THE TWO ACORNS
DR. CHARLES MACKAY
In ancient time, two acorns, in their cups,
Shaken by winds and ripeness from the tree,
Dropped side by side into the ferns and grass;
"Where have I fallen – to what base region come?"
Exclaimed the one. "The joyous breeze no more
Rocks me to slumber on the sheltering bough;
The sunlight streams no longer on my face;
I look no more from altitudes serene
Upon the world reposing far below —
Its plains, its hills, its rivers, and its woods.
To me the nightingale sings hymns no more;
But I am made companion of the worm,
And rot on the chill earth. Around me grow
Nothing but useless weeds, and grass, and fern,
Unfit to hold companionship with me.
Ah, me! most wretched! rain and frost and dew
And all the pangs and penalties of earth
Corrupt me where I lie – degenerate."
And thus the acorn made its daily moan.
The other raised no murmur of complaint
And looked with no contempt upon the grass
Nor called the branching fern a worthless weed
Nor scorned the woodland flowers that round it blew.
All silently and piously it lay
Upon the kindly bosom of the earth.
It blessed the warmth with which the noonday sun
Made fruitful all the ground; it loved the dews,
The moonlight and the snow, the frost and rain
And all the change of seasons as they passed.
It sank into the bosom of the soil.
The bursting life, enclosed within its husk,
Broke through its fetters; it extended roots
And twined them freely in the grateful ground;
It sprouted up and looked upon the light;
The sunshine fed it; the embracing air
Endowed it with vitality and strength;
The rains of heaven supplied it nourishment.
And so from month to month, and year to year,
It grew in beauty and in usefulness,
Until its large circumference enclosed
Shelter for flocks and herds; until its boughs
Afforded homes for happy multitudes —
The dormouse and the chaffinch and the jay
And countless myriads of minuter life;
Until its bole, too vast for the embrace
Of human arms, stood, in the forest depths,
The model and glory of the wood.
Its sister acorn perished in its pride.
A DEFENSE OF SOME BIRDS
ABBIE C. STRONG
To the Editor of Birds and All Nature:
IN THE October number of Birds and All Nature was an article containing a list of the enemies of song birds and ordering their banishment, if one would enjoy the presence of the little songsters. Included in the list were the blue jays. There was also an article entitled, "A new Champion for the English Sparrow."
I always rejoice when someone comes forward in defense of the despised class, finding them not wholly faulty. The same hand created all, and surely each must be of some use. I feel like saying something in favor of the blue jay. I am sure that all will acknowledge that the jay has a handsome form and rare and beautiful plumage, which at least makes him "a thing of beauty;" he may not be "a joy forever," but surely a delight to the eye. Formerly my home was in northern Iowa, living many years in one place in a town of about 6,000 inhabitants. Our lawn was spacious for a town, filled with shrubbery and trees, both evergreen and deciduous. We did not encourage cats, usually keeping dishes of water here and there for the accommodation of the birds, and other attractions which they seemed to appreciate, as numerous migratory birds came each season, taking up their abode with us, to their evident enjoyment and giving us much pleasure. The jays were always with us, were petted and as they became friendly and tame, naturally we were much attached to them. The limb of a tree growing very close to a back veranda had been sawed off and a board nailed on the top forming a table, where we daily laid crumbs and a number of jays as regularly came after them. They were fond of meat and almost anything from the table. I found the jay to be a provident bird; after satisfying his appetite he safely buried the remainder of his food. I often noticed them concealing acorns and other nuts in hollow places in the trees, and noticed also that they were left till a stormy day which prevented them from finding food elsewhere as usual. I saw one bury a bit of meat under leaves near a dead flower twig; there came a rather deep fall of snow that night, but the bird managed to find it the next day with little difficulty and flew off with a cry of delight. The jay nested on the grounds, but that did not seem to prevent other birds from coming in great numbers and variety and making their little homes there also. I recall one year which was but a repetition of most of the years. The jays had a nest in a crab apple tree, a cat bird nested in a vine close to the house, a robin came familiarly to one of the veranda pillars in front of the house and built her solid nest of mud and grass. A brown thrush took a dense spruce for her nesting-place. A blackbird, to my surprise, built a nest in a fir tree. A grosbeak built a nest on a swaying branch of a willow at the back of the lot, and a bluebird occupied a little house we had put in a walnut tree for her convenience.
