I CAN BUT SING.

"O little bird of restless wing,

Why dost thou sing so sweet and loud?

Why dost thou sing so strong and proud?

Why dost thou sing?"

"Oh I have drunk the wine of spring,

My mate hath built a nest with me:

My hope flames out in song," said he,

"I can but sing."


From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.	MAGNOLIA WARBLER. Life-size.	Copyright by Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898. Chicago.

BIRDS PAIRING IN SPRING.

O the deep woods They haste away, all as their fancy leads, Pleasure, or food, or secret safety prompts; That nature's great command may be obeyed, Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive Indulged in vain. Some to the holly hedge Nestling, repair, and to the thicket, some; Some to the rude protection of the thorn Commit their feeble offspring; the cleft tree Offers its kind concealment to a few, Their food its insects, and its moss their nests; Others apart, far in the grassy dale Or roughening waste their humble texture weave; But most in woodland solitudes delight, In unfrequented glooms or shaggy banks, Steep, and divided by a babbling brook, Whose murmurs soothe them all the livelong day, When by kind duty fixed. Among the roots Of hazel pendent o'er the plaintive stream, They frame the first foundation of their domes, Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid, And bound with clay together. Now 'tis nought But restless hurry through the busy air, Beat by unnumbered wings. The swallow sweeps The slimy pool, to build his hanging house Intent; and often from the careless back Of herds and flocks a thousand tugging bills Steal hair and wool; and oft when unobserved, Pluck from the barn a straw; till soft and warm, Clean and complete, their habitation grows. As thus the patient dam assiduous sits, Not to be tempted from her tender task Or by sharp hunger or by smooth delight, Though the whole loosened spring around her blows, Her sympathizing lover takes his stand High on the opponent bank, and ceaseless sings The tedious time away; or else supplies Her place a moment, while she suddenly flits To pick the scanty meal. —James Thomson.

THE GREAT BLUE HERON.

Grotesque and tall, he stands erect,

Where the reed-riffle swirls and gleams.

Grave, melancholy, circumspect—

A hermit of the streams.—Ernest McGaffey.

RRONEOUSLY called Sandhill Crane or Blue Crane, by which names it is better known than by its proper name, this bird is well known as one of the most characteristic of North America, breeding, as it does, singly and in colonies from the Arctic regions southward to the West Indies and South America. In the warmer parts of the country it breeds in vast heronries in company with other species of Herons, of which there are eleven or twelve, to which places they resort year after year. It is a common bird, except in localities far removed from streams or ponds which furnish its food supply.

This solitary and wary bird is usually seen standing in shallow water, often in mid-stream, but it requires great caution and skill on the part of the person who would observe its movements to get a view of him, as he usually first sees the intruder, and startles him by his harsh squawking cries as he flies from his feeding place.

The nests are placed in trees along rivers, usually the largest. They are bulky structures of sticks on the highest branches, a dozen or more nests sometimes being built in one tree. In localities destitute of trees the nests are built on rocks. Sycamore trees are favorite resorts of these birds, the light color of the limbs and the peculiar tint of the foliage harmonizing so well with their plumage as to render their presence difficult of detection.

The Heron's food consists of fishes, frogs, crawfish, and the like, large quantities of which must be sacrificed to appease its voracious appetite, as many as ten good-sized fishes having been disgorged at one time by a Heron that was in haste to get away, a happy provision of nature which often enables this family of birds to escape from the squirrel hunters and irresponsible gun-carriers.

The eggs of this species are plain greenish-blue and three or four in number. The young are without plumes, which develop gradually with maturity.

Dr. Neill mentions a curious instance of the Heron feeding on young Water-hens. A large old willow tree has fallen down into the pond, and at the extremity, which is partly sunk in the sludge and continues to vegetate, Water-hens breed. The old male Heron swims out to the nest and takes the young if he can. He has to swim ten or twelve feet, where the water is between two and three feet deep. His motion through the water is slow, but his carriage stately. He has been seen to fell a rat at one blow on the back of the head, when the rat was munching at his dish of fish.

