reel ol br OPNT Bae. le HEY DN 15 
Some Dunes Reminiscences 
By LILLIAN CRAMP 
ALL WINTER we had birds at our feeding shelf. The colorful blue jays, 
who brought all their friends, and the cardinals, five or six at a time. 
There were always downy and hairy woodpeckers, and some winters, 
depending upon the acorn crop, red-headed woodpeckers. One year we had 
a red-bellied woodpecker, but he was a rare visitor. A pair of nuthatches 
were regular and quarrelsome boarders. Chickadees and tufted tits were 
our favorites because they were such friendly little things. Juncos stayed 
all winter, though they were often so frozen that they could not stand on 
their feet but they soon thawed out after a breakfast of millet seed, and 
fought like little imps among themselves. The tree sparrows seldom came 
to the shelf. They preferred weed seeds. They sang and twittered, as 
happy and sweet natured as the juncos were unpleasant. A covey of quail 
came every morning, single file up the path. They sat down and ate 
steadily, as chickens do, to the consternation of the jays. 
We saw other winter visitors such as pine siskins and redpclls. Some 
winters a flock of Bohemian waxwings was in the orchard. Often a small 
flock of cedar waxwing'ss stayed through the winter. There was an Arctic 
three-toed woodpecker along the woods trail. He made as much noise as a 
man with an axe! He was another rare visitor. 
We always felt better acquainted with our winter birds but we looked 
forward to the coming of the spring birds with longing. The first bluebird, 
the first meadowlark were events. The second day of March was our date 
for the first meadowlark. We expected to hear his loud song when we got 
off the South Shore train at Baileytown on that date, and we usually did. 
In the days before the new highways were built and before the swamps 
were drained and burned, there were interesting birds to be seen from the 
train windows all the way from Miller. There were coots walking jerkily 
among the reeds or swimming equally jerkily in the shallow water. Grebes, 
or helldivers as we called them, disappeared under the water as our train 
rattled by. Flocks of red-winged blackbirds swung on the cattails, showing 
their scarlet epaulets, singing ‘‘o-ka-lee-ah.”’” There was always a kingfisher 
hanging expectantly over the water, and always a few black terns. 
From the train to Oak Hill Lane we walked the track and watched 
for birds. Besides meadowlarks, we were likely to hear the soft ‘‘dearie” 
of bluebirds and see a flash of heavenly blue. There were chipping sparrows, 
vesper sparrows, house wrens, purple martins and to our dismay, in later 
years, starlings! At the entrance to Oak Hill Lane, which was high 
meadow ground, there would be field sparrows and indigo buntings and, 
farther along, dickcissels and song sparrows. We often heard the insect 
buzz of the short-billed marsh wren and stood still to search him out on 
the top of a weed. At the swampy end of the Lane we were sure to hear 
the long-billed marsh wren and, if we were quick enough, we might see 
him drop down into the cattails. A sora rail was one of our favorites and 
we listened from afar for his odd laughing note. The American bittern 
liked this swampy corner too. Sometimes he kept perfectly still looking as 
