424 



Bird -Lore 



balsam hedge (partly dead). From the 

 windows of study or porch I have seen 

 exactly seventy different species, a num- 

 ber which would be slightly larger if I 

 could have differentiated the Ducks that 

 have flown by overhead. Thirty-four have 

 eaten from the shelf, with an additional 

 seven which have either eaten from the 

 crumbs that fell from this rich birds' 

 table or have bathed in or drunk from the 

 bath placed halfway between the shelf 

 and the hedge. 



One of the curious things about such a 

 shelf (after three years' observation) is the 

 frequency with which one species is seen 

 one season and the scarcity or absence of 

 it in the same season of the succeeding 

 year. In the winter of 1916-17 a pair of 

 Cardinals never missed a day (after the 

 first week when the male tested the food 

 alone before allowing his more sober- 

 colored mate to eat thereof) from Jan- 

 uary 22 to March 21. In a similar fashion, 

 the little Red-breasted Nuthatch ('Mouse- 

 bird' we call him in our household, so 

 much does he resemble that animal as he 

 runs over the shelf) was an occasional visi- 

 tor in 1915-16, and unintermittently the 

 next year from November 22 to May 3. 

 But neither of these has been seen at all 

 during the last winter (though at least 

 four pairs of Cardinals have wintered in 

 the village). The Chickadees were con- 

 stant friends the first two years, but this 

 year they stayed with me a scant week in 

 December. The Evening Grosbeaks can 

 never be depended on, except to avoid the 

 shelf itself, though profiting by what falls 

 from it and by the bath. Similar varia- 

 tions are recorded of the Hudsonian 

 Chickadee, the Redpoll and the White- 

 crowned Sparrow. The White-throated 

 Sparrow, that companionable little min- 

 ister with his shiall white necktie, is nearly 

 as dependable as the calendar. 



In the early summer the variations de- 

 pend on what is nesting in the neighbor- 

 hood, and one season I can see on the shelf 

 what the next year I will look for in vain. 

 This was noticeably true of the Red- 

 headed Woodpecker. My shelf has fur- 

 nished nothing more comical than a 



mottled young of this species, peering over 

 the edge as it clings to the side; nor has 

 my camera caught anything more pleasing 

 than the same young being fed, unless it 

 is a whole family of Bronzed Crackles 

 being fed in turn. The Catbird, the 

 Thrasher (whom I could stroke on the 

 nest), the House Wren, the Hairy Wood- 

 pecker, (how unapproachable compared 

 with his replica in miniature, the friendly 

 Downy, friendly the year round), the 

 Mourning Dove, the Rose-breasted Gros- 

 beak and the Wood Thrush, are among 

 those whose nests, being near, have been 

 regular visitors to the shelf one year and 

 entirely unseen the next year. 



The early days of May see the bushes 

 and trees alive with Warblers (nineteen of 

 them, which is nearly equivalent to seeing 

 thirty-eight, so different are the two sexes, 

 in color at least), and yet only five have 

 taken a meal at my restaurant: the Black- 

 throated Blue, the Black-throated Green, 

 the Myrtle, the Magnolia, and the Red- 

 start (the latter most frequently). That 

 is not as long a list as the Sparrows, and 

 the difference is due, of course, to the dif- 

 ference in food enjoyed by the different 

 families. The Finches delight in the sun- 

 flower seed, millet, hemp, and suet which 

 are the staple articles of food I provide, 

 with side-dishes of nuts, bread, meat, and 

 the like. And, oh, if only the Flickers 

 would grace the table instead of limiting 

 their attentions to probing my lawn, nest- 

 ing in my trees, and tapping on my roof. 

 And why did it take the Robins, nesting, 

 several of them, within 50 feet of the lilac 

 tree against which the shelf is attached, a 

 summer and a half to care, or dare, to 

 eat of the delectable suet? On the other 

 hand, why should the Cowbirds come in 

 from the fields, a mile or more away, to 

 spend so much time eating millet in the 

 center of a city-like village? Is the lazy 

 ha.bit seen in its egg-laying spreading to 

 its eating habits? These are questions I 

 cannot answer, but their very mystery 

 makes the presence of the shelf an unfail- 

 ing delight. 



But I must pass on to telling a few facts, 

 curious or otherwise, concerning my 



