1857. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



dressed off with the harrow and li^ht roller, a top- 

 dressing of thirty bushels of house ashes, or twice 

 or three times as much of barilla or "soaper's waste" 

 should be applied, and the seed-sower take p'?- 

 cedence of the hand. The instrument should be so 

 graduated as to deposit the seed in "hills" from! 

 eighteen to twenty inches apart ; the distance be- 

 tween the rows should be two feet, flush. From 

 six to eight seeds may be allowed to each hill, in 

 order to secure plants for transplanting, should there 

 be any destroyed by insects or other causes of a for- 

 tuitous kind. 



The after culture consists simply in thinning — an 

 operation which requires much care and circum- 

 spection, as the slightest degree of rudeness would 

 prove injurious to the standing plants, by lacer;^t- 

 ing the minute rootlets which are then just begin- 

 ning to form and radiate, — and in hoeing as fre- 

 quently as circumstances will permit. 



After thinning, an application of ashes, say a ta- 

 ble spoonful to each plant, with the same quantity 

 of gypsum, may be applied with profit. 



An acre of well developed and vigorous cabbages, 

 presents a beautiful appearance in the fall, and if 

 the soil is all occupied, the produce or weight will 

 be immense. We leave it to our mathematical 

 friends to ascertain the number, if they like. 



For the New England Farmer. 



ORNITHOLOGY. 



BY S. P. FOWLER. 



Among the many excellencies of the JVew Eng- 

 land Farmer, I am pleased to enumerate the 

 communications which appear occasionally in its 

 columns, upon the subject of natural history, partic- 

 ularly ornithology. This interesting study belongs 

 peculiarly to the cultivator of the soil, and favora- 

 ble opportunities are constantly occurring to no- 

 tice the habits of our birds. But my object more 

 particularly in this communication, is to present 

 you, Mr. Editor, a specimen of our ornithology, 

 with some remarks accompanying it. 



I will suppose the little bird came safe to hand, 

 and, resting it in your left palm, you are examining 

 it. You will at once perceive that it is formed for 

 bloody work, by noticing its sharp talons and 

 hooked beak ; it is very likely you will think, after 

 all, it could not accomplish much by a life devoted 

 to rapine, more especially if I should inform you 

 that its weight is but three ounces, and that it is 

 one of our smallest rapacious birds. But look 

 again, see how completely it is armed ; those claws 

 are moved by powerful muscles, that never need 

 sharpening, and seldom yield their grasp, and that 

 savage beak never grows dull by use. Many a 

 poor defunct mouse could testify to this fact, were 

 it able, and had it not been devoured instanter. — 

 Moreover, it is nocturnal in its habits, and pounces 

 upon its victim by night, like a garroter, and 

 throttles him. It has also the stealthy habits and 

 motions of the cat, and the Author of its being, for 

 wise purposes, surely, has furnished it with a soft 

 and silky plumage, so that its wings may cause no 

 rustling sound in its flight, as it steals noiselessly 



along at night to surprise some small bird, asleep 

 with its little careless head under its wing. You 

 will likewise perceive, as you hold it in your hand, 

 that it is warmly clad ; not a particle of its flesh, 

 except the soles of its feet, is uncovered, it being 

 feathered to its very toes, and its whiskers project 

 beyond its bill ; this last fashion of our bird never 

 varies as with us. It withstood the severe cold of 

 this winter unhoused, when men have perished, 

 and came to its death by a gun-shot wound, in a 

 barn-yard of a Danvers farmer, where, searching, 

 perhaps, for a mouse for its supper, it was over- 

 taken by the dawn, and the glare of day prevented 

 it from finding its way back to a cedar swamp, its 

 home. 



You are now, probably, impatient to know the 

 name of this little bird you have been examining. 

 Well, it is the Strix Acadica, perhaps so named 

 by the venerable English ornithologist. Dr. Lath- 

 am, in the year 1781. He informs us in his "Sy- 

 nopsis," vol I., p. 149 — that he had one of these 

 birds in his possession, which came from North 

 America, and thought it an inhabitant of Nova Sco- 

 tia. Hence its name, Acadian Owl. It has since 

 been discovered to be not uncommon in the United 

 States. I have seen, at long intervals, specimens 

 of this bird, and my interest in them has been 

 awakened upon remembering the amusing mistakes 

 made by travellers, geographers, and natural histo- 

 rians, in regard to its habits, and more particularly 

 its notes. 



It is now nearly one hundred years since Capt. 

 Jonathan Carver travelled from Boston, through 

 the interior parts of North America, and first heard 

 the most singular note of this small species of owl, 

 which you hold in your hand. His description of 

 it is as follows : — "The whet-saw is of the cuckoo 

 kind, being like that a solitary bird, and scarcely 

 ever seen. In the summer months it is heard in 

 the groves, where it makes a noise like the filing of 

 a saw, from which it receives its name." This ac- 

 count of Carver's most singular, unknown and un- 

 approachable bird, was published in the lists of our 

 birds for many years, and was to be found, like the 

 waken bird, another nondescript, in several editions 

 of Morse's Geography. In 1840, Mr. P. H. Gosse, 

 in an interesting book, illustrating not only the 

 natural history of Canada, but also of New Eng- 

 land, entitled the "Canadian Naturalist," thus no- 

 tices our bird under consideration, supposing it by 

 its note, which he frequently heard, to be a gros- 

 beak. The book is written in the easy and pleas- 

 ant style of a dialogue between a father and his 

 son Charles, and was first published in London, in 

 1840. His remarks referring to our bird are as 

 follows : 



"April. — Charles — Notwithstanding the day 

 has been so warm, now the sun is down, the air is 

 chilly and even cold. Listen to the singular sound 

 proceeding from yonder cedar swamp ; it is like the 

 measured tinkle of a cow-bell, or regular strokes 

 upon a piece of iron quickly repeated. Now it has 

 ceased. 



Father — There it is again. I will give you all 

 the information I can about it, and that is very lit- 

 tle. In spring, that is during the months of April, 

 May, and the former part of June, we frequently 

 hear, after night-fall, the sound you have just 

 heard ; from its regularity, it is usually thought to 

 resemble the whetting of a saw, and hence the bird 

 from which it proceeds, is called the saw-whetter^ 



