Part 40

The only time the purple grackle can do more harm than good is when he comes with a big crowd of his friends, and settles down to spend the winter. Then he should be driven away from crops.

I want you to understand me about this. I do not say that these birds never eat the eggs and young of others. What I do say is, that there is plenty of evidence to show that they do it not half so much as people say. I have watched birds for twenty years, as closely, I believe, as any one ever watched them, and I never saw any of the bad deeds that are laid to the blue jay, or the shrike, or the kingbird, or the purple grackle. They may be guilty occasionally, but they are not the villains they are often said to be.

Besides, however bad we may call a few birds, we are ourselves worse. Birds kill only to eat. Many of them are made to feed upon each other, and cannot live in any other way. They kill quickly, and do not generally--if they ever do--torture their prey.

How is it with us? We kill for sport, or for useless show, and we kill in a way that often wounds and leaves our victim to suffer tortures before he dies. Do you think it is fair for us to say hard things about the birds?

In the Rocky Mountains and west of them the common blackbird is BREWER'S BLACKBIRD, sometimes called blue-headed grackle. He is not so shy as his brother of the East. He is amiable and friendly with people, and as familiar as the robin in New England. He is often seen in the streets of towns. He will come into yards, and even take food from a doorstep.

Brewer's blackbird is a restless, uneasy fellow, like most of his family. He is always bustling about, and flying hither and thither with rustling wings.

In summer, these birds feed mostly upon insects, which they find on the ground. They have an amusing way of being fair in their feeding. As they walk about in little social parties looking for food, those who come last in the string find the insects nearly all picked up before they get a chance. So they take this clever way of getting their turn at the good things. Every few minutes those in the rear rise and fly over the heads of their friends and alight just before them. So they have the first pick for a while. Then, in a few minutes, those left behind fly over their heads, and take the lead for a time. So, without any quarreling, each one has a fair chance with all the rest. Other birds have found out this way of playing fair. I have seen great blue herons three feet tall do the same thing.

In winter, when insects are scarce, the blackbird turns to grain and the seeds of weeds. But it has been found that he does more good by the weeds he keeps down than harm by the grain he eats.

Brewer's blackbird usually nests in trees, not very high. One time a naturalist going about in Arizona, where are few or no trees, found a curious thing,--a good many blackbird nests, a little settlement one might call it, on the ground, and all strung along close to the edge of a steep bank. At first he could not see why the birds had chosen to be on the edge of a precipice. Then he remembered that horses and cattle roamed over the country, and these animals are careful never to graze close to an edge which might crumble and give them a fall. He concluded that the birds had wit enough to know that. If their nests were out on the plains, they would be likely to be stepped on, but near the edge, they were safe from hoofs.

The common call of Brewer's blackbird is a harsh "chack;" but in the spring he turns musical, and serenades his mate with what we must call songs, because songs are what he intends. They are droll enough to listen to, and not very sweet.

This bird is about the size of a robin, with violet-colored head in the sunlight. His mate is slate-colored.

Birds who live in a crowd learn to be fair in their treatment of one another. An interesting story is told of the way a flock of blackbirds go to bed at night. They come to the roosting-place in little parties from all the country around. One would suppose the first one to get there would choose his place to sleep, and let the last one take what was left.

But no! as they arrive, they alight in some big old tree outside the roosting-place. When all are in, they fly up together, circle around for a while, then all settle at the same time in the place where they are to sleep.

XXIII

THE CROW FAMILY

(Corvidæ)

THIS is a large family. Some of our most intelligent birds belong to it. There are first the crows, much larger than a robin and dressed in black. They have long, pointed wings, and tails square at the end. They live in a crowd, and walk on the ground.

Then there are the jays, about the size of a robin, all bright-colored birds. They have short, rounded wings, and long tails which come down almost to a point in the middle.

And then the magpies, between the other two in size. They have tails longer and more pointed than the jays, and are dressed in black with showy white markings.

The common AMERICAN CROW is a bird that everybody knows. He lives all over our country, and seems to like one part as well as another. There is enough to be said about this bird to fill this whole book. So I shall not try to tell all about him.

The crow is thought by many people to be the most knowing bird in America, and he is the one who has been most abused. He does some mischief, it is true, but he does a great deal more good. So say the officers of the Department who have looked into his food. They have found that he does pull up some corn; but he stuffs himself and his family with thousands, and even millions, of grubs, and insects, and mice, and other small creatures, that would have done far more damage to the crops than he.

Farmers have often killed or driven away the crows, because they thought they were hurting their crops. But sometimes they have found out their mistake, and have been glad to get them back again.

A story comes from the West which shows what I mean. One year the farmers were alarmed to see a great many crows around their fields. They had never seen so many there. Of course they thought they had come to eat the corn, so they began to kill them. I won't tell you the ugly story of the war against the birds. After it had gone on awhile, the farmers began to notice that crows were not the only ones who had come. A new grub that they had never seen before was on hand. There were millions of them, and they were always hungry. Young corn plants seemed to suit them, and when corn was gone, they began eating the grass.

It never came into the farmers' heads that the birds had anything to do with the grubs. So they kept up their war on the crows till few were left.

It's easier to drive away birds than insects, so the grubs went on eating. There were no crows left to trouble, and yet the crops got smaller every year. At last some one had sense enough to see that the crows had come on purpose to eat the grubs, and that they had driven away their best friends, the most useful helpers they could possibly have.

When they saw how stupid they had been, they began to coax the birds back. They sent out and had crows caught and brought to their fields to work for them. The birds took hold of the business, and made short work of the corn-eating grub, and the farmers learned a good lesson.

You may think it strange that the crows should know where the grubs were, but birds are very sharp to find their food. It is well known that when there gets to be an unusual number of insects in one place, more birds will come to feed on them. Some time when you are in the country when grass is cut, notice how many birds will come to eat the grasshoppers and other creatures that are uncovered when the hay is taken away.

The crows take the same fair way of going to roost that the Brewer's blackbirds do.