Notes from Field and Study 



iSS 



This invitation lured me to the great 

 meadows bordering the Connecticut River 

 whence a sullen 'chug-chug' announced 

 the progress of a farm tractor. That the 

 machine was 'doing its bit' on a New 

 Hampshire farm the increasing acres of 

 brown furrows showed plainly — the large 

 green wheels rose and dipped over the 

 undulating land. I followed them and so 

 made my discovery of a power in the 

 tractor not advertised in commercial 

 catalogues; for even as the Pied Piper 

 charmed the rats of HameUn with his 

 strange notes, so did this throbbing engine 

 draw the birds. They hopped and flew 

 ahead of the wheels; there were large birds 

 and small birds, birds of brilliant and of dull 

 plumage. Ours is an old farm, dating from 

 Colonial days, when the pioneers left 

 their hill homes (secure from prowling 

 Indians), to raise, in common, crops on 

 these fertile river meadows. Until this 

 spring of 191 7 no other power than horse 

 or ox has moved the plow, yet now, when 

 the novel monster moves over the acreage, 

 the birds, with indifference, just keep be- 

 yond the wheels — their attitude is absolute 

 unconcern. I kept my eyes on the ground in 

 front of the tractor where the birds were 

 hunting grubs and bugs. The dark, rain- 

 filled clouds overhead intensified the color- 

 ing of the feathered gleaners — it was as 

 though a flock of tropic butterflies were 

 balancing on the dun earth. Here four Scar- 

 let Tanagers, gorgeous in their red and 

 black, fairly burned the soil; there several 

 dainty Canadian Warblers explored; be- 

 yond, tiny Redstarts, fan-tails spread, like 

 shuttlecocks dyed flame and black, flew 

 up and down, up and down, in ceaseless 

 play. Satiny, soft-hued Kingbirds, au- 

 dacious Bobolinks, Field Sparrows, and 

 other birds garnered on the ground, while 

 above, the Swallows skimmed and dipped 

 past the steaming funnel. Then the clouds 

 dropped rain and I left the river-rimmed 

 meadows to hurry for the distant house. 

 But I soon forgot the raindrops, for between 

 the stables and the corn-barn I came upon 

 a band of Warblers feeding on the ground. 

 There were male Chestnut-sided Warblers 

 picking up invisible bits; one bird let me 



stand beside him while he pecked in the 

 road. Some very friendly Black-throated 

 Blue Warblers and a Black-throated 

 Green Warbler picked up their supper, 

 chicken-like, at my feet. There were Red- 

 starts everywhere, both male and female; 

 they fluttered into the cow-stables, 

 allowing the herdsman to catch them. One 

 moved between the ponderous hind feet 

 of the work horses, flying onto their 

 driver's boot. These Redstarts were very 

 confiding with me, and I watched in 

 fascination the Japanesy little Warblers. 

 One Redstart, feeding beside me, would 

 dart into the air to the height of my head 

 — once, plop ! down he came on my hat- 

 brim and hopped around it ! 



This bewildering springtime brought its 

 tragedies; such confidence was sometimes 

 betrayed — ^ witness an exquisite dead Parula 

 Warbler (a female), and a handsome male 

 Magnolia Warbler, and one of the Red- 

 starts — these last, with their heads 

 snapped off and lying beside their bodies. 



I have always known and observed the 

 bird-life about me, but never do I recall 

 such myriads of birds. To a patriotic 

 farmer's wife it seems a hopeful sign that 

 our feathered friends in strong battalions 

 will help us feed the world and win the war. 

 — Katharine Upham Hunter, West 

 Claremont, N. H., May 24, June 3, 15, 

 1917. 



Our Back-Yard Visitors 



Perhaps many city people think bird- 

 study is a too far distant subject to take 

 up, that in order to study and know the 

 birds one must be out-of-doors the whole 

 time, or else take many trips to the woods 

 or country. But such is not the case, for 

 if one keeps his eyes open he can see many 

 of these bird treasures in his own garden. 

 In looking over our lists, it is surprising 

 to find that until June i, 191 7, we have 

 seen about fifty different kinds of birds in 

 our yard, and probably then have not seen 

 all that were there, as many of the observa- 

 tions were short ones. 



Throughout the winter we were regularly 

 visited by three Chickadees, three or four 



