404 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



F&r Forest and Stream . 

 AN OPEN SECRET. 



(FROM THE GERMAN.) 



E. C. G. 



SHE stood among the roses red, 

 As I came through the waving field; 

 '"A happy day!" was all I said; 



She looked to earth, her face to shield, 

 In silence safest welcome lie*, 

 For wood has ears and field has eyes! 



She plucked a rosebud from off the tree. 



The sweetest in the sunny land, 

 And as she blushing gave it me, 



I kissed it from her lovely hand. 

 The rose I kissed, no harm there lies, 

 For wood has ears and field has eyes. 



Alas, that I have grown so white! 



My cheek all pale does love reveal! 



Who sees me now will guess at sight 



What all my secret heart does feel, 



And where my love andlouging lies, 



For wood has ears and field has eyes. 



«&»-$»- ■ 



For Forest and Stream. 

 OTHER DAYS. 



JiV MRS. EtWCE U. LAMCSRTON. 



COKE sing to me of the sad sea waves 

 That sigh on a pebbly shore, 

 That foam and surge with a solemn wail 

 For days that will come no more. 



Bring to mine ear aa the night shades fall 

 Echoes from caverns so deep, 

 Under the sea, the beautiful sea. 

 Green dells where the mermaids sleep. 



Twine me a wreath of the coral rare, 

 Branching like spray 'mid the wave,] 

 Pure as crystals that gleam on the shores, 

 Shores that the wide waters lave. 



Tell of the sMpa that go sailing on, 



With canvass spread to the breeze, 

 The lonely wife and the sailor's bairns, 

 Ah! whisper me not of these. 



For winds will howl and the breakers roar, 

 And sea sails scream in affright; 

 God pities them when the fire barns low, 

 And the storm fiend walks the night. 



Linger in dream? sweet airs of my youth, 

 Fragrant of stmji fch it are lied, 

 Waftsing sweet Lacense over the graves, 

 Low graves of the early dead, 



Vision return of a sandy cliff. 

 A. lightrliouse towering high, 

 Of tangled moss and the tiny shells. 

 And boats that are 31 fan 1 .1 nija. 



Come ch;\nt again to the weary soul 

 Nature's melodious lays, 

 A silvery sound, an ocean's bre ii a, 

 Sweet an bhei n o E o t u 3 r d ay s . 

 Rochester, N. 3f., January 21, 1874. 



— -*.«►<*- 



OUR WINTER BIRDS. 



T is generally taken for granted that we have none of 

 ^ oui feathered friends left uswhmi the Wild winds of win- 

 ter have sent the last of our songsters hurrying front our 

 presence in town and city. The majority of city folk, aye 

 and of the country too, seem to think that our forests and 

 fields are annually depopulated with the falling of leaves 

 and the appearance of snow. That such is not the case 

 onlv those who have studied the habits of birds in open air 

 can testify. Our woods and fields are alive with a vast 

 host, busily searching trees and shrubs, weeds and grass, 

 for insects and seeds. Along our coast, however, are birds 

 the most abundant, principally visitors from the north, to 

 whom our winter winds are as balmy zephyrs, and our 

 storms and ice but small inconvenience. From that vast 

 "liquid magazine of nature," the Atlantic, they draw their 

 food, and upon its surface assemble in noisy flocks. 



March is a good month in which to take a review of the 

 winter, that is, for us who are interested m birds, as in that 

 month'most of our winter birds depart for the north, and 

 the first harbingers of spring put in appearance from tha 

 south. Of the tJiree hundred species known to have been 

 found in New England, about one hundred remain through 

 the winter, some of them residing here throughout the year, 

 but the majority coming from the north in autumn, de- 

 parting in the spring. That the readers of the Forest and 

 STREAM may have a general acquaintance with them, I 

 purpose to mention briefly the species, speaking chiefly 

 from my own observation. 



The robin is the best known of our early arrivals; the last 

 of February brings a few from the south, but March sends 

 a hundred for every one of February, and the air is vocal 

 with their music by the last of that month. Though gen- 

 erally supposed to pass the winter in warmer climes, it can 

 be found nearly every month in the year by a close ob- 

 server. The last week of January I saw a flock of thirty- 

 five flying high in the air. They frequent the woods in cold 

 weather, subsisting upon such berries and grubs as they can 



The blue bird, in his cerulean coat, and with his pleas- 

 ing warble, is a welcome arrival about the same time as the 

 robin.' If there is any one bird that brings a blessing with 

 -it, 'tis the blue bird. 



There is a little fellow who stays with us the year round, 

 and who does a vast amount of good in his silent, unobtru- 

 sive way. I mean the chickadee, black cap. Titmouse 

 is his proper name, but his well known name of chickadee 

 h more simple and appropriate, as it is so called from his 

 cheerful song. Almost any day in winter you may see him 



gleaming among your apple trees, now hanging head down, 

 now flying by the window with a glad chirp and a glance 

 of his bright black eye. He is a merry fellow, this little 

 downy chickadee, and winter would be dreary enough 

 without him. 



