Willmar tribune., 1908-03-25

~ Copyright. by J
Bird Life
on the Farm
"A dock of merry singing-birds were
sporting in the grove,
Some were talking nonsense, and some
were making love-
Among all the chapters which the
outdoors unfolded to US in our life on
the farm, none was more a delight
than studying and noting the ways of
the birds. The trees about us, the
nearness of the orchard and the past
ures and hedges made their nesting
places naturally close to the house,
and from the first touch of spring until
the chill winds drove most Of them
southwark, they mated, builded, nest
ed and brought forth their broods, and
made q busy and unique feature of the
panorama which nature unfolded from
day to day.
There were many kinds of birds that
came to the farm, and each in it's own
way sang and fitted about the orchard
or the naples, each built and brought
out its nestlings, and all contributed
to the light and color of the days of
the passing seasons.
First to lend a CLINT and sound a
note in the fresh March gales was the
blue-bird. Perched on some stake or
fence-post he quavered a bar of sadly
sweet music and was away over bare
fields the sun cleaning on his azure
flight. Where the bluebirds nested
we never found, but they were with u
until late in the fall.
The robins nested early, one pair
In a soft maple in the front yard, and
another couple in a low-spreading mp
pie tree next to a blackberry thicket.
Day after day we watched the parent
birds build, and finally their strongly
constructed domicile was complete
and the mother bird began to lay her
eggs. When this task was completed
she could te found seated on the nest,
her eyes scanning eagerly the outlook
beyond, ready at an instant's notice
to spring from the nest and loiter
about near by, sounding querulous
notes IF anxiety as we went nearer
to the nest. Presently the smooth,
light blue eggs were broken and four
gaping bills appeared over the edges
of the orchard nest, and then both the
male and female birds began a busy
and constant hunt for worms and
food for the infant robins.
Before very long these fiedglings
managed to reach the edges of the
nest and balance themselves doubtful
ly, thereafter taking short flights to
surrc unding branches. A little later,
and they had mastered the art of aeri-
al navigation, and the nest was desert
ed, the young birds appearing in the
cherry trees and dividing plunder with
the various woodpeckers who haunted
that particular spot.
In one corner of the pasture, close
to the line of wire fence that flanked
the country road, we noticed one day
a wee brown bird fly up, the common
field sparrow, or ground sparrow as
they are sometimes called. We went
over to a tuft of grass from where this
bird had flown and there found it's
nest, tucked away carefully in the grass
and with one egg in it, grey with red
splotches. In week there were three
more eggs in this nest, and the moth
er bird sat faithfully on the nest, only
leaving it when an intruder came too
close to her habitation. She would
slip out CT the grass with a darting
flight, and perch on the fence or the
spray of a shrub that stood in the
fence corner, waiting until the dis
turber walked on. Then she would fly
back and faithfully enter in upon her
lowly vigils again. We did not dis
turb this quaint little matron after
we knew she settled down to raising
her family, and one day, long after our
first discovery of her retreat, the nest
was empty, and, apparently her family
safely launched into bird society.
Most birds complain when their
nests are approached, either in nest
ing or brood-time, voicing their terror
or anger in various ways. But this
modest little sparrow, sliding from her
nest on the near advance of wandering
footsteps, glided from her nest and
watched anxiously for the going away
of her enemies without so much as a
sound.
In thick clump of lilac bushes at
the side of the garden fence, a pair
of catbirds had built their nest, with
a deep foundation of twigs and bark,
a strong and symmetrical habitation.
and in it at first were four greenish-
blue eggs, smooth and shining. For a
long time the catbirds were in the
habit of swinging to branch of low
maple that had withered and died
close by and serenading US at even
ing. Nearby was also a windfall of
grapevines over the stump of an oak.
and here they were in the habit of
diving and disappearing, and for a
time we thought they were building
among the grape-vines. Their new
ing and querulous note Of complaint
came often from these vines, but al
though we searched among them there
was no sign that the birds were build
ing there.
But one day as Cecile was looking
for a lilac bloom high up in the bush,
she saw the bright eyes of the mother
bird looking out at her intently from
the very thickest portion of the cover.
She called mo and tOpothor uo uo+c1,