THE ORNITHOLOGIST AND BOTANIST. 



51 



rather than flight; they utter no note of 

 solicitude nor show signs of displeasure 

 at this rude house breaking, and can be 

 taken in hand as easih'as a pet chicken. 

 They move with a staggering walk, or 

 crawl, and get under the nearest object 

 that affords protection from the light. 

 When tossed into the air they take wing 

 and fly far out over the ocean, never 

 pausing to look back after the fate of 

 their one egg. 



As night comes on and the heat of 

 day is sucseeded by the cool of evening, 

 we will hear, just after the tern's voice 

 is hushed, a nasal squeak, in several 

 syllables, delivered very rapidly and in 

 a jerky way. It is the petrel on shore 

 to spend the night in frolic or to propa- 

 gate his race. Like his customs, his 

 voice is peculiar, and musical in a way. 

 On shore the petrel's voice is the only 

 sound that accompanies the ocean's 

 ceasless roar through the solitude of 

 night. 



As morning approaches his notes be- 

 come less frequent, and ceases as the 

 terns rise, and fill the air with their short 

 cries. 



When the single egg is laid on its sau- 

 cer-shaped bed of straw, one of the 

 birds departs to wander over the world 

 of water. It is said that the parents 

 take turns at incubating; as long as 

 there is an egg in the nest, one parent 

 is present, but after the shell bursts 

 and liberates into this world a living, 

 bird, (only about two inches long, cov- 

 ered with sooty down, nearly one fourth 

 his length), the parent that had been so 

 faithful retires, and this little creature 

 is the sole occupant of the nest by day. 

 I can say nothing of the nocturnal visits 

 of the parents, but believe that they feed 

 their progeny by regurgitation. 



This little creature is worthy of more 

 than a passing notice. The observer is 

 instantly impressed with the fact that 

 this mass of down shields a living form. 

 It does not sprawl like the helpless 

 young of the Passeres, but is nearly as 



helpless; by an effort it can stand, and 

 raise its head to gaze at objects, but lo- 

 comotion is beyond its feeble strength 

 except in a very limited degree. It lays 

 at full length with its feet placed by its 

 side and the tip of the bill resting on 

 the ground, usually asleep or in restful 

 inactivity, while its rapid breathing test- 

 ifies that it is not dead. If aroused it 

 raises its head with an air expressive of 

 wonder, very often giving vent to its 

 voice in a few low queaks. All of its 

 movements are accomplished with the 

 impulsiveness of childhood. It is pleas- 

 ingly fearless, gazing at its captor, or 

 making feeble efforts to secure a com- 

 fortable position in the hand, and when 

 this is. accomplished, pleased with the 

 warmth, it will settle down for a nap. 

 When I beheld one of these tiny crea- 

 tures for the first time, I was impressed 

 so forcibly with the love of nature, that 

 I saw, not only a little bii'd, but a young 

 creature, small and helpless but almost 

 sacred, for it was endowed with life 

 from the hand of God. 



BIRD ARRIVALS. 



The order of the coming of birds 

 seems to vary even in towns not far dis- 

 tant. On my grounds, the earliest 

 spring arrival is that of the song-spar- 

 row, and the meadow-lark remains all 

 winter. The junco appears only when 

 snow is on the ground. 



Last year a song sparrow came under 

 my window on February 3rd, and began 

 singing a few daj's after. As this bird 

 is more abundant near streams, I think 

 the fact that "the river runs below," 

 accounts for their earlier appearance 

 here. Robins and blue-birds are some 

 weeks later. Julia M. Hooper. 



To the attentive eye, each moment of 

 the year has its own beauty; and in the 

 same field it beholds every hour a pic- 

 ture that was never seen before and shall 

 never be seen again. — Emerson. 



--s-Sb 



