A Sparrow Protected a Lady From Caterpillars

1895

Blessings On Wings — Birds That Seemed to Have Been Sent As Benefactors — 3

A curious circumstance of a bird's kindly assistance is thus related by Miss Alice Moreland of Tennessee, who, for the benefit of her health, spent the spring of 1894 at Lampasas Springs, Tex. Miss Moreland says: "Toward nightfall of an exceedingly sultry April day a fierce wind came swooping down the mountains, bringing what is termed in Texas a 'wet norther.' The wind whistled and shrieked and howled, shaking the house with its force, and the rain came down in perfect torrents.

"I was in my room alone, trying to write some letters which it was necessary for me to get off in next morning's mail, but I was constantly interrupted by horrid little caterpillars which came crawling under my door or between the window sashes where they were imperfectly joined. Those disgusting little pests had made my life a misery to me ever since spring opened, and I really began to feel that the whole great state of Texas was alive with them.

"Do you wonder, then, that I relished seeing one of these bristly fellows perched atop of my paperweight or crawling up the leg of my table? You may imagine that, with the storm raging without and the caterpillars within, my nerves were in a very shaky condition, to say the least, so I was not a little startled in the midst of it all to hear a quick tapping on the transom above my door. I looked to behold 'darkness there, and nothing more.' Again the tapping, and this time a flash of lightning showed me a bird fluttering against the pane and tapping with his beak.

" 'Come in, poor storm tossed little one,' I said, opening the door, and there flew in a bird, one of the great sparrow family, who perched himself upon the broad picture molding which ran around my room. He seemed quite content to remain there, and as the storm had lulled somewhat, and the caterpillars were apparently put to rout by my frequent and frantic attacks upon them with a broom, I felt more comfortable myself and soon finished my writing.

"When I was ready to retire, and just as I was about to blow out the light preparatory to getting into bed, my little feathered guest began to flit around overhead, and by and by dipped down before my very face and caught in his bill a great, yellow, hairy caterpillar, which was quietly reposing on the pillow, where, in a moment later, I would have placed my head, only to feel his innumerable bristles sting their way into my flesh. I exhausted every effort to discover if perhaps another lay in some unsuspected ambush, but in vain. The little bird had proved an efficient protector." — Philadelphia Times.

The Plover That Guided a Little Girl to Her Parents

1895

Blessings On Wings — Birds That Seemed to Have Been Sent As Benefactors — 2

Mary, the small daughter of L. C. Hewett, a cattle dealer of Bell county, Tex., having gone with her parents and a party of friends on a picnic excursion to one of the neighboring mountain peaks, got lost in playing about by herself, being the only child in the crowd. Mrs. Hewett, being busily engaged with her friends, had suffered little Mary to wander about at her own sweet will, and ere long the unsuspecting child had climbed with her nimble young feet quite to the summit of the mountain. Like all the outcroppings of the region, this peak is composed of the rocks and fossils belonging to the cretacean period, so that no tracks might be left in the shaly soil. Besides the mountain is literally inwrapped by a dense growth of scrubby low growing cedars, making an almost impenetrable thicket. When little Mary discovered that she was alone on the mountain top, she did just what any child would do under the circumstances — that is, she began to call her mother. But a strong west wind carried her voice away, and no answer came from below.

Now, Mary was a good little Sunday school girl, and as she sat there desolate and alone on the mountain she remembered some of the sweet truths she had heard of one who is ever ready to help those that are lost, so what did she do but put up a prayer in her little baby way that he might help her. As she prayed she wondered in her innocence how anything big could make its way through all those sprawling, scraggy cedars, so she asked that a little bird might be sent to guide her.

The words had scarcely left her lips when she saw a plover flitting about in the cedars below her feet. Overjoyed at the sight, the child at once began to scramble down, the bird leading the way over rooks and cedar brush. It was a long and toilsome descent, with her little foot slipping and stumbling over the loose stones, but the bird flitted back and forth before her, and she did not despair.

By and by the journey came to an end, however. Mary heard voices and presently caught sight of her friends, who had just become aware of her absence. she ran to them joyfully, telling of the bird that had brought her down the mountain, and as they looked they saw a plover mount in air, winging its way eastward. — Philadelphia Times.

