The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-05-05
IDyLs OF THE T FIELDS.
BY A NATURALIST AT LARGE.

threes, constant procession of birds.
There were song sparrows and white
capped warblerS, wrens, house sparrows
and the pretty, yellow summer warblers,
goldtnches, and single beautiful GRIM
son tanager, who stayed for long time,
fitting from branch to branch. A black
headed grosbeak stopped for moment and
passed musical time of day, on his way
up the hill to dine in my neighbours pine
trees.
All the morning pair of demure little
house wrens had been fitting back and
forth between the tree and patch OF tall
yellow thistles that grew beside the stream.
They were evidently lining their nests with
the soft white down of the thistle seeds.
and out before me | could not find their
nest for long time. At last l discovered
it. Far up in the tree was limb that at
some time or other had received terrible
wound. Some sharp weapon had pene-
trated to the very heart of the wood, cut
ting deep, wide cash. In time the pro-
cess of healing curled the new bark in q
smooth ring all around the wound, making
a dreadful scar. In the hollow thus formed
the wrens were building, the kindly tree
affOrding them in the depth of its wounded
heart safe shelter.
Two birds that gladly welcomed to my
bush were bluebirds. These are rather
rare birds hereabouts, but they are sweet
singers. and well worth cultivating. Like
their Eastern cousins, they are quick to
take advantage of bird boxes, and if these
are put out for them they can readily be
coaxed to build in them.
A whole bevy of black-capped warblers
flew in upon me at one time, and settled
down, in no way disconnected by my pres
ence. Once there was a great twltter and
commotion outside, aud fully a score of
hIr6c Hnd fnr chnlt 70 fhn rio lU fro
Looking upward | spied a sparrow hawk
flying high above us. He got no game in
that quarter, though, and soon faded away
to mere speck in the high air.
| remained under my bush from early in
the forenoon until long past luncheon
time, and could not begin to keep count of
the birds | saw there. | learned long be-
fore | left that bird in the bush is worth
many in the hand.
There were one or two visitors that |
failed to recognize, and this fact really de-
tracted from my pleasure. 1t is a delight
to know the name even of passing bird
to hail him by it. And the birds are so
well worth knowing. There is something
in the human soul that nothing but the
sight or thought of bird can touch. That
little feathered bunch with the ruby throat
is hardly bigger than my thumb, but he
is far more intensely alive than | am. His
blood is warmer. His heart beats faster
and his respiration is quicker. He has
emotions and sensations of which know
nothing-that l can never know.
And he can fly.
We ought to have our Bird day in Cali
fornia, as we have Arbor day. We cannot
have too many days in which we go and
visit Mother Nature. Our children should
be taught to know and name and love the
birds. They will be happier, freer, less
sordid and world-serving generation for
the knowledge. 1t would do US all good to
know that not always does the value of a
mans life consist in the abundance of
things which he hath that bird in the
hand is not worth two in the bush.