Another member of his family is here, the creeper, "but 

 not very often seen, though he and the nuthatches are 

 busily^ at work upon the bark of the trees, dodging around 

 them in their queer way, not letting a single obtainable 

 grub escape. 



If the month be very mild the white-bellied swallow 

 sometimes, though erroneously called martin, will gladden 

 us with his presence. He is the one with whom the blue 

 birds have such comical squabbles over the possession of the 

 martin houses. 



It is rarely that the cedar bird leaves with us a single 

 representative during winter, but he has heen known to do 

 so. Of course you know the bird, with its cinnamon-col- 

 ored coat and yellow tipped tail, its wings with tips of red, 

 like sealing wax. 



Perhaps, if everything be favorable, his cousin, the wax- 

 wing, may be seen, but it is hardly possible, as he is a rare 

 bird and prefers the air of Greenland and Hudson's Bay to 

 ours. 



If you are an observer of birds, you may have noticed 

 one about the size of the robin, though with a longer tail, 

 of a gray color, and having a sharp, hooked bill, following 

 the flocks of small birds and preying upon them. It is the 

 shrike, or "butcher bird," sometimes called the "nine-kil- 

 ler," from an idea that he always kills just nir - birds, 

 beetles, etc., before eating any Whether he does kill that 

 exact number or not, I would not like to say; but he has 

 one peculiarity that renders him especially noticeable; 

 after killing anything he hangs it up to dry upon a thorn 

 or whatever is convenient, leaving it until he feels like 

 eating it. I know of one kept in a cage who retained this 

 habit, always hanging up the raw meat given him on some 

 part of the cage. 



The pine grosbeak is sometimes found in spruce and fir 

 thickets, some winters being of quite common occurrence, 

 and others not arriving from the ice fields of the. north at 

 all. It subsists upon the seeds of the pine and other cones, 

 and lias a thick strong beak for the purpose of tearing them 

 apart. The crossbills, however, beat the grosbeak in the 

 manner of beaks, their mandibles crossing one another, 

 and having a peculiar twist that enables them to extract the 

 seeds in an admirable manner. There are two species of 

 the latter, the red and the white winged, and they both 

 stay when they come all winter. The red crossbill has 

 been known to breed in Maine as early as February. 



Some of the goldfinches remain with us, and the fields are 

 often visited by great flocks of red poll linnets, who do a 

 great deal of good, eating the seeds of the many noxious 

 weeds. 



Along the shore and in old fields are immense flocks of 

 snow buntings, their plumage of blended white, black and 

 gray, admirably suited to their haunts, the brown weed- 

 Stalks and the gravel of the beach. 



That very rare bird, the Lapland longspur, is sometimes 

 found in these flocks. 



The shorclarks, or skylarks may be found upon the 

 islands in our bays and upon the shores of our mainland. 

 If 1 only had space here, I would like to give you Audu- 

 bon's description of its nest, built in barren Labrador, but 

 this article is not intended for description but enumeration 

 of species. With the pen of even that great naturalist, 

 Audubon, I could not. give a sufficiently accurate descrip- 

 tion; the best way to obtain a good idea of any bird is to 

 see it alive, or well preserved. The museum at Central 

 Park is easily accessible, where will be found most of our 

 birds with their names attached. . 



The little blue snow bird is a winter resident, and comes 

 to us in October. Pare instances are known of their breed 

 ing south of Maine. I found a young bird unfledged on 

 'the Hoosac mountain, Mass., in July, 1873. 



There are four species of sparrow here in winter, the song, 

 tree, swamp and fox sparrow. The one we see oftenest is 

 the song sparrow. Who can forget its melodious song 

 when the fields are dead and bare? 



Of course everybody knows that audacious corn thief the 

 red wing blackbird; he has a bad name in some localities, 

 but in New England he can't muster in sufficient force to 

 do the damage he does in some places. Look for him the 

 first of March, it is his time of arrival. 



The purple grakle, or crow blackbird, . and his near 

 cousin, the rusty grakle, arrive somewhere from the first 

 to the twentieth of March. The latter is rarely seen, but 

 the former is well known, making his presence felt by his 

 harsh notes and sailing through the air in large flocks 



Of all noisy birds, the blue jay is the noisiest at certain 

 seasons. He lives with us the whole year, and we may 

 suppose he has sore need — when the fields are covered with 

 snow — of the hoards of nuts, acorns and corn which he 

 secretes during the autumn months. He and his hated 

 neighbor the crow, are equally hated by the farmer, though, 

 I think, without cause. Weighed in the balance, the good 

 and evil they perform, I am confident the latter would 

 kick the "beam. The crows that winter here are probably 

 from the north, our summer crow moving south as winter 

 comes on, giving room to these. It's a hard living they get, 

 when even the traditional "old horse" is frozen solid. 



The last of March we hear the pewee or phebe, "phebe! 

 phebe!'" The wintry winds seem to lose some of their 

 rigorous cold when these sweet simple notes are borne to 



our cars. It is among the first of our birds to set up house- 

 keeping in spring. 



The rattle of the kingfisher is heard along our shore the 

 last of the month. 



