Part 22

“Larry has only gone out for a little fly,” laughed Goldilocks; “he will be back before long, and if the window should happen to be closed, he will rap on the glass with his beak. No, his wings are well and strong, and he is perfectly able to go away to his friends in the church tower, for it was from one of those nests, that Tommy saw up between the slats, that he fell.

“Eben brought him up for mother to see, because a good many people down at the Centre Village had been watching these strange birds, and wanted to know their name and where they came from. He was too little to be turned out all alone, and Eben said that the nest had been upset and the others that fell out were dead, so, as he ate soaked dog-biscuit (because you know that there’s meat in it that makes up for bugs to young birds), I thought I would bring him up and then let him go; but you see the joke is that he won’t go, and he acts as much afraid of being out-of-doors after dark as a usual wild bird would if you put him in a cage.”

“Who brought Starlings here, and do they belong to the same family as Blackbirds? They look a lot like them, only they’ve got shorter tails,” said Tommy Todd.

“I think I have a description of the bird, as well as the date of his coming, in the scrap-book,” said Gray Lady, “for he is an English bird and the only one of its family in this country, so you can see why they may be lonely, and like to flock in company with the Blackbirds.

The Common Starling: Sturnus magnus.

Length: 8.5 inches.

Male and Female: Black plumage shot with metallic green and blue lights. In full plumage upper feathers edged with buff, giving a speckled appearance, which disappears as the feathers are worn down, leaving the winter plumage plain and dull. Yellow bill in summer; in winter, brown.

Note: A sharp flock-call and a clear, rather musical, two-syllable, falling whistle.

Nest: Behind blinds in unoccupied buildings, in vine-covered nooks in church towers; also in bushes.

Eggs: 4-7, greenish blue.

This bird is a foreigner, imported to New York City some fourteen years ago, some people are beginning to fear not too wisely, for the birds are rather quarrelsome, and, being larger than the English Sparrow, though not so hardy, are able to wage war upon birds like Robins, and seize the nesting-places of natives.

The first birds, less than a hundred in number, were set free in Central Park, New York City. Now these have increased to numerous flocks that in Connecticut have gone as far east as New Haven, and here in Fairfield and several villages near by are acclimated and quite at home, though the bitter and lasting cold of the winter of 1903-1904 thinned them out considerably.

Whether they prove a nuisance or not, they are very noticeable birds, looking to the first sight, as they walk sedately across a field, like Grackles with rumpled plumage. A second glance will show that this is but the effect of the buff specks that tip all the upper feathers, while the distinct yellow bill at once spells Starling!

In England they may be seen on the great open plains following the sheep as they feed, very much as the Cowbird follows our cattle, and in that country are very beneficial as insect destroyers.

“They are birds that will feed at the lunch-counter in winter, for their food supply is cut off by snow, and, as strangers, they have not yet the resources of the Crows and Jays, neither are they as hardy.

“Boys, Jacob is ready for you in the workroom, and he may keep you till quarter-past ten. I do not think that you will really accomplish much to-day, except to choose the kind of house you wish to make, and plan out your work. Then you may all take a fifteen-minutes’ recess in the orchard before you come up for the bird lesson.”

“What birds are you going to tell about to-day? I hope that they won’t be hat birds and Martyrs,” said Eliza Clausen, with a sigh.

“No, not ‘hat birds’ this morning, although there are plenty more of them, and always will be so long as people insist upon wearing the feathers in their hats. I had not quite decided what birds to take up next, but the recess in the orchard gives me a new idea. Instead of taking the birds in any set order, when you come in you shall tell me what birds you have noticed this morning. By this means we shall be able to take the birds as they come with the seasons, and they will never grow tiresome. Then, too, if, between times, you see any birds that you cannot name, or about which you wish to know, remember to tell me, and we will try to learn something about the bird while it is fresh in your memory.

“Now,” as the boys went to the workroom, “the girl members of the Kind Hearts’ Club will please thread needles and begin. If any one of you has sticky fingers, Ann will show you where to wash them, because the very beginning of good sewing lies in clean hands, for they mean nice white thread and bright, shining needles.”

When the cover was lifted from the table, and the girls saw the dolls, and the little stack of clothes, they exclaimed in delight,—even those like Katie Lee, who really did not belong at school, for she had stopped playing with dolls and was ready for the eighth grade. Only, unfortunately, there was no eighth grade class at Foxes Corners, and as it was too far for them to walk to the Centre every day, they stayed on at school, and Miss Wilde helped them as far as her time allowed so that they might make up the required lessons at home.

ENGLISH STARLING

Here’s to the stranger, so lately a ranger, Who came from far over seas;— Whatever the weather, still in high feather, At top of the windy trees!

Here’s to the darling,—brave English Starling, Stays the long winter through; He would not leave us, would not bereave us,— Not he, though our own birds do!

Cold weather pinches—flown are the finches, Thrushes and warblers too! Here’s to the darling, here’s to the Starling,— English Starling true!

—Edith M. Thomas, in Bird-Lore.

X SOME MISCHIEF-MAKERS

Crows and Jays, Starlings and Grackles

The children came back very promptly after the mid-morning recess, considering the attraction offered outside. Though cheeks and all available pockets fairly bulged with apples, they had sufficient appetite to enjoy the crisp cookies, plates of which were set at intervals on the plain-topped table in the playroom, together with pitchers of milk or a delicious drink of Ann’s invention compounded of oranges and lemons and sweetened with honey.