ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY BULLETIN 



1125 



THE STATUS OF BIRD LIFE IN CON- 

 NECTICUT IN OCTOBER, 191^2. 

 Bi/ Daniel Carter Beard* 



TWENTY years ago in any of the Long- 

 Island villages, or the rural districts in 

 Connecticut, the song-birds, particularly 

 the robin and wood-thrushes on Long Island, 

 were so plentiful that in the spring at half- 

 past three in the morning, they always awoke 

 me by the indescribable din they made with 

 their chirping and singing among the trees. 

 Now in similar locations when I am awake be- 

 tween three and four o'clock in the morning at 

 the same time of year, the birds are so few 

 that I can locate each one by its voice without 

 rising from my bed. There will be one robin 

 chirping over to the right and another one to 

 the left maybe, and one or two others in some 

 other location, and seldom, if ever, do I hear 

 a wood-thrush. The decrease in the twenty 

 years must amount to at least eighty per cent, 

 among the robins, and probably as great per 

 cent, among the other birds. 



It is not generally known that all of our 

 songbirds are exceedingly local in their habita- 

 tion. If robins nest in the tree next to my 

 house one year, unless some accident befalls the 

 pair, I can count to a certainty that I will find 

 them nesting within fifty feet of tiie old nest 

 the following year. I have tested this over 

 and over again with certain birds that I could 

 identify, either by some peculiarity of their 

 plumage or some individual characteristic of 

 their song. For eight successive years, a pair 

 of cat birds nested in a certain lilac bush on 

 my lawn on Long Island. For four consecu- 

 tive years a certain pair of orioles nested in a 

 certain majjle tree at Flushing. So local was 

 this bird in its selection of its nesting site, that 

 at one time three of its nests representing three 

 consecutive years, hung so close together that 

 every breeze caused them to bump against each 

 other. In a tree on the farm of Mr. Harry 

 Lounsbury at the foot of the hill upon which 

 stands Stormfield, the home of the late Mark 

 Twain, a pair of orioles have nested for eight- 

 een consecutive years. Five of these years I 

 have verified myself. In my log cabin in Pike 

 County, Penn., a pair of humming birds have 

 built in the swale near my house, usually select- 

 ing the dead lower branches of the pine tree for 



*Mr. naniel Carter Be;iril, the famous artist, a\ithor. natur- 

 alist and National Boy Scout Commissioner, lias elosely observed 

 tlie strusprle for existence of the birds of Southern Connecticut, 

 and the decrease of several importjint species. The careful 

 observations herein recorded are of special value at this time, 

 when the defenders of our migratory birds are endeavoring: to 

 save them through the new law. — W. T. H. 



the location of their tiny nest, for almost twen- 

 ty consecutive years. I only give these in- 

 stances to show how local the birds are in their 

 nesting habits, and consequently how easy it is 

 for anyone interested to kee]) a record of them, 

 and in this way note the gradual but alarmingly 

 rapid decrease of the bird population. 



When I bought my farm at Redding, Conn., 

 five vears ago, I located all the birds between 

 my iiouse and the depiit, a distance of 2% miles. 

 In my front yard, or around the house, there 

 were three pair of iiouse wrens. Tiiere was 

 also a robin's nest in the eaves of my studio. 

 In each of six large si)ruce trees tiiere was one 

 or more, and one in the sugar-maple tree. Tiiere 

 was one barn-swallow's nest in the horse shed, 

 one in the loft of tiie wagon shed, and one 

 chimney swift's nest near the barn-swallow's 

 nest in the loft of the wagon shed. There was 

 a large colony of the latter birds in the chim- 

 neys of my farm house, and a ])hoebe bird's nest 

 ni the chicken coop. 



At the ]\Iark Twain Library corner tiiere was 

 an oriole's nest in tiie large maple tree, and a 

 blue bird's nest in the iiollow of a spruce tree. 

 The chirping sparrows' nests, I have kept no 

 track of. Turning the corner to go to the depot, 

 tiiere was an oriole's in the elm tree, a catbird's 

 nest in the brusii at tiie right. Tlien we came 

 to the home of a yellow-breasted chat, tiien to 

 tiie iiigli bridge witii a piioebe bird's nest under- 

 neatii it ; next to a farm with a rose-breasted 

 grosbeak ; then to a thicket with an indigo bunt- 

 ing and a humming bird's nest, botii of which 

 birds you could find every morning between 

 nine and eleven perelied on the telei>hone wires 

 opposite their respective homes. After tiiis, you 

 passed a pond filled with buttonwood busiies in 

 which the red-winged blackbirds nested ; tiien a 

 bank which the second year was used by a bank- 

 swallow; then the open meadow through which 

 the Saugatuck flows where the bobolink nested; 

 next a robin's nest in a tree to the left-hand 

 side of the road and then three pairs of orioles 

 in the elms near the depot. I omitted one blue- 

 winged warbler in the pasture lot. 



The various birds enumerated above were 

 those which occupied positions adjoining the 

 public road, consequently ones which I could 

 observe without leaving my carriage while 

 driving to and from the depot. Tiie orioles 

 next door to my house have transferred their 

 abiding place to one of my spruce trees because 

 their old homestead site in the boughs of a big 

 maple is gone, the tree having died and been 

 cut down. The three families of wrens have 

 met with some accident, and none have come 