There are two species of woodpeckers resident here, 

 called the downy and hairy woodpeckers from the texture 

 of their feathers. They are both black and white, the 

 males with a scarlet crescent adorning the backs of their 

 heads. The downy is the smaller species, being the small- 

 est woodpecker we have. The three-toed woodpeckers 

 sometimes occur, though rarely. The golden wing wood- 

 pecker is the most common as well as the handsomest of 

 the family; he is best known by his local names, such as, 

 "flicker," "yellow hammer," etc. Though a very tew may 

 winter here, March is as early as any are generally seen. 



Of the eight or nine species of owls f oun d in New Eng 

 land, probably the most common are the mottled and great 

 horned* The former is the "screech owl," so dreaded by 

 the children who have heard it cry. The latter visits the 

 farm and barn yards during the night, and takes as lawful 

 prey such hens and chickens as he may find. The Acadian, 

 or "saw- whet owl," is the smallest species we have, and in 

 some localities the most plentiful. His cry resembles the 

 filing of a saw. Along the coast, among the sand hills, 

 may be found the snowy or arctic owl, the largest of the 

 family and a rare prize. 



If you live long enough and search diligently you may 

 possibly find the golden eagle, for he sometimes comes 

 down from his mountain fastnesses during winter. The 

 white headed eagle, however, is not so rare and may be 

 frequently seen on the coast during winter. He is a mean 

 bird, with not half the noble qualities of the fish-hawk he 

 so often robs. Now that his purveyor, the fish-hawk, is 

 absent, he lives on dead fish and carrion; he may be easily 

 induced to show himself for a dead horse left on the beach 

 or in the pastures. 



There are six species of hawks, any one of which is 

 worth looking for. The most common are the red-tailed 

 and red-shouldered, generally known as "hen hawks," from 

 the havoc they commit in the poultry yards. They some- 

 times lay their eggs by the last of this month. Though 

 rarely seen, the smallest of the family, the sparrow, and 

 the next in size, the pigeon hawks, ere residents in winter. 

 The gos-hawk is abundant in some places, while the noble 

 jer-falcon is so rare as to be considered an accidental visitor. 

 Who has not heard the whirr and drumming of the grouse 

 in autumn? The ruffed grouse is the only representative 

 left us, excepting a few, very few, of the pinnated grouse 

 or "prairie chickens." It is a resident here all the year, 

 and subsists in winter upon berries and leaves. 



The little quail is becoming more plentiful every year, 

 and if protected will soon be as abundant as twenty years 

 ago, before the great snow storm buried o many of them. 

 Towards the last of March the wild goose s seen steering 

 northward; high over head, in wedge like columns, they 

 cleave the air, speeding towards their summer homes in 

 far off Labrador or Greenland. They have been known to 

 breed in Massachusetts. 



"Black duck," sprig-tail," "old wife," "golden eye," 

 "dipper," "harlequin," and half a dozen others of the duck 

 family, including the famous eider, pass the winter in our 

 waters. 



The "gannet" and cormorant are sometimes seen off the 

 capes. 



Of the plovers but one species, the "rock plover," or 

 purple sandpiper, remains. 



Six species of gulls, the vulture of the ocean, may be 

 found, picturesque elements in a winter scene, upon our 

 marshes, and about our rocky headlands. 



"Mother Carey's chickens," or petrel, two species, play 

 about our coast all winter. 



The great northern diver, or loon, is an inhabitant of our 

 waters throughout the year, but his startling, quavering 

 cry is not heard at this season. 



Two kinds of grebes, or "devil divers," exercise their arts 

 to the discomfiture of gunners. They join the throng that hies 

 to the north at the opening of spring. I wish I could in- 

 clude in the list that prince of divers, the great auk, but as 

 he is supposed to be extinct, 'twill be best to omit him, 

 He used to frequent our waters though. The puffins, guil- 

 lemots and murres, and divers other divers, are well versed 

 in the art of navigation, and visit our shores annually, 

 when the ice fields north of Scotia get uncomfortably 

 thick. 



Our list closes with the last and least of the divers, the 

 sea dove, or little auk, who is sometimes blown out of his 

 latitude, and left to the mercy of the inhabitants of the . 

 coast. 



This catalogue is necessarily meagre, covering as it does 

 so much ground; but after this introduction, I hope to be 

 able to present a fuller and more interesting account of the 

 arrival and departure and time of nesting of our birds. 



F. B. 



*This owl lays his eggs in Massachusetts as early as February. 



«**». 



—St. Augustine, Florida, has on exhibition a remarkable 

 fragment of stone, taken from the ruins of an ancient 

 structure on Observation Island, in Lake Okeechobee. It 

 is of immense weight and solidity, and, what is most re- 

 markable, unlike any rock on this continent. It resembles 

 granite more nearly than any other, and is of a remarkably 

 beautiful appearance In its structure. It looks like granite 

 granulated with innumerable particles of a glittering sub- 

 stance resembling gold. This fragment may develop some- 

 thing startling in the history of that part of the continent. 

 The Indians have reported frequently that there were ruins 

 of an ancient building on one of the islands of that lake, 

 and this confirms it. 



