disposed to overlook 

 his murderous errands, so attractively does he conduct 

 himself. As a destroyer of song birds, if such only, 

 I should have nothing but curses to fling at him ; but 

 this is an unfair view to take. From long observa- 

 tion, I am convinced that he prefers fun to feathers, 

 and birds are safe whenever mice are accessible. 



Of course the small birds do not look upon him in 

 this light, and flee from his presence. So the pretty 

 song sparrows did this morning, as I crossed an 

 upland field, for one of these hawks came sailing 

 by, and the songsters cut short their warbling, to dive 

 into a clump of weeds. I crouched in an angle of 

 the crooked fence to see what might happen, and had 

 the hawk object within ten paces of me. He moved 

 his head to and fro continually, looking for prey, and 

 while so doing, the sparrows slipped to the ground 

 and ran like mice for several yards ; then up and 

 darted into the bushes twenty rods away. In an 

 instant the hawk was after them, but not quickly 

 enough. Nearing the dense undergrowth, he saw it 

 was too late and so sailed up into the air, wheeled 

 and hovered over the field, looking, I am sure, for 

 mice. Why sure ? Because ere long he caught one, 

 and sent the sparrows in haste from the thicket, as 

 he flew to a tall tree therein, to enjoy a well-earned 

 meal. 



As I neared a clump of cedars by the public road, 

 a host of tree sparrows fluttered about me. They 

 were seed-hunting in the pasture as I approached, 

 and were none too ready to leave it. These lively 

 birds come to us from Canada in October and 

 stay until April. I suppose those living near the 

 haunts of the nightingale would not call tree-sparrows 

 song birds, but ihe united twittering of a hundred or 

 more cheers the gloomy winter day and robs the 



