﻿April, 
  1907 
  

  

  AMERICAN 
  HOMES 
  AND 
  GARDENS 
  

  

  iu 
  

  

  safe 
  from 
  tabby, 
  and 
  can 
  see 
  what 
  enemies 
  or 
  rivals 
  are 
  about. 
  

   When 
  the 
  coast 
  is 
  clear, 
  they 
  dash 
  across 
  the 
  lawn 
  to 
  take 
  a 
  

   sip 
  of 
  water 
  from 
  the 
  pan 
  under 
  the 
  hydrant's 
  dripping 
  

   nozzle, 
  or 
  snatch 
  a 
  morsel 
  of 
  food 
  from 
  the 
  dish 
  on 
  the 
  raised 
  

   platform 
  that 
  I 
  made, 
  lest 
  my 
  neighbor's 
  cat 
  steal 
  upon 
  

   them 
  unawares. 
  Often 
  a 
  strain 
  of 
  music 
  rewards 
  me 
  for 
  my 
  

   attention 
  to 
  their 
  wants, 
  and 
  their 
  finest 
  selections 
  — 
  for 
  the 
  

   catbird 
  has 
  many 
  — 
  are 
  usually 
  given 
  on 
  cloudy 
  or 
  rainy 
  days, 
  

   when, 
  seemingly, 
  they 
  think 
  I 
  need 
  them 
  most. 
  

  

  Whether 
  the 
  catbird 
  or 
  kingbird 
  calls 
  on 
  me 
  first, 
  I 
  do 
  not 
  

   remember, 
  but 
  there 
  is 
  not 
  much 
  difference. 
  Do 
  birds 
  know 
  

   that 
  we 
  care 
  for 
  them? 
  They 
  seem 
  to 
  feel 
  so 
  contented 
  and 
  

   protected 
  when 
  near 
  us 
  if 
  we 
  do. 
  Some 
  morning 
  in 
  May, 
  as 
  I 
  

   study 
  at 
  the 
  open 
  window, 
  I 
  hear 
  a 
  familiar 
  "Bee-bee-bee," 
  

   and, 
  looking 
  out, 
  there 
  sits 
  the 
  kingbird 
  on 
  the 
  identical 
  spot 
  

   on 
  the 
  clothesline 
  wire 
  that 
  was 
  such 
  a 
  favorite 
  place 
  with 
  him 
  

   last 
  year; 
  and 
  he 
  seems 
  to 
  feel 
  as 
  safe 
  as 
  though 
  all 
  my 
  time 
  

   were 
  spent 
  in 
  guarding 
  him 
  from 
  harm. 
  His 
  notes 
  are 
  not 
  a 
  

   song, 
  for 
  he 
  is 
  not 
  from 
  a 
  singing 
  family, 
  but 
  just 
  to 
  apprise 
  

   me 
  of 
  his 
  presence, 
  and 
  let 
  me 
  know 
  that 
  he 
  has 
  run 
  the 
  gaunt- 
  

  

  their 
  blossoms, 
  perfumes, 
  and 
  songs, 
  flashed 
  into 
  my 
  imagina- 
  

   tion 
  in 
  a 
  twinkling, 
  and 
  I 
  lived 
  them 
  through 
  and 
  through 
  in 
  a 
  

   moment. 
  

  

  Last 
  year 
  a 
  pair 
  of 
  Baltimores 
  built 
  in 
  the 
  tip 
  top 
  of 
  my 
  

   corner 
  tree, 
  and 
  came 
  regularly 
  to 
  the 
  meals 
  of 
  boiled 
  egg- 
  

   yolk 
  and 
  breakfast 
  food 
  that 
  I 
  prepared 
  for 
  them. 
  They 
  were 
  

   generous 
  in 
  repayment, 
  for 
  the 
  male 
  favored 
  me 
  daily 
  with 
  

   his 
  exuberant 
  songs 
  ; 
  and 
  when 
  the 
  young 
  came 
  off 
  the 
  nest 
  two 
  

   of 
  them 
  were 
  considerate 
  enough 
  to 
  fly 
  down 
  upon 
  the 
  lawn 
  — 
  

   presumably 
  in 
  their 
  efforts 
  to 
  reach 
  a 
  distant 
  tree 
  — 
  where 
  I 
  

   secured 
  their 
  photographs. 
  