How the Quail Saved Little Edgar's Life

1895

Blessings On Wings — Birds That Seemed to Have Been Sent As Benefactors — 1

Edgar, the youngest son of James Keener of Claiborne parish, La., had been very ill for several weeks, so ill, in fact, that the little fellow's life was despaired of, when a singular occurrence, in which a quail played a conspicuous part, turned the tide in his favor. The boy had made a brave struggle with death, but the slow, wasting fever had almost exhausted his powers of endurance, and even his appetite had left him. The mother and father used every means in their possession to tempt him to eat, but in vain, and the only nourishment he received had to be forced upon him.

Finally, one morning, when, to the grief stricken parents, the end seemed near at hand, Edgar asked if he might have a broiled partridge. Quail are very plentiful in Louisiana, and Mr. Keener set out gladly with his gun, never doubting that he would kill one for his son. He searched the fields and adjoining woods eagerly, but in vain. At last he stopped all the hands on the place and sent them in every direction, scouring the whole neighborhood, yet not a bird was started.

Late in the afternoon, leaving the men still hunting, he went home sorrowful, fearing his child might have grown worse from disappointment. By and by Mrs. Keener came and called him softly, and following her into the sickroom what was his amazement to see sitting on the footboard of Edgar's bed a round, plump partridge. They shut the doors and windows, captured the bird, and Edgar was soon smacking his feeble lips over the broiled brown breast. The little fellow began to improve from that moment and still lives to tell the story of the bird that, as he says, "saved his life." — Philadelphia Times.

An Egg That Holds Two Gallons

1895

One of the most interesting specimens in the National museum at Washington is a cast of an egg of most gigantic size, which was found in a guana bed on the island of Madagascar about 25 years ago. The shell of this egg will hold almost exactly two gallons of liquid, which would make its capacity equal to 148 average sized eggs laid by the common barnyard fowl. The bird which laid this mammoth egg is now extinct and has been for probably 200 years. To the scientist — who knows it by its bones and eggs — it is known as the epiornis, and its restored skeletons prove it to have been a bird at least 12 feet in height. Arab sailors who visited Madagascar centuries ago, when the epiornis was still living, are believed to have brought back the stories concerning it which finally developed into the fabulous narratives of the roc. — St. Louis Republic.


Simple

A woman living in the north of England, not being able to tell the time by the clock, was asked one day by a friend how she knew when it was time to get her husband's dinner ready. She answered, "When the big finger points to the pantry door and the little finger to Mrs. X.'s (meaning her next door neighbor), then I know." — London Tit-Bits.


Trivia

Cleopatra is said to have spoken all the languages used by her subjects, together with Latin and Greek. Altogether she understood 11 or 12.

Spelt is a favorite grain in south Germany and Switzerland.

Dainties Loved By Gourmets

1895

Feathered Product of Certain Places Highly Prized by Epicures.

Among specialties regarding birds may be mentioned the capon of Surrey and Sussex and the turkey and geese of Norfolk and Suffolk. Passing through Essex, one may see whole "herds" of geese and ducks in the fields there fattening without thought of the future. Most of these birds, writes Dr. Doran, are "foreigners." They are Irish by birth, but they are brought over by steam, in order to be perfected by an English education, and when the due state of perfection has been attained they are transferred to London.

Dunstable larks are a dainty much coveted by epicures, and London is annually supplied from the country about Dunstable alone with not fewer than 4,000 dozen. But the enthusiasm with which the gourmets speak of those birds is far exceeded by the Germans, who travel many hundred miles to Leipsic merely to eat a dinner of larks. Such is the slaughter of larks at the Leipsic fair that as many as half a million are annually eaten, principally by the booksellers frequenting that city.

Whittlesey mere, in Huntingdonshire, now drained, once produced the finest ruffs and reeves, a delicacy of which Prince Talleyrand was extremely fond, his regular allowance during the season being two a day. An amusing anecdote is told of a young curate who had come up to be examined for priest's orders and was asked to dinner at Bishopthorpe by Archbishop Markham. Out of modesty he confined himself exclusively to the dish before him till one of the resident dignitaries observed him. But it was too late. The ruffs and reeves had vanished to a bird.

