Part 72

“As an adult, the Oriole lives on rather mixed diet and has a great love of honey; but of course as a parent he is, with his sharp beak, a great provider of animal food for his home, and to his credit must be placed a vast number of injurious tree-top insects that escape the notice of less agile birds.

“Complaints are frequently heard of his propensity for opening pods and eating young peas, piercing the throats of trumpet-shaped flowers for the honey, and in the autumn, before the southward migration, siphoning grape and plum juice by means of this same slender, pointed bill.

“Personally, I have never lost peas through his appetite for green vegetables, though I have had the entire floral output of an old trumpet-vine riddled bud and blossom; and I have often stood and scolded them from under the boughs of a Spitzenburgh apple tree, amid the blossoms of which they were rummaging,—perhaps for insects, but also scattering the rosy blossoms right and left with torn and bruised petals. Powell, in The Independent, writes feelingly of this trait of the Oriole, thus:—

“‘An Oriole is like a golden shuttle in the foliage of the trees, but he is the incarnation of mischief. That is just the word for it. If there is anything possible to be destroyed, the Oriole likes to tear it up.

“‘He wastes a lot of string in building his nest. He is pulling off apple blossoms now, possibly eating a few petals. By and by he will pick holes in bushels of grapes, and in plum season he will let the wasps and hornets into the heart of every Golden Abundance plum on your favourite tree. . . . Yet the saucy scamp is so beautiful that he is tolerated—and he does kill an enormous lot of insects. There is a swinging nest just over there above the blackberry bushes. It is wonderfully woven and is a cradle as well as a house. I should like to have been brought up in such a homestead.’

“It seems as if the Oriole must be a descendant of one of the brilliant birds that inhabited North America in by-gone days of tropic heat and that has stayed on from a matter of hereditary association; for in the nesting season it is to be found from Florida and Texas up to New Brunswick and the Saskatchewan country and westward to the Rockies, beyond which this type is replaced by Bullock’s Oriole, of much similar colouring save that it has more orange on the sides of the head, and the white wing-patch is larger.

“But however much the Baltimore Oriole loves his native land, the climate and the exigencies of travel make his stay in it brief; for he does not appear until there is some protection of foliage and he starts southward toward his winter home in Central and South America often before a single leaf has fallen.

THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE

O Golden Robin! pipe again That happy, hopeful, cheering strain!

A prisoner in my chamber, I See neither grass, nor bough, nor sky; Yet to my mind thy warblings bring, In troops, all images of spring; And every sense is satisfied But what thy magic has supplied. As by enchantment, now I see On every bush and forest tree The tender, downy leaf appear.— The loveliest robe they wear.

The tulip and the hyacinth grace The garden bed; each grassy place With dandelions glowing bright, Or king-cups, childhood’s pure delight, Invite the passer-by to tread Upon the soft, elastic bed, And pluck again the simple flowers Which charmed so oft his younger hours. The apple orchards all in bloom— I seem to smell their rare perfume. And thou, gay whistler! to whose song These powers of magic art belong, On top of lofty elm I see Thy black and orange livery; Forgive that word! a freeman bold, Of choice thou wearest jet and gold, And no man’s livery dost bear, Thou flying tulip! free as air!

Come, Golden Robin! once again That magic, joy-inspiring strain!

—Thomas Hill.

“Of all our North American birds, the Tanager is the most gorgeous and suggestive of the tropics. I do not understand how any one can fail to name him. He is unlike any other. Entire body rich scarlet, wings and tail black; that is all that there is to remember about him in spring dress. In autumn he moults to a greenish yellow like his mate, but still keeps his black wings and tail.

“This bird is commonly thought to be rare, but that is because he loves groves of oaks, chestnuts, and beeches, and Nature has taught him to keep in high deep shade, that his colour, far richer than the Cardinals, may not make him a target for enemies, both feathered and human. But in the migrations he is often to be seen. Half a dozen were feeding at one time in the garden and about the lunch-counter this spring, and in May, whenever I drove about or went to Fair Meadows village, some one was sure to either ask me the name of the beautiful red birds that they had seen about the yard, or, if they knew the bird, tell how plentiful Tanagers had been this year.

“Protection has certainly helped this bird, and in some places it is said to be increasing; and as it is distinctly a bird of high trees, where its nest of loosely built sticks is placed, it is not so much affected by the modern plague of cats as either Robin, Song Sparrow, or the Thrushes. ‘The song resembles somewhat that of the Robin, but is shorter and less varied, with a little apparent hoarseness or harshness in the tone. Chi-chi-chi-char-ee, char-ee-chi represents it fairly well.’ It also has a sharp ‘Chip-churr!’ alarm note.

“The Robin, Grosbeak, and Tanager all have certain notes in common, so that when they all sing at once, it is often difficult to distinguish the individual songs.

“The Tanager is the guardian of the forest trees and their insect pests. As a caterpillar hunter, it is said ‘he has but few superiors.’ He finds the leaf-rolling caterpillar in its snug retreat and destroys myriads of weevils, click-beetles, and crane-flies. The Tanager also visits orchards, and in early spring, during the migrations, he braves danger and feeds in the furrows of ploughed land in the same way as the Grackles and Robins.

“The Tanagers are unique little specimens when they first leave the nest, for the male birds undergo as many changes of colour as Harlequin in the pantomime. After the down of nestlings, they wear the dull colour of the mother, and before they put on the full spring plumage, they go through a stage of patchwork such as you see in this picture in my portfolio. Then after being bright red all summer, they again go through the patchwork state before leaving in fall.

“The coming of cold weather evidently warns this Tanager to go, for being provided with a dull travelling cloak, he need no more fear being seen in the leafless trees than the Thrushes or Sparrows.

“Thistle-bird, Lettuce-bird, and Yellowbird are all names given to this friendly little Sparrow of the stout bill, black cap, tail, wings, and bright gamboge-yellow plumage, who lives with us all the year and is almost always seen in flocks. In spring we find these birds and their more sober wives feeding on dandelion seeds. In early summer they glean grass seeds in the hayfields. In late summer and early autumn they flutter about the seeding thistle in company with the rich red butterflies, and after this, the male and female, garbed alike, then live wherever the wild composite flowers like asters, sunflowers, or garden marigolds and zinnias have gone to seed and in the great waste fields of weeds.

“At all times its flight is noticeable for its dip, followed by an upward jerk, and as they fly, they call ‘per-chic-o-ree-per-chic-o-ree’ (Chapman) in a jolly, gleeful manner.

“In May, June, and July they sing in a varied and canary-like manner from tree-tops and as they swing on stalks of grass, having quite powerful voices for their size, which is under five inches.

“A lover and close observer of these Goldfinches has written the summer life of a pair of these birds in so interesting a fashion that I will read it to you. Either the pair that she describes were very late in nesting, or it was their second brood.

Order—Passeres Family—Fringillidæ Genus—Astragalinus Species—Tristis

A GOLDFINCH IDYL

Do you know of any far-away pasture where, in blueberry time, Sparrows play hide-and-seek in the bushes, and Finches are like little golden balls tossed on the breeze? It was in such a field that my Goldfinch found the thistle-down for her soft couch—her couch, observe, for it was the dull mate in greenish olive that made the bed.

I was there when the maple twig was chosen for the nest—as good luck would have it—close by our cottage door and in plain sight from my window. The choice was announced by a shower of golden notes from the male bird and a responsive twitter from his mate. She began building at once, quickly outlining the nest with grasses and bark. Her approach was always heralded by a burst of song from her mate, who hovered near while she deftly wove the pretty fabric and then flew away with him to the base of supply.