  

  For 
  a 
  little 
  while 
  each 
  spring 
  the 
  worms 
  seem 
  to 
  be 
  getting 
  

   the 
  better 
  of 
  my 
  box 
  elder 
  trees, 
  sometimes 
  almost 
  stripping 
  

   them 
  of 
  leaves; 
  but 
  I 
  am 
  compensated 
  in 
  part 
  by 
  the 
  songs 
  of 
  

   the 
  rose-breasted 
  grosbeak 
  that 
  feeds 
  and 
  sings 
  by 
  turns 
  in 
  

   their 
  high 
  tops. 
  W 
  7 
  hat 
  a 
  smooth, 
  flowing, 
  limpid 
  strain 
  it 
  

   is 
  ! 
  Yet, 
  at 
  times 
  in 
  the 
  ardency 
  of 
  his 
  love 
  it 
  rises 
  so 
  nearly 
  

   to 
  the 
  ecstatic 
  quality 
  of 
  the 
  oriole's 
  song 
  that 
  I 
  have 
  not 
  in- 
  

   frequently 
  mistaken 
  one 
  for 
  the 
  other. 
  This 
  somewhat 
  

   lethargic 
  finch 
  has 
  never 
  paid 
  any 
  attention 
  to 
  the 
  food 
  and 
  

  

  The 
  Brown 
  Creeper 
  Visits 
  

  

  Us 
  in 
  Winter 
  

  

  Only 
  

  

  Downy's 
  Large 
  Cousin 
  the 
  Hairy 
  Woodpecker 
  

  

  Remains 
  with 
  Us 
  All 
  the 
  Year 
  and 
  Finds 
  

  

  Plenty 
  to 
  Eat 
  in 
  Winter 
  

  

  The 
  Black 
  Capped 
  Chickadee 
  

  

  Is 
  a 
  Permanent 
  Guest 
  

  

  the 
  Year 
  Through 
  

  

  let 
  of 
  dangers 
  successfully 
  all 
  the 
  way 
  to 
  South 
  America 
  and 
  

   back. 
  His 
  plumage 
  is 
  brighter 
  than 
  when 
  he 
  left 
  in 
  the 
  

   autumn, 
  as 
  though 
  his 
  grayish-black 
  coat 
  had 
  been 
  thoroughly 
  

   brushed. 
  Last 
  year 
  his 
  mate 
  selected 
  a 
  high 
  box 
  elder 
  at 
  the 
  

   foot 
  of 
  the 
  yard 
  in 
  which 
  to 
  build 
  their 
  nest, 
  and 
  it 
  came 
  near 
  

   being 
  made 
  of 
  the 
  family 
  linen, 
  for 
  several 
  times 
  I 
  observed 
  

   him 
  make 
  a 
  dive 
  at 
  some 
  handkerchiefs 
  which 
  had 
  been 
  spread 
  

   upon 
  the 
  lawn 
  to 
  dry. 
  They 
  proved 
  too 
  heavy 
  for 
  his 
  wings, 
  

   however, 
  and 
  some 
  bits 
  of 
  rags 
  and 
  cotton 
  batten 
  were 
  substi- 
  

   tuted, 
  which 
  he 
  bore 
  off 
  in 
  triumph. 
  I 
  am 
  sure 
  they 
  would 
  

   build 
  there 
  again 
  did 
  they 
  know 
  of 
  the 
  nesting 
  material 
  I 
  have 
  

   on 
  hand 
  for 
  them. 
  When 
  nesting 
  time 
  arrives 
  I 
  shall 
  exhibit 
  

   my 
  treasures 
  and 
  see 
  if 
  I 
  can 
  not 
  persuade 
  them 
  to 
  bring 
  their 
  

   nest 
  to 
  the 
  materials. 
  

