Birds & Nature Magazine 



35 



My Bird Family 



By CRAIG S. THOMS 



SEVENTEEN children are a good 

 many for a twentieth century fam- 

 ily; yet this is the number of birds 

 that regularly come into my 

 backyard, and for whose visits I watch 

 as eagerly as ever did mother for return- 

 ing sons and daughters. 



In the spring the bluebirds are the first 

 to greet me ; they usually come in late 

 March to peep in at last year's nest, which 

 they built in an old flicker hole that I 

 found in a dead branch and set up in my 

 5^ard for them. They found their nest as 

 they had left it in the autumn, and seemed 

 pleased. During April they are in and out 

 every few days to make friendly calls, 

 and to see that no other birds usurp the 

 nesting place where they successfully 

 reared last year's brood. Nearly every 

 time they come they have a passage at arms 

 with the English sparrows, just to keep 

 them well reminded of the many times 

 they were whipped last year. Although 

 the sparrows are numerous, strange to say, 

 none of them dare to build in the blue- 

 bird's home, though the bluebirds are ab- 

 sent for days at a time. The question of 

 ownership was settled last year in many 

 encounters in which the bluebirds demon- 

 strated their powers, and now the spar- 

 rows keep at a respectful distance. 



What dear old friends the robins are! 

 plain, honest, sociable. How could we 

 keep our lawns and gardens without them ? 

 Their train is on time every spring, and 

 the same ones, accompanied by others, 

 alight at the same depot. Home again! 

 and a thousand times welcome. ''Have 

 a drink from the pan at the hydrant; 

 snatch a worm from the lawn; take a 

 bath in the wooden trough; sing from the 

 same old tree and build your nest among 

 its shady branches; your young I'll protect 

 if I have to kill every cat in the neighbor- 

 hood." 



The goldfinches peep in on me every 

 spring just to tell me that they have not 

 been far away, but did not like to be 

 seen until the homely, work-a-day garb of 



winter had been discarded for the new 

 wedding suit of gold and black. They 

 perch upon my gate ; swing upon some 

 long spears of grass by the back fence; 

 take a sip of water from the trough ; and, 

 in the sweetest notes that bird ever ut- 

 tered, tell me that love never changes, 

 that it is the same in winter as in summer, 

 and as faithful in plain plumage as in 



gay. 



The wood-thrush calls very informally. 

 He slips in to the back fence, perches there 

 a while, and looks at the house wistfully 

 to see if I am at home. Bless his heart! 

 He has come to invite me to the ravine 

 grove — which is to hold his nest — to hear 

 his matin songs. And I'll go; for there 

 are no songs like his, save that of his near 

 cousin — the hermit-thrush. It is a song 

 of the heart, and of the truest, sweetest 

 and most innocent heart among all the 

 feathered folk. It is an evening prayer of 

 thanksgiving — such a mingling of hope, 

 contentment and thankfulness as I have 

 heard from no other voice in Nature. 



One morning in May, as I look out 

 of the window, I seem to see many wood- 

 thrushes; but upon looking more closely, I 

 observe that they are a little smaller, 

 slightly more olive-colored, and not so 

 heavily spotted upon the breast. The 

 veerys are migrating. They have dropped 

 out of the dark — for most birds migrate 

 at night — to rest and feed and renew old 

 associations. I see them every year, 

 whether the same ones or not, I can not 

 say. For a few days the premises are 

 theirs; they hop along the walk, perch 

 upon the fence, rest upon the wood-pile, 

 come to the very door as though for 

 food. Then next morning, or a few morn- 

 ings later, when I look for them, they are 

 gone. Farther north you will find them 

 singing love songs and building nests. 



Every spring the catbirds look in from 

 the back fence in about the same way. 

 I see them first on the lower board. Evi- 

 dently they want to survey the premises 

 without being seen. When satisfied it is 