A similar tale has been told of another delicate morsel, the wheatear, popularly designated "the English ortolan." A Scotch officer was dining with a certain Lord George Lennox, then commandant at Portsmouth, and was placed near a dish of wheatears, which was rapidly disappearing under his repeated attentions to it. Lady Louisa Lennox tried to divert his notice to another dish, but "Na, na, mileddy," was the reply. "These wee birdie will do verra weel." — Exchange.

The Raven

1895

Many birds seek the protection which the presence of man affords against furred and feathered foes when the breeding season approaches. Not so the raven. Its distrust of us is profound, and its nest is placed in some wild spot far out of reach of our possible attack or succor. But there are other enemies.

I know of a pair that built on one side of a projecting crag high up on the cliffs of Rathlin island. Some fierce peregrine falcons occupied the other side of the crag, and when one day their eggs were taken by an adventurous collector they, sharing the popular opinion of a raven's blackness, concluded that their neighbors were the offenders and wreaked their grief and vengeance upon them.

When, on their return from a foraging expedition, the falcons found their nest despoiled, they were seen to hold a consultation, and after much deliberation they suddenly arose, and both with one accord flew at the raven's nest and sacked it, tearing it in their rage and indignation until not one stick was left upon another. — London Quiver.



Too Much to Expect

A too hasty generalization is that accredited to Pelissier, once marshal of France. It was during the last empire that he was reviewing a regiment of cavalry when this conversation took place between him and a captain:

"Well, captain, how many men have you in your squadron?"

"One hundred and twenty, marshal." "And how many horses have you?" "A hundred and ten."

"And all devoted to the emperor, I hope!" — Youth's Companion.

A Kind Word For the Sparrow

1895

The sparrow has several characteristics that are altogether admirable. Very few of the creatures who navigate the air or walk upon the ground show greater capacity or willingness to take care of themselves. The sparrow, like the despised rat, has no little merit as a tiny scavenger, and, like the rat, where man goes he follows.

It is safe to say nothing has been made in vain. Even those creatures which are esteemed by man as vermin have their place and their use in the wise order of Providence. This is none the less true because we cannot penetrate the wisdom of creation. Despite the persecution of his enemies and the vagaries of the weather, it will be observed that the sparrow flourishes. The merciful men and women who look after the vagrant birds and dogs and other creatures who mutely appeal to human sympathy will not go without their reward. — Philadelphia Record.

The Throstle

1895

In his declining years it was one of Owen's favorite amusements to observe the habits of birds which frequented his garden. Of the throstle he says: There are a few old cherry trees in the garden, One of them a Bigarreau. This I netted in my first summer's possession to preserve the tempting fruit. When the dish came to table, I thought of the frequent pleasures which the morning and evening warblings of the little robbers had given me and felt ashamed at fencing off what I could cheaply get, as fresh and better, from neighboring market gardens. I never repeated the practice, but left the Bigarreaus with the other cherries as "salary of the orchestra." — Life of Richard Owen.

Industrious Woodpeckers

1895

Linemen of some of the telegraph and telephone companies centering in Reading have made a discovery as to the destructive propensities of woodpeckers that almost surpasses belief. The costly cedar poles brought from Canada, these birds have discovered, are soft through the center to the top.

They first hunt for a knot near the bottom, and around this they peck with their long sharp bills until they extract it. They work all around it until it is dislodged. They then continue pecking until the center of the pole is reached, after which the softer material is removed. In some cases the interior of the pole at the point attacked is nothing more than a more shell, and any sudden gale is apt to snap it off.

The birds sometimes build their nests inside the hollow pole and have been known to be killed by its breaking. The cedar poles taken out after they are ruined by the birds are generally replaced by chestnut poles, which are seldom attacked.

Linemen are instructed to keep an extra sharp lookout for poles damaged in this way, and when they find they have been used as hatcheries to renew them. — Philadelphia Ledger.

Stork Legends

1895

In an old collection of matronly stories entitled "The Gospel of the Distaff," printed at Bruges in 1475, I find this passage: "When a stork builds her nest over a chimney, it is a sign that the proprietor shall have wealth and long life." Ancient beliefs admitted that the stork protected buildings against lightning. It is a holy bird, and in certain German towns the arrival of the storks, heralds of spring, was announced with joyous blasts by the watchman on the tower.

