230 



Bird - Lore 



as I write, I hear those who might be called uncompromising general defenders 

 say that Crackles do not eat corn, and then follow the statement with a list of 

 the noxious things that they do eat. Be this as it may, the Crackles eat my 

 corn, and the Starlings frighten away my Robins, and tight my Flickers, and 

 poke out other nesting, insectivorous birds too numerous to list. Also, 

 Crackles ate fresh corn in Audubon's day, for a much-valued plate done by 

 him, that hangs in my hall, has forever shown them in the act. Protection, to 

 be in the highest degree efifective, must be rational, not fanatical. The 

 Crackle must be held in check in well-settled communities of gardens and 



small farms; while, if the 

 Starling is allowed to 

 multiply as it has done 

 the last half-dozen years, 

 another disturber of the 

 peace of the rural morning 

 will be established, and a 

 spoke added to the fast- 

 revolving modern nerve- 

 rack wheel. 



The autumn signal given 

 by the Crackles in farm 

 and garden is taken up by 

 the Swallows along the 

 wayside and wide marsh 

 meadows. In fact, there 

 are some sizable Swallow 

 tlocks in early August ; but 

 hereabouts the first week in 

 September sees the great, 

 smoky, cloudlike flock of 

 the Bank Swallows settling 

 on the beach edge, where the campers so recently reigned, and, even at low tide, 

 mingling with the 'Peeps' that patter about the water-edge. A sudden fright 

 will separate the flocks, and show the great difiference in flight, — the Sand- 

 pipers skimming low o\-er the water, while the Bank Swallows settle on the 

 bay-bushes, or else cling to the rough roofs of a shore cottage, like an array of 

 close-set, feathered shingles. 



Exactly what form of animal life drew the Swallows to the sand had been 

 for some time a mystery until, a few days ago, chancing to be at the beach when 

 a quantity of broad-leaved seaweed, fermented by the sun, was sending forth 

 a particularly stale odor, I saw that the mass, edging tide-water for several 

 hundred feet, was swarming with flies, and it was upon these that the Swallows 

 were feeding so eagerly. After all, first and last, the food-supply is thegreat thing. 



YOUNG BLACK-CROWXED NIGHT HERON IN THE 

 MARSH PIT BEYOND BLUEBIRD FARM 



