Comedy and Tragedy in Bird Life 



By Edward B. Clark 



In the bird's year the season of song is the season of tragedy. The wonder 

 is that during the nest-building time birds have the heart to sing at all. Danger 

 is ever present, and it is probably not an exaggeration to say that disaster attends 

 at least one-half of the attempts of the songsters to rear their young. There are 

 so many casualties among the bird homes that the nesting season holds for the 

 field student rather more of pain than of pleasure. It has struck me many 

 times that the birds must feel that the whole world is against them when they 

 are trying so patiently and so bravely to see that their kind does not perish from 

 the earth. From the moment that the first egg appears the shadow of danger 

 is across the threshold of the little home. There are the perils of wind and flood, 

 of egg-loving snakes, and of egg-collecting boys. A little later, when the young 

 appear, there is danger from prowling cats and looting owls, and from men nest- 

 robbers, who pretend to think that the proper sphere of a wild bird lies within 

 the limits of a cage. 



The books tell us that many species of birds build their nests near the habi- 

 tations of men because of the protection that is afforded by such locations. The 

 theory is, that owls, hawks, and snakes avoid the vicinity of civilization, and thus 

 the nesting birds are relieved from the fear of depredations of these natural 

 enemies. There is another side to the question, however. The minute that the 

 bird places its home on the pillar of the porch, in the lilac bush of the garden, 

 or in the maple at the doorstep, it invites destruction for itself and young at the 

 claws of the family cat, a creature which, unfortunately, few households are 

 without. The very openness of the nesting sites chosen makes of the eggs or of 

 the young a temptation to the badly trained boy, who nine times out of ten finds 

 himself unable to resist. As a deduction from observations that have extended 

 through many nesting seasons, I don't hesitate to say that I think the part of 

 wisdom belongs to the bird who builds in the wilds and gives man, cats and boys 

 a wide berth. 



It is a curious thing that, .all things being apparently equal, some of the birds 

 that nest in the haunts of men have much better success with their families than 

 have others. The bluejay, one of the characteristic birds of the Middle West, 

 is handicapped in his struggle for existence by his. brilliant plumage. Notwith- 

 standing this, the jay abounds and will continue to abound unless his traits of 

 character undergo a radical change. A jay, building in an evergreen on one side 

 of a doorstep, will be rejoicing in five healthy offspring able to fly and to care for 

 themselves, while the robin, building in the maple on the other side of the door- 

 step, is bewailing the disappearance of its last fledgling into the mouth of a cat. 

 Accidents to jays' nests are rare. It builds .as strong a structure as does the 

 robin, and as a rule, Madame Jay insists that the young jays shall stay in the 



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