BIRDS IN TOWN. 



ELLA F. MOSBY. 



WRENS are friendly to man. The 

 little house wren in summer, 

 .and the Carolina wren in win 

 ter, give us a merry roundelay 

 for all sorts of weather. Bewick's 

 wren, Mr. Torrey says, "greatly pre 

 fers the town to woods and meadows," 

 and even the winter wrenkin, dear little 

 saucy brownie that he is, vouchsafes us 

 a glimpse of himself now and then in 

 the city. As for the bigger kinsfolk, 

 the mocking-bird and catbird, they 

 love the shrubbery of our lawns, and 

 gardens, and sing close at hand. Nor 

 are the thrushes, shy as they are in the 

 breeding season, hard to discover dur 

 ing the migrations. A Swainson's 

 thrush will sit for an hour or so, almost 

 within touch, his big liquid eyes re 

 garding his human neighbors placidly. 



Strange to say, I have seen but few 

 swallows or sparrows in town, except 

 the chipping or "door-step" sparrow 

 and the purple martin which belongs to 

 the swallow tribe, though the misnamed 

 chimney swallow does not. The song 

 of the martin, "like musical laughter 

 rippling through the throat," and the 

 "giggling twitter" of the chimney 

 dweller, often seem to drop to us out 

 of the air as they dart overhead. Even 

 pewees and cuckoos visit us after their 

 broods are reared, the wistful cry of the 

 first and the rattling call of the latter, 

 sounding oddly from some tall tree 

 close by the crowded street. At this 

 time too, the grackles perch upon the 

 roofs, and nighthawks and whippoor- 

 wills are heard overhead in the dusky 

 twilights. 



One would not naturally expect to 

 find- game birds or birds of prey in a 

 city, yet the Virginia quail frequently 

 sends forth his ringing "bob 'white!" 

 from any low roof or fence in the spring 

 or early fall; and more than once long- 

 billed water-birds have been caught by 

 the street lamps at night. The eerie, 

 tremulous cry of the little screech-owl 

 sounds from the apple tree, and in 



winter he flies with a soft thud against 

 the window pane, attracted by the light 

 shining through the snow. Some owls 

 choose a belfry tower as their favorite 

 shelter, and live there year after year. 

 Our most glorious bird-day is when 

 the orioles appear in flashing black and 

 gold with ringing whistle, or their or 

 chard cousins in ruddy chestnut tints, 

 alternately singing and scolding, chack! 

 chack! and little later, come the scarlet 

 and summer tanagers to the parks and 

 public gardens, lighting up the tall 

 trees with their splendid color, and 

 making the neighborhood ring with 

 their ckip-chur and chicky-tuck! as if in 

 call and answer. One day I saw these, 

 and not far away, the crested cardinal, 

 glowing like a tropical flower, and the 

 red-headed woodpeckers close by, and 

 some redstarts glittering and flitting 

 from bough to bough, truly a study in 

 red! 



As for the smaller birds, humming 

 birds, kinglets, vireos, and warblers, the 

 trees of any city yard will be a fre 

 quented hostelry for all during their' 

 wonderful journeys, and for many as a 

 summer home. Those that love the 

 tree tops are seen all the better by hu 

 man inhabitants of upper stories, and 

 some of our most charming bird-books 

 give us the experiences of a busy 

 woman in a New York flat, or of an 

 other in a Chicago back yard, and of 

 more than one invalid, watching these 

 free, joyous lives with unenvious de 

 light. A good glass, either opera-glass 

 or field-glass, will open many a pretty 

 bit of house-weaving, and brood-rear 

 ing to an observer shut in by walls 

 and pavements, and bring many a 

 pleasant acquaintance. At this very 

 moment, a slender grey catbird glides 

 through the boughs close by my upper 

 window, with a low chuck, chuck! as I 

 glance at him. He knows I am a 

 friend, but would fain enjoin silence, 

 for a black cat prowls below. 