What is certain is that which Michelet says of the swallow may be applied to the stork, "He has taken not only our house, but also our hearts."

Legends go still further. They consider storks as the incarnation of departed souls.

In that metamorphosed capacity they have for mission to search the bottom of wells for the souls of newborn infants. In the whole of northern and central Germany they have their baby wells. Hamburg, too, had her "kindelbrunnen." This naive faith has its origin in ancient mythology, which represents the stork, jointly with the peacock, as the favorite bird of Juno, goddess of maternity. — French of Maurice Engelhart.

The Stork

1895

In Holland some bad boys presumed upon the absence of the stork from her nest to substitute hen eggs for her own. The mother never suspected the trick and conscientiously hatched out her false progeniture. But when the little pullets made their appearance father and mother were in consternation. They screamed in turn, flapped their wings, turned around their nest in great excitement, then together pounced upon the fraudulent children and massacred them without pity.

A similar story comes from a greater distance. At Smyrna a French surgeon, wishing to procure storks' eggs for some purpose, abstracted them from a nest in the vicinity and replaced them with hens' eggs, as in the preceding case. The mother faithfully hatched them out, but at the critical moment there was a conjugal scene, and the husband left home only to return very soon with a large number of his brethren. A court was constituted and a circle formed around the wife accused of adultery. The husband exposed his complaint, and the poor innocent, condemned to death, was immediately hacked to pieces. The nest remained deserted.

Like Caesar's wife, the female stork remains above suspicion. — French of Maurice Englehart.

Gulls Perched on Cedars

1895

The captain of a steamer that plies along the New England coast, and that was passing one of the rugged, lonely islands off the Maine shore, pointed to an enormous flock of gulls that whitened the rocks, the surface of the sea and the branches of the cedars that cling to the hard soil. "There," said he, "what do you think of that? And yet if you turn to a book on natural history they'll tell you that gulls won't perch on trees. Some fool sailors believe that the petrels, or Mother Caray's chickens, never alight, even on the water, but are always on the wing. They don't use their eyes. And some of these scientific fellows are as bad as the sailors." — Lewiston Journal.

House Wren

1916

(Troglodytes aedon)

Length, four and three-fourths inches. The only one of our wrens with wholly whitish underparts that lacks a light line over the eye.

Range: Breeds throughout the United States (except the South Atlantic and Gulf States) and southern Canada; winters in the southern United States and Mexico.

Habits and economic status: The rich, bubbling song of the familiar little house wren is one of the sweetest associations connected with country and suburban life. Its tiny body, long bill, sharp eyes, and strong feet peculiarly adapt it for creeping into all sorts of nooks and crannies where lurk the insects it feeds on. A cavity in a fence post, a hole in a tree, or a box will be welcomed alike by this busybody as a nesting site; but since the advent of the quarrelsome English sparrow such domiciles are at a premium and the wren's eggs and family are safe only in cavities having entrances too small to admit the sparrow. Hence it behooves the farmer's boy to provide boxes the entrances to which are about an inch in diameter, nailing these under gables of barns and outhouses or in orchard trees. In this way the numbers of this useful bird can be increased, greatly to the advantage of the farmer. Grasshoppers, beetles, caterpillars, bugs, and spiders are the principal elements of its food. Cutworms, weevils, ticks, and plant lice are among the injurious forms eaten. The nestlings of house wrens consume great quantities of insects.

Queer Compact of Osprey and Eagle

1916

WHY FISH HAWK FEEDS KING OF THE AIR.

Bird of Freedom Watches Fisher's Nest While It Dives for Prey for Both.

PHILADELPHIA, Pennsylvania. — Everybody who summers on the Jersey coast has seen the fish hawk at work, tho of late years the number of such birds seems to be decreasing.

The negroes down in Charles County, Maryland, in that faraway region of Rock Point, on the lower Potomac where the river broadens out like a sea and where the fish hawk is common, have a story about it and the eagle which is interesting. While the fish hawk, or osprey, dives into the water for its food, which consists of fish and eels, the eagle is a "landlubber" and would starve is he had to undertake a livelihood by braving the watery depths.