The orioles were always in evidence, usually making their appearance in early May when the fruit trees were in bloom; first seen busily looking the trees over for insects. Generally they selected an outreaching branch of a cottonwood tree, often near where they could be watched from a veranda, building their graceful nests and caring for their little ones. The chattering little wrens never questioned our friendliness, but always built loose little nests quite within our reach, either in a box we provided for them or over the door; at the same time others had their little homes in cozy places in the barn, or in the loose bark of an old tree. Each bird attended to its own affairs without perceptible molestation from others, as a rule. It was evident, however, that the jays were not tolerated in company with other birds to any great extent, and I fancy they had a rather bad reputation, for I noticed the birds took a defensive position often when a jay made its appearance near their homes without any apparent evil intent, that I could discover. I would sometimes see as many as five varieties of birds after one jay; they were always victors, too. The robin, I always observed, could defend himself against a jay, never seemed afraid to do so, and indeed seemed to be the aggressor. The blue jay may be a sly bird, a "robber and a thief," though I never detected those traits to any especial extent; but he is handsome and brightens the winter landscape. To be sure, I found that he was fond of green peas and corn and did not hesitate in helping himself, also sampling the bright Duchess apples. The robin is equally fond of all small fruits, and greedy as well.
The bluebirds came regularly in the early spring for years, then ceased apparently when the sparrows made their appearance. The sparrows made many attempts to usurp the little house provided especially for the bluebird, but were not allowed to do so and never gained a footing on the premises; still the little spring harbinger ever after kept aloof from us. In the winter season the English sparrow came occasionally to share the bluejays' tidbits, but was promptly repulsed, although other birds came freely. The dainty little snowbird, several kinds of woodpeckers, now and then a chickadee, and some other winter birds came also. I had ways of enticing the birds to come near where I could watch their habits and peculiarities. All birds fear cats. There are cats and cats – some never molest birds or little chickens, but, as a rule, they seem to be their natural enemies. Little boys, I am sorry to say, cause great destruction of birds, often thoughtlessly, by trying their marksmanship. I would banish every "sling shot!" It is even worse than taking eggs, for they are generally replaced; but when the mother-bird is taken a little brood is left helpless to suffer and die. Thoughtful kindness towards little birds should be encouraged among children. I would have one day each year devoted to the subject in all public schools. It would bring birds under the observation of many who otherwise would pass them by unnoticed, and when one takes an interest in anything, be it flowers or birds, he or she is less likely to cause their destruction.
MARCH AND MAY
"The brown, brown woods of March
Are the green, green woods of May,
And they lift their arms with a freer swing
And shake out their pennons gay.
And the brown, dead world of March
Is the living world of to-day;
Life throbs and flushes and flashes out
In the color and fragrance of May."
BONAPARTE'S GULL
(Larus Philadelphia.)
LYNDS JONES
THE whole of North America is the home of this pretty little gull – from the Bermudas to Labrador on the east, California to the Yukon on the west, and from the Gulf of Mexico at least to the Arctic circle. This species is often common near streams and other bodies of water large enough to furnish their food of fish. I have often seen flocks of twenty or more birds passing over central Iowa during the vernal migrations, sometimes even stooping to snatch some toothsome grub from the freshly turned furrow, but oftener sweeping past within easy range in that lithe, graceful flight so characteristic of this small gull. To the farm boy, shut in away from any body of water larger than an ice pond, where no ocean birds could ever be expected to wander, the appearance of this bird, bearing the wild freedom of the ocean in his every movement, is truly a revelation. It sends the blood coursing hotly through his veins until the impulse to get away into the broader activities of life cannot be put down. I know not why it is, but some birds, seen for the first time, seem to waft the perfume of an unknown country to us, well-nigh irresistibly calling us away upon a new field of exploration or endeavor.
The flight of Bonaparte's gull is worthy of careful study. In common with the other members of the group of gulls, he progresses easily by continuous leisurely wing beats, each stroke of the wings seeming to throw the light body slightly upward as though it were not more than a feather's weight. In the leisurely flight the watchful eye is turned hither and thither in quest of some food morsel, which may be some luckless fish venturing too near the surface of the water, or possibly floating refuse. The flight is sometimes so suddenly arrested that the body of the bird seems to be thrown backward before the plunge is made, thus giving the impression of a graceful litheness which is not seen in the larger birds of this group.
