Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1878-01-30
Bird Life.

Bird Life.
BY fiction of the poets birds all sing |
praise, if they sing at all, to the grea,
Creator. OF course, this sounds well, and |
may laye some moral foundation; but | |
can come as near proving thrt Il calbird |
curses and swears and filings out all sorts
of abusive epilhets at its enemies, VIII
angry, as any one can come to establish |
ipg the song praise theory How these
little fellows can fret and seold and hiss |
and imprecate-yes, imprecate! Let
sparrow hawk, or screcch-owl, or butcher
bird, 90 near ones nest. and, if you OBJ |
serve closely, your imagination must be
very torpid, indeed, if you cannot hear
" StcreJleu!" and all that, scattered
around pretty freely. l have seen one
fairly dance in an ecstacy of anger when
nothing but poor, little brown lizard
came near it.
The season of love making is the season
Of song, and likewise the season of battles.
among the birds. About the time that
the males begin to strut and look about
them for wives. rumors of strife and hints
OF war begin to pcrvade the sweet air and
sunshine of spring. The males fight for
possession of the comely females, and in
turn the females struggle and boldly bat
tie for queenshp of the gayy feathered
males. Then the woods are stirred with
song and shaken with combat. The rus
tie of wings is continuous, and the cries
of triumph, and the shricks of defeat, are
blended together into what the pous have
named anthems Of praise Here sits Il
yelow-throated warbler, rocking on Il
green spray of young leaves, gurglng II
very rapture of music in his tiny mouth,
and in answer to his sweetly erotic song Il
suber-tinted mate comes to rock by his
side. Like flash of flame, another male
strikes him. and the two roll over aud
over in the air, fighting desperately. The
female joins the victor, and away they 90
on their love-joulney through the cool
green groves. Another female comes
along, likes the looks of Mr.. Yellow. throat,
and forthwith attacks. If victorious, she
joins wings with her lord, and floats away
down current of bloom scented mir, TO
tind u good place for nest. So with all
the wild, gay singers of the woods. rhci
days of glory are their days of battle.
Like earnest knights of fairy land. trickcd
in shining armor and richly-tinted plumes,
these little adventurers of the groves
charge down upon the dusky aiscs and
across the bright glades to cross lances
with all comers OF whatever proves or
renOwn. You hear Il sharp cry and Il lit
tie crash, as Of suddenly -crumpled velvet,
when the tiny combaantS collide in the
lists, and after the fight is over, a'bril-
liant feather, slowly falling through the
soft air, is left as n souvenir of the mo,
mputous conflict Two male orioles fight
ing in mid-air is Il pretty sight. Think of
animated flakes of flame rs DR.. Holmes
names them, whirllng over and over, and
round and round, now rus ing together
with a flash and hiss, now flying apart
to seek II better advantage, and anon be-
ginning II sparrlng process, with wing and
beak, so rapid and involved that no hu-
man eye can follow the mauGuvers
Sharp, quick, swapping sounds of crossing
quills and closing mandibes tell of sincere
work going on in that revolving mist o
jet and gold
The conclusion have reached Is, thai
bird-life, so far from being that happy
song-glorlied, praiseIul existence so eX
tolled by poets, sacred and proEne, is one
scene of restless Struggle and strife. hun
ger and dread and fear and pain. Bese
on all sides by deadly foes, continually
= pressed by hunger, all the time under th'
| influence of some controlling passion
/ roaming continually by day, and hoverin4
= in dark dread by night, how can they b
5 happy? Look closely at the eyes of th
canary or mocking- bird while it is sing
S ing in the cage. Is the expression hap
| by one? You see Il sad, worried, longin!
e CLEAN that has no joy at its root. just S
l with the wild ones. Their eyes betra
q the soulless shallowness of their so.calle
songs. Do not dispute this until you hav
+ investigated for yourself, and then yo
f will not. Go lie in the shadow of a hedg
$ bordering wheat or oats plat in earl
= summer, and wait till II meadow-lark or
4 lield-sparrow perches near you, then wit
/ IL good opera glass sean him while h
l., sings. Once yon have caught the EXPIRE,
+ sion of his eyes, his song never again wi
? sound the same. Ever afterward you wi
l. hear in it nothing but meaningless, inal
b ticulate, rasping, or, ut best, II liquid meC
/ lev of involuntary notes. Put yourself
the orioles place. 1t is May. The leave
are coming out on the naples, and tn
tassels adorn the oaks. 1t is early morl
}. ing of IL cloudless day. You spread you
ID bright wings, and start in search of brea
It fast From twig to twig, from spray
le spray, you fit, finding here little larv
Il l,it Of II nppDnh
., keep you hungry. A blue jay attacks yC
,. and dabS you, "a houSe-cat makes lun:
ID at you us you fly past u garden-wall,
Id boy throws stone at you. Frightent
almost to death, you seek the depths of
thick grove, where Il gOshawk tries
70 catch you, and, escaping from it, "
le come near flying right into the claws of
to bIue-tailed darter! And SO all day y
IN fit from place to place, all the time
n deadly fear, till night comes and hangs
be shadows in the woods. Then from du
Is, to dawn you sit on II bough, and hear
We owls hoot, and the foxes patter about, a
the racoons Chamber among the neighbt
ing treo-tops, What day of watchf
nd ness and terror-what Il night of aw
on fear! Day comes again, and with it hl
lg- ger and strife and danger and consequ
or restlessness. Who would be an oriC
er- with its three or four years of troub
.ge Let its nest swing in the sunshsno of Nj
lib with the bird on its rim like a fame
in would rather be II lonely, naked, weap
the less man in the savagest forest of Aft
he than to be that bird. Maurice Ibonepi
in Appletoa'S Joarn1lt for February.