104 



THE OSPREY. 



nialerially strengtlieued later by the discovery 

 of a swarm of Hies in his neighborhood. But 

 there was even more method than I had sus- 

 pected. On the ground in the center of the 

 opening lay a smooth weatherbeateu slab, the 

 top of a log that hail rotted there. To this lie 

 took the Hies he cauglit and laid them down iu 

 a straight row. He kept adding to one end of 

 tliis row, laying the flies equal distances apart. 

 He was so absorbed in liis occupation that he 

 was oliiivions to everything else, and I watched 

 him sonic time unobserved. 1 finally backed 

 carefull_v out of his sight and left him at his 

 work. 1 have regretted since that 1 could not 

 have watched him longer. This incident is full 

 of suggestions. Why did he put the flies in a 

 straiglit row'.' Did he do it unconsciously or 

 had he grasped enough of the idea of cun'es 

 and straight lines to voluntarily form them? 

 Could he count them or form any idea as to 

 the nnniber he hadV Why did he lay them 

 there at all? Possibly he wished to take them 

 away somewhere and was afraid that if he tooK 

 them one at a time, as he caught them, the 



swarm uuLild be gone when he returned. He 

 might have been making hay while the sun 

 shone. These and nuuiy more questions might 

 we ask about his capabilities, about his whole 

 life, in fact, a giimpse of which he liad so un- 

 consciously given. 



These instances, ajjart from their otidity, im- 

 pressed me with the idea that there is more in 

 the lives of birds than we imagine. The old 

 lllack Woodpecker not only showed his skill in 

 a beautiful feat of flying, but also gave us a 

 hint of a "higher education," gained some time, 

 somewhere, somehow. If his life could be 

 watched from day to day it might furnish ma- 

 terial for another such biog'raphy as "Silver- 

 spot, the Crow." And one who questioned the 

 value of scientific ornithology and laughed at 

 "bird study," would still, 1 think, feel some 

 sympathy with the little bird worliing on his 

 row of ilies. It is such things as these that 

 Iciul fascination to nature study, and make the 

 enthusiast "go at it" like the sniall boy into his 

 first love affair — as though no one had ever 

 been in love before. 



SOME OF OUR WINTER BIRDS. 



By M. A. Carhikkr. In 



One sunny afternoon in early February, 

 while strolling through a strip of woodland, 

 bordering on a small creek, 1 was more ini- 

 pi-essed than ever before with the number and 

 variety of birds, large and small, which remain 

 here to face the rigors of our Nebraska win- 

 ters. 



Along the outskirts of timber, and among 

 the dead weeds and tangled grasses of dry ra- 

 vines, several species of Northern Sparrows 

 and the Slate-colored Junco (Junco hiemalisi 

 may be seen flitting about in their restless 

 manner from weed to weed in search of seeds, 

 while clinging to a naked weed-stalk the cheer- 

 ful little Chickadee (Parus atricapillus), or the 

 stoical Downy Woodpecker (Dr.xobates pubes- 

 ceiis) beats a lively tattoo in his search for the 

 little grubs which he knows are hidden within. 



While 1 cross an open field I most likely send 

 a flock of Horned Larks, which have been feed- 

 ing there, whirling away on their peculiar, un- 

 dulating flight, to drop suddenly on. the crest 

 of the next hill, where they resume their inter- 

 rupted search for their noonday meal. 



Passing on, I start through a patch of thiclc 

 hazel brusli', when just in front of me sud- 

 denly appear several flashes of brilliant sear- 

 let, and as suddenly they are gone. Silentlyi 1 

 watch the place where they disappeared, and 

 soon I see a pair of beautiful Cardinals (Car- 

 dinalis cardinalis) stealing away among the 

 bushes in their peculiar manner. 



Pushing- my way through the brush, I come 

 suddenly upon a flock of eig-ht or ten Kobins 

 (Merula migratoria) scratching among- tlie 

 leaves in an open place. With a chorus of 

 startled twitterings they are swiftly on the 

 wing and away. 



Entering the woods, a loud and vigorous rap- 

 ping attracts my attention. Advancing 

 stealthily in its direction, I all but surprise a 

 large male Hairy Woodpecker (Dryobates vil- 

 losus) digging in a decayed limb of a wild 



, Nc'l>iask[i City, Neb, 



cherry tree; then, with one startled glance iu 

 ui_\' clirection, he takes to wing- and his beau- 

 tiful black and white-barred wings and scarlet 

 nape are soon lost to sig-lit among the trees. 



Coining to a hollow tree, I explore for a stray 

 Opossum, which may have taken up its abode 

 there. As 1 bend over to e.xamine the entrance 

 in search of the tell-tale hairs which it always 

 leaves, something drops from above and goes 

 past my face with a suddenness that sends me 

 sprawling on the ground from fright. Looking 

 up for the cause of my downfall, I see a Flicker 

 (Colaptes anratus) flying- away with a speed 

 that shows I am not the only one frightened. 

 While picking- myself up, a pair of the ever- 

 present and insolent Blue Jays (Cyanocitta 

 cristata) give vent to their feelings of delight 

 over my misliap in loud notes of "dew-ay, 

 dew-ay! de-\v-ay; ' 



I'assing into heavier timber, I flush a Barred 

 Owl (Syrnium nebulosum) from his retreat in 

 a vine-covered tree, and Ijefore he has gone a 

 hundred yards a flock of Crows, which had, no 

 doubt, been hunting- him, pounce down u|ion 

 him with exultant caws, happy that they can 

 make life miserable for something- for a short 

 time. 



On arriving- at the top of a hill, panting from 

 the hard climb, a magnificent Buteo borealis 

 rises from lielow and sails upward, circling ma- 

 jestically above me till satisfied as to my iden- 

 tity, then dropping over the next hill to join 

 its mate. 



At last T come to the object of my trip. On 

 the side of the hill above me stands a large 

 cottonw-ood tree, with a huge, unshapely nest 

 resting in one of its forks. Approa(-hiug 

 closer, a round object, with two projecting 

 horns, rises from the nest, and the next mo- 

 ment a huge mottled bird sails noiselessly 

 nway. After adjusting my climbers, I slowly 

 ascend the huge trunk, and at last, nearly out 

 of breath, I reach the nest. I can hardly get 