It is only in the breeding-plumage that this species wears the slaty plumbeous hood. In the winter the hood is wanting, though it may be suggested by a few dark spots, but there is a dusky spot over the ears always. It seems doubtful if the birds attain the dark hood until the second or third year, at which time they may be said to be fully adult.
It was formerly supposed that this gull nested entirely north of the United States, but later investigations have shown that it nests regularly in northern Minnesota and even as far south as the Saint Clair Flats near Detroit, Mich. It may then be said to nest from the northern United States northward to the limit of its range. It is rare along the Alaskan coast of Bering Sea, and there seems to be no record of it along the coast of the Arctic Ocean.
The nest is always placed in elevated situations, in bushes, trees, or on high stumps, and is composed of sticks, grasses, and lined with softer vegetable material. The eggs are three or four in number and have the grayish-brown to greenish-brown color, spotted and blotched with browns, which is characteristic of the gulls as a group.
While the gulls are fish-eaters and almost constantly hover above the fishers' nets, often catching over again the fish which the nets have trapped, we never hear of any warfare waged against them by the fishermen. On the contrary, the gulls are always on the most friendly terms with them, gladly accepting the fish found unworthy of the market. But let a bird of whatever kind visit the orchard or chicken-yard, for whatever purpose, and his life is not worth a moment's consideration. We need again to sit at the feet of fishermen as earnest inquirers.
EGG COLLECTING
FRED MAY,
School Taxidermist
To the Editor of Birds and All Nature:
I AM glad the magazine of birds is furnishing its readers so many points about the good qualities of our birds. And as they are being protected more every year by the state laws and by the lovers of birds, I think they are sure to increase. I have often been asked about the decrease in bird life. The blame is generally put on the taxidermist, collector, sportsman, and schoolboy, which I claim is all wrong. The taxidermist collector of to-day is a lover of bird-life, and only hunts specimens to mount for a scientific purpose. This gives our school children a better chance to study them. The schoolboy and girl of to-day are doing great good in the protection of bird-life, and your book of birds has a warm friend among them. The true sportsman always lives up to the laws and takes a fair chance with dog and gun. The plume and bird collector will soon be a thing of the past, as hats trimmed with choice ribbons and jets are fast taking the place of those covered with feathers and birds. Now the persons who hide behind all these, and who destroy more bird-life in a single season than all the hunters and collectors of skins, are never brought to the eyes of the press. These are the people who have a fad for egg-collecting. They not only rob the nest of its one setting, but will take the eggs as long as the bird will continue to lay, and, not satisfied with that, will take the eggs from every bird as long as they can find them. They will even take the eggs after incubation has begun, and often-times, after a hard climb for the eggs, will destroy the nest. There are thousands upon thousands of settings of eggs of every kind taken every year by these fad egg collectors and you will see in some of our magazines on ornithology offers of from fifty to five hundred settings for sale. Now, what is an egg to this egg collector? Nothing. But to the lover of birds there is a great deal in that shell. There is a life; the song of the woods and of the home. In that shell is the true and faithful worker who has saved our farmers and our city homes and parks from the plagues of insects that would have destroyed crops and the beauty of our homes. Shall the law allow these nest-robbers to go on summer after summer taking hundreds of thousands of settings? If it shall I am afraid the increase in our bird-life will be slow. With the help of our game wardens and sporting-clubs a great deal of this could be stopped, and a great saving could be made in game birds' eggs. Our country school children can protect our song birds' nests by driving these collectors, with their climbing irons and collecting cans, from their farms in the breeding-season. Yes, it often looks sad to see a song bird drop at the report of the gun of the skin collector. But when we think of the bird-egg collector sneaking like a thief in the night up a tree or through a hedge, taking a setting of eggs on every side while the frightened mother sits high in the tree above, and then down and off in search of more, only to come back in a short time to take her eggs again – what is bird-life to him? What would he care to be sitting in the shade by the lake or stream listening to the song of the robin, or after a hard day's work in the hot summer, be seated on his porch to hear the evening song of the warbler and the distant call of the whippoorwill? Let the lovers of bird-life commence with the spring song, with the building of the nest, and save each little life they can from the egg collector. Will this man, if he may be called a man, look into his long drawers filled with eggs, and his extra settings for sale and trade? Let him think of the life he has taken, the homes he has made unhappy. I should think he would go like Macbeth from his sleep to wash the blood from his hands.