  

  What 
  a 
  surprise 
  and 
  delight 
  the 
  first 
  Baltimore 
  oriole 
  is! 
  

   I 
  was 
  dressing 
  before 
  the 
  mirror 
  one 
  morning 
  with 
  my 
  back 
  

   toward 
  a 
  window, 
  when 
  there 
  flashed 
  into 
  the 
  looking 
  glass 
  

   from 
  the 
  tree 
  before 
  the 
  window 
  the 
  first 
  oriole 
  of 
  the 
  season. 
  

   It 
  was 
  an 
  old 
  bird, 
  for 
  the 
  body 
  plumage 
  was 
  deep 
  orange-red; 
  

   and 
  while 
  I 
  watched 
  him 
  in 
  the 
  mirror 
  he 
  regaled 
  me 
  with 
  

   his 
  choicest 
  strain. 
  The 
  months 
  of 
  May 
  and 
  June, 
  with 
  all 
  

  

  water 
  which 
  I 
  place 
  for 
  the 
  other 
  birds. 
  He 
  seems 
  to 
  have 
  

   small 
  powers 
  of 
  observation 
  and 
  to 
  be 
  fully 
  absorbed 
  in 
  his 
  

   own 
  affairs. 
  His 
  mate 
  never 
  brings 
  her 
  nest 
  into 
  my 
  yard 
  like 
  

   those 
  of 
  the 
  oriole, 
  robin, 
  kingbird, 
  bluejay, 
  bluebird, 
  and 
  

   wren. 
  I 
  usually 
  find 
  it 
  in 
  a 
  grove 
  just 
  out 
  of 
  the 
  city, 
  or 
  in 
  

   some 
  wooded 
  ravine, 
  not 
  quite 
  near 
  enough 
  to 
  be 
  friendly, 
  nor 
  

   far 
  enough 
  away 
  to 
  be 
  exposed 
  to 
  the 
  dangers 
  of 
  the 
  wild. 
  

  

  One 
  week 
  in 
  May 
  the 
  worms 
  of 
  my 
  box 
  elder 
  trees 
  brought 
  

   me 
  a 
  visitor 
  that 
  T 
  can 
  hardly 
  reckon 
  in 
  my 
  bird 
  family. 
  The 
  

   bobolink, 
  as 
  all 
  know, 
  is 
  a 
  bird 
  of 
  the 
  low 
  meadows; 
  but 
  for 
  

   three 
  or 
  four 
  days 
  one 
  fed 
  in 
  my 
  tree-tops 
  and 
  regaled 
  me 
  with 
  

   the 
  bubbling, 
  rippling, 
  gurgling, 
  irrepressibly 
  ecstatic 
  strains 
  

   that 
  come 
  from 
  the 
  throat 
  of 
  no 
  other 
  startling, 
  and 
  which 
  

   carried 
  me 
  back 
  to 
  my 
  barefooted 
  days 
  when 
  these 
  birds 
  were 
  

   so 
  plentiful 
  upon 
  the 
  yet 
  unbroken 
  meadows 
  of 
  Illinois. 
  

  

  No 
  other 
  member 
  of 
  my 
  bird 
  family 
  is 
  so 
  erratic 
  in 
  his 
  

   coming 
  and 
  going 
  as 
  the 
  flicker. 
  Only 
  this 
  morning 
  I 
  heard 
  

   his 
  loud 
  scream 
  from 
  a 
  half 
  dead 
  tree 
  at 
  the 
  back 
  fence. 
  A 
  

   downy 
  woodpecker 
  has 
  been 
  busy 
  all 
  morning 
  excavating 
  a 
  

   nesting 
  place 
  in 
  one 
  of 
  its 
  branches, 
  and 
  I 
  presume 
  the 
  flicker 
  

   came 
  to 
  drive 
  him 
  away 
  just 
  for 
  the 
  amusement 
  of 
  it; 
  and 
  

  

  