The story that has its place in the folklore of the "Black Belt" of Maryland is that one day the eagle was very hungry and meeting the fish hawk as he was flying home with a fine fat fish in his claws, said:

"Mr. Fish Hawk, you and I might as well be friends and join together and work for our mutual advantage."

"I am willing," said the fish hawk, soaring along with the eagle by his side, but keeping a tighter grip on the fish.

Fish Hawk Feeds Eagle.

"As you agree with me, I'll tell you what we can do," said the eagle. "If you will catch all the fish you can and give me half of what you get, I'll keep watch in the old pine tree next to your nest and protect your wife and children from the sparrow hawks and your other enemies while you are at work fishing."

"All right," said the fish hawk, "I will do it."

From that day on, the story goes, the fish hawk has fed the eagle. He does this in an odd and interesting manner. His eyes are very keen and he can see to a considerable depth in the water, and as he skims along over the surface of the deep he picks out the fat fish he wants. Quick as lightning he plunges down, extends his claws, and in the next instant rises with the wriggling prey in his talons. After taking a firmer hold on his victim he ascends by a spiral flight into the heavens. The eagle has been watching from a tall tree or crag, and, as the fish hawk rises, the eagle also darts into the sky above him. This is notice for all the fish hawk's enemies among the feathered tribe to retreat.

"Throw and Catch" in Air.

Just as the fish hawk gets to a point on a plane that is level with that of the eagle, he relaxes his grip on the fish and it begins to fall. It is then the eagle's time for quick action. Like a shot from a rapid-fire gun he dives and in a second or two has the fish in his claws.

The aerial "throw and catch" game between the two great birds goes on continually over the broad waters of the Potomac, much to the edification of the onlookers. Of course there must be times when the eagle fails to catch the fish as he swoops down thru the air after it, but it cannot be proved by any one who has witnessed this particular aerial feat on the part of the "bird of freedom." Nobody seems to have ever seen the eagle miss and nobody seems to have ever known the fish hawk to fail to catch a fish when he dived for it.

As the fish hawk rises in the air oftentimes, especially on a sunny day, the sheen of the fish can be seen like a piece of silver in his claws, and sometimes the "silver" can he seen wriggling, impressing one strangely as his eyes witness this tragedy in the air in which the victim can have no hope of rescue.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 7.

Pigeons' Nests

1901

A curious preference of certain pigeons for the use of metallic objects in building their nests is noted by M. Maurice Dusolier in The Revue Scientifique.

He assures us that several pairs of these birds that he has observed in Paris have raised their young in nests made entirely of hairpins! These articles they collected in the paths of the Luxembourg.

The young pigeons grew up normally as they would in a softer nest. M. Dusolier believes that there is a useful suggestion in this for pigeon fanciers, who are often overanxious, he thinks, to see that their charges have soft material for their nests.

Cock Shooting In Tall Corn

1901

Cock shooting in tall corn is as easy to the expert as it is puzzling to the novice. You will, of course, work with the rows, not across them, and if you are wise you will shoot at every glimpse of a bird and very frequently after an instant's sight of him, when you can only guess where he is. Sharp work, say ye, my masters. Yes, in a measure, but not so wonderful after all. You certainly must be ever ready and swift and smooth in action, but actual sight of the bird at the instant of pulling trigger is not necessary.

Green corn won't stop even fine shot, and your charge will give a pattern as big as a bushel basket: hence the shaking of a leaf, the flick of a vanishing wing, are enough for the master of the art. In an instant his gun is on the spot where a species of lightning calculation tells him the bird should be, and the trigger is pressed without the slightest delay. The difficulty with the novice is to get him to shoot at once instead of waiting in vain for a clear view. Experts kill bird after bird in this way. The novice must dismiss all thoughts of empty shells. No good sportsman worries over misses, though he will learn from failures how to hold next time. There is no royal road to success in the field. Nothing but experience really counts. So let the novice crack away, although he may only get one bird in ten. We all know what he'll get if he doesn't shoot at all. — Outing.

