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Bird -Lore 



reflect that the pleasure of seeing such 

 mouths fly open ought to repay the parent 

 birds for their long hours of toil in feeding 

 their young. 



That some observers have failed to note 

 these things is apparent. That was the 

 case when one of the most distinguished 

 of our living ornithologists, in writing of 

 nestlings that have beautiful rose-pink 

 colored mouths, described them as yellow. 

 Still another ornithologist could never 

 have enjoyed the deep, glowing salmon 

 color of other nestlings, or he would not 

 have accepted lantern slides on which the 

 skins of these newly hatched young were 

 represented with the color of dressed 

 chickens just after they have passed the 

 singeing operation. 



Corviis americanus sitting in a tree or on 

 a fence, or even cawing over-head, prob- 

 ably would never have suggested a nick- 

 name for a dusky tenth of our population, 

 but one good look at Crow babies with 

 their red mouths and black skins will con- 

 vince any one, that the term Jim Crow has 

 more than the color of fancy about it. — 

 Althea R. Sherman, National, Iowa. 



A Balloon Bird 



The mishaps to young birds are so 

 numerous and so varied that ordinarily 

 they are not matters of special interest, 

 except in so far as they may suggest the 

 means for lessening the destruction of bird 

 life. 



One day last June I found a fledgling, 

 out of the nest, but unable to fly, whose 

 condition was so remarkable that I have 

 thought that a description of it might be 

 of interest to the readers of Bird-lore. 

 The bird, as is usual, was crying ^for food. 

 Its throat was apparently much swollen, 

 but, on closer inspection, I found that the 

 skin was puffed up and seemingly full of 

 air. On the second day, the inflation was 

 much extended, and the bird chirped as if 

 hoarse. 



There was no redness or appearance of 

 inflammation. The skin was dry, and looked 

 somewhat like closely drawn oiled tissue 

 paper. With certain movements, the dis- 



tention partially subsided, but only for a 

 moment. I surmised that there was a 

 rupture somewhere; and I concluded that 

 the little creature's breathing apparatus 

 was pumping the opening under the skin 

 full of air. With no skill in diagnosis, I did 

 what seemed to be the common sense thing 

 and attempted to allow the air to escape 

 by puncturing the skin with a needle. But 

 this afforded no relief, for the reason, as I 

 afterwards saw, that the tissues at once 

 closed on the very small punctures. 



On the third day, the bird's condition 

 was most pitiable. The little creature did 

 not seem to be suffering much; and as it 

 cried, lustily as it could, fanning its little 

 wings, it was easy to imagine that it was 

 appealing for relief, as well as for food. 



The inflation was spreading over its 

 breast, head and shoulders; and large 

 blisters were appearing under its wings. Its 

 little black eyes, like two round-head tacks, 

 were in two depressions, from which the skin 

 seemed to be at the point of pulling away. 

 The skull and slender neck were visible 

 through the transparent membrane, on 

 which were a few feathers; and the tension 

 was so great that the bill was drawn down 

 toward the breast. It was a fairly good 

 X-Ray exhibit — a scrawny little thing with 

 its tender skin blown up like a bladder. 

 And the distressing part was in the appar- 

 ent fact that a little pair of lungs, probably 

 through a rupture in the windpipe, were 

 serving as bellows that were slowly skin- 

 ning the little bird alive. I saw that some- 

 thing must be done, and without delay, 

 and with a pair of clean, sharp-pointed 

 scissors, I made a slit under the throat. 

 Immediately the skin went down, but only 

 to be partly blown out again. Another 

 incision, then another and another, on the 

 breast, at the side of the neck — wherever 

 the air was pressing^for release. A trained 

 eye might have found the leak and a skilled 

 hand might have stopped it. 



I had neither, but what was lacking in 

 expertness was possibly made up in sym- 

 pathy; and I saw that I was working along 

 fairly correct lines. I could not hold the 

 skin down, or lack it or glue it; but I could 

 soften it with a little sweet oil — then the 



