May ii, 1907-] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
733 
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May and June are the nesting months. Some 
impatient bluebirds and robins begin in April, 
and the lonely owls and larger hawks breed even 
in February and March, while, on the other hand, 
the goldfinches and cedar waxwings wait until 
July; and other birds, who raise several broods 
in a season, like the robins, sparrows, swallows 
and wrens, continue laying through July and 
straggle into August, but the universal song and 
nesting belong to May and June. 
In early May the singing is wildly spontaneous, 
the birds are ungarded in their movements and 
constantly show themselves; but when they have 
mated, a sense of responsibility comes over the 
gay minstrels, and they become more wary. The 
soberly clad wife cautions secrecy; there is so 
much to discuss that must be whispered only in 
the echoless depth of the branches, for the great 
question of the season, the location of the nest, 
[is to be settled, and quickly, too. 
There are many things that the bird couple 
have to consider; the home must be within con¬ 
venient distance of the proper food supply; there 
nust be some protection from sun and rain, even 
if it is only a few leaves or a tuft of grass; and 
• then loom up the enemies to be avoided—birds of 
prey, squirrels, snakes and man. Of the four, 
-he birds seem to dread man the least, and are 
.'onstantly appealing to him, and taking him into 
heir confidence as a protector against the others. 
Poor little birds ! They do not realize that man, 
with all his higher intelligence, is really the most 
•elentless of all. The other enemies kill for food 
pnly, man kills for food casually, for decorative 
weathers wantonly, and for scientific researches 
; plausibly, with the apology that the end and aim 
s knovvledge. Are not the lives of hundreds of 
mng birds a high price for the gain of a doubt- 
mi new species, which only causes endless dis¬ 
cussion as to whether it really is a species or 
nerely a freak? One ornithologist proudly 
[makes the record that, in the space of less than 
three weeks, he shot fifty-eight rose-breasted 
grosbeaks, to ascertain their average article of 
iiet, and this slaughter was in the breeding sea- 
j ’Oil. There is also the stubbornly ignorant far- 
j ner, who measures only by dollars and cents, and 
pets his hand against all birds, because half a 
lozen kinds in the excess of their friendliness 
nvite themselves to supper in his berry patch, 
ind think that no perch is so suitable for their 
morning singing as a cherry tree in June. 
Now is. the time to study all the best attributes 
'f bird life, the period when we may judge the 
oirds by our own standard, finding that their 
ode of manners and morality nearly meets our 
i >wn. We see them as individuals having the 
f art ? e diversity of character as people of different 
i lations, and it is in the homes that we can best 
| e ? ^eir ruling instincts. Each bird now has a 
I mnd of his own and develops his own ideas. 
; ie is master of many arts. 
If you wish to see all this, habit yourself in 
ober colors, wear soft, well-tried shoes, and some- 
aing on your head that shall conceal rather than 
| ^tjjay your presence. Mrs. Olive Thorne Miller’s 
; iaf-covered hat is a clever invention. Do you 
1 eahze how large your eyes appear to the bird, 
• nose eyes have very many times the magnifying 
ower of our own? Walk gently but naturally, 
0 not step on dry branches, but at the same time 
void a mincing gait. Have you not noticed in 
ne sick room that a light, easy tread is far less 
istracting than a fussy tiptoeing. A writer has 
11a that birds are much more afraid of man’s 
rms than of man himself. 
w throiigh the lanes where the bushes hedge 
i trees arch, thread between the clumps 
r he seventh edition of Mrs. Wright’s “Bird- 
! f ew " York'* , ^ n ^*’ the Macmillan Company, 
of crabs and briars that dot waste prairies, watch 
every tree and vine in the garden, skirt the hay 
meadows (their owners will hardly let you tramp 
through them), for there will be bobolinks in 
the timothy. Best of all, swing a hammock in 
the old orchard, and, lying in it, if you will, see 
and hear so much that, wondering greatly, you 
will agree with Burroughs when he says, “I only 
know that birds have a language which is very 
expressive and which is easily translatable into 
the human tongue.” 
After watching the skill that builds the nest 
it is difficult to overestimate the individual beauty 
of some of the structures. Comparatively few, 
outside of the charmed circle, know the diversity 
of form and materials shown in nest building, 
and the wonderful adaptability of both, by the 
bird, to its special needs. 
1 he length of time which a nest remains in 
use varies with different birds. Burroughs says 
in the chapter on Birds’ Nests, in his perennial 
“Wake Robin,” “The birds may be divided, with 
respect to this and kindred points, into five gen¬ 
eral classes: First, those that repair or appro¬ 
priate the last year’s nest, as the wren, swallow, 
bluebird, great-crested flycatcher, owls, eagles, 
fish hawks and a few others. Secondly, those 
that build anew each season, though frequently 
rearing more than one brood in the same nest. 
Of these the phoebe bird is a well known example. 
1 hirdly, those that build a new nest for each 
brood, which includes the greatest number of 
species. Fourthly, a limited number that makes 
no nest of their own, but appropriate the aban¬ 
doned nests of other birds. Finally, those which 
use no nest at all, but deposit their eggs on the 
sand, which is the case with a large number of 
aquatic fowls.” 
Birds’ nests are often regarded as merely ag¬ 
gregations of sticks and straAs twisted together 
more or less carelessly; on the whole, rather 
monotonous, dirty affairs. I know an observant 
farmer who understands all the weather signs 
and a great deal of woodcraft, and spends his 
year in the pasture, field, brush lot and woodsj 
but whose ideas of birds’ nests are purely con¬ 
ventional. He does not call any structure a 
nest, unless it follows the pattern of a robin’s 
or sparrow s. I asked him one day if there were 
many ^ kinds of nests in his neighborhood. 
"W ell,” he said, leaning on his ax (for it was 
the wood chopping season), and giving a remi¬ 
niscent gaze through the brush, “there’s plenty 
o birds, but, bless yer, not half on ’em makes 
any reg’lar sort o’ nests. Sparrers and robins 
does, an’ catbirds an’ crows; but swallers on’y 
make mud pies, an’ hum’birds jest set down right 
wherever they see a round o’ moss on a branch, 
and the warmth o’ them makes the moss grow 
up a bit, but I don’t call that a nest. The hang- 
bird (oriole) he strings up a bag in a tree, an’ 
them red-eyed warblers (vireos) hooks a mess o’ 
scraps in a twig fork, but those ain’t real nests; 
an’ tree-mice (nuthatches) don’t have none at 
all, jest stuff a few feathers in a hole, I seen 
one to-day;” and after turning over his words 
he produced an upright branch containing the 
feather-lined bed of the white-breasted nuthatch. 
Spend a month on the bird quest, or a week 
even, and your eyes will be opened to the pos¬ 
sibilities, and you will become alive to the fact 
that the feathered race has its artisans, the same 
as the human brotherhood. Weavers whose 
looms antedate all man’s inventions, masons, 
carpenters, frescoers, decorators and upholsterers, 
its skilled mechanics and shiftless unskilled labor¬ 
ers, and its parasitic tramps, who house their 
young at the expense of others. As for varied 
materials—hay, sticks, feathers, hair, moss, bark, 
fur, hog-bristle, dandelion-down, mud, catkins, 
The Building of the Nest.* 
NORTHERN SHRIKE. 
Length, 9 - 10.50 inches. 
Copyright, 1907, by the Macmillan Company. 
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