A Watcher in the Woods

Part 1

Transcriber's note:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (italics).

Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.

Variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained except in obvious cases of typographical error.

A WATCHER IN THE WOODS

BY DALLAS LORE SHARP

Author of "Wild Life Near Home"

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY BRUCE HORSFALL

NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO.

Copyright, 1901, by THE CENTURY CO.

Published November, 1903

3101

PRINTED IN U. S. A.

TO THE TWO LITTLE WATCHERS AT HOME

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

Leading superintendents of schools and teachers have been pointing out that in "Wild Life Near Home," by Dallas Lore Sharp, there is much valuable supplementary reading for schools, and no less an authority than Mr. John Burroughs, in his recent article in the "Atlantic Monthly" entitled "Real and Sham Natural History," made the statement that "of all the nature books of recent years, I look upon Mr. Sharp's as the best."

The present volume will be found to contain carefully selected chapters from "Wild Life," arranged with special reference to nature study in the schools, where it is hoped that it will become popular with both teachers and pupils.

October 15, 1903

CONTENTS

PAGE

BIRDS' WINTER BEDS 1

SOME SNUG WINTER BEDS 17

"MUS'RATTIN'" 35

FEATHERED NEIGHBORS 51

FROM RIVER-OOZE TO TREE-TOP 109

RABBIT ROADS 135

SECOND CROPS 161

IN THE OCTOBER MOON 191

Part 2

ILLUSTRAIONS

PAGE

The feast is finished and the games are on Frontispiece

The cheerful little goldfinches, that bend the dried ragweeds 7

There she stood in the snow with head high, listening anxiously And--dreamed 16

I shivered as the icy flakes fell thicker and faster 22

The meadow-mouse 25

It was Whitefoot 30

From his leafless height he looks down into the Hollow 33

Uncle Jethro limbered his stiffened knees and went chuckling down the bank 36

The big moon was rising over the meadows 39

Section of muskrat’s house 40

The snow has drifted over their house till only a tiny mound appears 43

They rubbed noses 45

Two little brown creatures washing calamus. 46

They probe the lawns most diligently for worms 57

Even he loves a listener 58

She flew across the pasture 61

A very ordinary New England "corner" 64

They are the first to return in the spring 67

Where the dams are hawking for flies 70

They cut across the rainbow 75

The barn-swallows fetch the summer 77

From the barn to the orchard 78

Across the road, in an apple-tree, built a pair of redstarts 80

Gathered half the gray hairs of a dandelion into her beak 83

In the tree next to the chebec's was a brood of robins. The crude nest was wedged carelessly into the lowest fork of the tree, so that the cats and roving boys could help themselves without trouble 85

I soon spied him on the wires of a telegraph-pole 88

Part 3

He will come if May comes 91

Within a few feet of me dropped the lonely frightened quail 92

On they go to a fence-stake 94

It was a love-song 96

But the pair kept on together, chatting brightly 101

In a dead yellow birch 103

So close I can look directly into it 104

"Spring! spring! spring!" 114

A wretched little puddle 117

Calamity is hot on his track 140

Bunny, meantime, is watching just inside the next brier-patch 143

The squat is a cold place 145

The limp, lifeless one hanging over the neck of that fox 148

His drop is swift and certain 153

Seven young ones in the nest 159

I knew it suited exactly 166

With tail up, head cocked, very much amazed, and commenting vociferously 168

In a solemn row upon the wire fence 171

Young flying-squirrels 172

The sentinel crows are posted 174

She turned and fixed her big black eyes hard on me 179

Wrapped up like little Eskimos 180

It is no longer a sorry forest of battered, sunken stumps 183

Even the finger-board is a living pillar of ivy 186

In October they are building their winter lodges 199

The glimpse of Reynard in the moonlight 202

BIRDS' WINTER BEDS [Illustration: snowy]

BIRDS' WINTER BEDS

Part 4

The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold.

A storm had been raging from the northeast all day. Toward evening the wind strengthened to a gale, and the fine, icy snow swirled and drifted over the frozen fields.

I lay a long time listening to the wild symphony of the winds, thankful for the roof over my head, and wondering how the hungry, homeless creatures out of doors would pass the night. Where do the birds sleep such nights as this? Where in this bitter cold, this darkness and storm, will they make their beds? The lark that broke from the snow at my feet as I crossed the pasture this afternoon--

What comes o' thee? Whar wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, An' close thy e'e?

The storm grew fiercer; the wind roared through the big pines by the side of the house and swept hoarsely on across the fields; the pines shivered and groaned, and their long limbs scraped over the shingles above me as if feeling with frozen fingers for a way in; the windows rattled, the cracks and corners of the old farm-house shrieked, and a long, thin line of snow sifted in from beneath the window across the garret floor. I fancied these sounds of the storm were the voices of freezing birds, crying to be taken in from the cold. Once I thought I heard a thud against the window, a sound heavier than the rattle of the snow. Something seemed to be beating at the glass. It might be a bird. I got out of bed to look; but there was only the ghostly face of the snow pressed against the panes, half-way to the window's top. I imagined that I heard the thud again; but, while listening, fell asleep and dreamed that my window was frozen fast, and that all the birds in the world were knocking at it, trying to get in out of the night and storm.

The fields lay pure and white and flooded with sunshine when I awoke. Jumping out of bed, I ran to the window, and saw a dark object on the sill outside. I raised the sash, and there, close against the glass, were two quails--frozen stiff in the snow. It was they I heard the night before fluttering at the window. The ground had been covered deep with snow for several days, and at last, driven by hunger and cold from the fields, they saw my light, and sought shelter from the storm and a bed for the night with me.

Four others, evidently of the same covey, spent the night in the wagon-house, and in the morning helped themselves fearlessly to the chickens' breakfast. They roosted with the chickens several nights, but took to the fields again as soon as the snow began to melt.

It is easy to account for our winter birds during the day. Along near noon, when it is warm and bright, you will find the sparrows, chickadees, and goldfinches searching busily among the bushes and weeds for food, and the crows and jays scouring the fields. But what about them during the dark? Where do they pass the long winter nights?

Why, they have nests, you say. Yes, they had nests in the summer, and then, perhaps, one of the parent birds may be said to have slept in the nest during the weeks of incubation and rearing of the young. But nests are cradles, not beds, and are never used by even the young birds from the day they leave them. Muskrats build houses, foxes have holes, and squirrels sleep in true nests; but of the birds it can be said, "they have not where to lay their heads." They sleep upon their feet in the grass, in hollow trees, and among the branches; but, at best, such a bed is no more than a roost. A large part of the year this roost is new every night, so that the question of a sleeping-place during the winter is most serious.

The cheerful little goldfinches, that bend the dried ragweeds and grass-stalks down and scatter their chaff over the snow, sleep in the thick cedars and pines. These warm, close-limbed evergreens I have found to be the lodging-houses of many of the smaller winter birds--the fox-colored sparrow, snowbird, crossbill, and sometimes of the chickadee, though he usually tucks his little black cap under his wing in a woodpecker's hole.

The meadow-larks always roost upon the ground. They creep well under the grass, or, if the wind is high and it snows, they squat close to the ground behind a tuft of grass or thick bush and sleep while the cold white flakes fall about them. They are often covered before the morning; and when housed thus from the wind and hidden from prowling enemies, no bird could wish for a cozier, warmer, safer bed.

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