Snake Demands Its Eggs Fresh

1914

Species of South African Snake With a Dainty Appetite and Keen Sense of Smell

The South African snake called the eggeater has inherited from long generations of ancestors a sense of smell so acute that it appears never to be at fault. Professor Fitzsimons, director of the Port Elizabeth museum, gives in his book on "The Snakes of South Africa" an interesting instance of the wisdom of these serpents.

"Being short of fresh pigeons' eggs once, I went to my cabinet and took the clean-blown shells of a few doves' eggs. Beating up the contents of a fowl's fresh egg, I syringed them into the empty shells, and carefully pasted tiny bits of tissue paper over the holes. I put these in the eggeaters' cage, and watched, for I expected the snakes to swallow them as they did the other eggs. First one eggeater advanced. He touched each egg gently in turn with the tip of his nose or the point of his forked tongue, and crawled away in disgust. Another and yet another eagerly advanced, repeated the performance, and straightway retired. I began to get interested. Leaving the eggs, I returned in a few hours' time to find them still there.

"For two whole weeks those eggs remained in the cage untouched, although I refrained from giving the snakes any others. Then I procured some fresh pigeons' eggs and put them into the cage. The snakes approached, touched them with their noses or tongues, and instantly began to swallow them. I tried this experiment a second time with the same result. Frequently I have noticed that the snakes would eat some of the eggs that I gave them, and reject others. On breaking the latter open, I always found that they were either addled or else had a partially developed young bird inside. I could never induce an eggeater to swallow an egg that was not perfectly fresh.

"The eggeater is an expert climber, and his sense of smell is so sharp that he can discover birds' nests with the greatest facility. If you place an empty bird's nest in the cage of an eggeater, he will take no notice of it, except to use it occasionally for a cozy bed. But if you put fresh eggs in it, he at once detects their presence, although they are hidden from his sight." — Youth's Companion.

An Engineer's Experience

1902

"The superstition about owls is a wonderful thing," said an old railroad engineer, "and if I had not been inclined to be superstitious about the birds the engine I was riding one night would have been knocked into smithereens and the passengers in the coaches might have fared very badly. I am not always superstitious, but I am particularly so about owls. But I like the creatures, for one certainly saved my life.

"The incident occurred on a very dark night. The train was running at full speed. We were running on a straight line, and there was nothing for the fireman and myself to do but to look directly ahead and let her run. I had been looking intently for an hour, when something flew into the cab. It struck the coal pile and fell back dead. It was a great gray owl. Within less time than it takes to tell it I began to think that the owl was a bad omen, and I stopped the train immediately. I cannot say what made me feel so, but I was sure that death was ahead. I descended and walked to a switch that was a short distance ahead of us. It was open and a long train of empty freight cars was on it.

"I had the owl stuffed, and since that time he has had a place in the cab of my engine. I owe my life to the superstition about owls, and if another one strikes my engine I will close the throttle at once." — New Orleans Times-Democrat.

As to Conversational Parrots

1902

Do parrots understand what they say? A correspondent writes that a friend with a fine Brazilian parrot has been staying with her. The parrot a fluent and accomplished speaker. A gray parrot was introduced one day, but the Brazilian haughtily declined to have anything to say to the gray. Then another friend, who had just been given a newly imported green Brazilian, brought the newcomer to call.

The moment the parrots caught sight of each other they broke into a torrent of apparently articulate language, consisting, as it seemed, of questions and answers, but what the language was no one present could tell. The owner of the first parrot had never during the years it had lived with her heard it speak this strange tongue. The two parrots talked to each other without ceasing all the time they were together, and a few days later, when they met again, exactly the same thing happened. Was the first parrot — long exiled from its native forests — asking eagerly for news of its people? — London Chronicle.

A Comb In the Claw

1907

Many birds possess a useful comb in the claw of the middle toe of the foot. This has been noticed in owls, nightjars, herons, bitterns, cormorants, gannets, etc.

It has been explained as a means of holding the prey securely. The comb is sometimes replaced by a curved blade with teeth, which runs along the inner side of the claw. Such a blade is found in razorbills, wild ducks, gulls, starlings and many other birds.

Where a comb is required the inner edge of this blade becomes divided into teeth. Young nightjars or goatsuckers have only the blade, but old ones have a well developed comb.