While the Heron stands on the water's edge, it remains still as if carved out of rock, with its neck retracted, and its head resting between the shoulders. In this attitude its sober plumage and total stillness render it very inconspicuous, and as it prefers to stand under the shadow of a tree, bush, or bank, it cannot be seen except by a practiced eye, in spite of its large size.

The flight of the Heron is grand and stately. The head, body, and legs are held in a line, stiff and immovable, and the gently waving wings carry the bird through the air with a rapidity that seems the effect of magic.


From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.	GREAT BLUE HERON. 1⁄5 Life-size.	Copyright by Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898. Chicago.

THE GREAT BLUE HERON.

I belong to a family that is fast disappearing, simply because my plumes are pretty. The ladies must have them to trim their hats and bonnets, so the plume hunters visit our "rookeries" when our mates are on their nest, and kill hundreds and hundreds of us.

Our nests are great flat, bulky affairs, made of sticks and lined with grasses. We build them in high trees along the rivers, or way back in the swamps, a dozen or more in one tree.

We "go fishing" every day; but not for sport as you boys do. No, indeed, we must get a catch or go hungry. Our long bills are better than a hook and line, and our long legs enable us to wade in the water without getting our clothes—feathers, I mean,—wet. Fish, frogs, and crawfish make up our diet, and as we have very healthy appetites it takes a great many of them to make a meal.

Like some other birds I have more than one name. Blue Crane, Little Blue, Little Crane, Skimmer, and Scissorsbill. Some people call me "gawky." Is that a name, too?

To see us standing on one foot, by the margin of a stream, the very picture of loneliness, you would little imagine what gay birds we are just before the mating season in the spring.

In order to show off our best points before the lady-birds, off we all go to some secluded spot, form a circle or ring, in which each male bird in turn performs his showing off act. We skip, flap our wings, curve our necks, and prance around, the lady-birds expressing their approval by deep croaks, something like a bull-frog's, while the envious cocks keep up a running fire of remarks in the rasping tones of a horse-fiddle.

Each performer when his act is done, resumes his place in the circle, and so it goes on, till every male has displayed his accomplishments and good looks before the lady-birds. Then we return to our feeding grounds, and nose around in the water for our supper.

It does sound odd to hear a bird of my size talk about flying, doesn't it? But in truth my body is very light, weighing between four and five pounds. I am long from bill to tail, and my wings are very long and curving.

My legs? Oh that is a matter I dislike to talk about. They certainly speak for themselves.

A FOSTER BROTHER'S KINDNESS.

YOUNG Oriole was rescued from the water where it had evidently just fallen from the nest. When taken home it proved a ready pet and was given full freedom of the place. Some weeks later a nestling from another brood was placed in the same cage with the other. The newcomer had not yet learned to feed himself, and like a baby as it was, cried incessantly for food. The first captive though but a fledgling himself, proceeded to feed the orphan with all the tender solicitude of a parent.

"It was irresistably cunning and heartsome, too," says the narrator, W. L. Dawson, in the Bulletin, "to see the bird select with thoughtful kindness a morsel of food and hop over toward the clamoring stranger and drop it in his mouth, looking at it afterward with an air as much as to say, 'there, baby, how did you like that?' This trait was not shown by a chance exhibition, but became a regular habit, and was still followed when the older bird had attained to fly catching. It upset all ones notions about instinct and made one think of a Golden Rule for birds."

A GOOSE THAT TAKES A HEN SAILING.

The following remarkable instance of the communication of ideas among the lower animals is narrated by the Rev. C. Otway:

"At the flour mills of Tubberakeena, near Clonmel, while in the possession of the late Mr. Newbold, there was a Goose, which by some accident was left solitary, without mate or offspring, gander or goslings. Now it happened, as is common, that the miller's wife had set a number of Duck eggs under a hen, which in due time were incubated; and of course the ducklings, as soon as they came forth, ran with natural instinct to the water, and the hen was in a sad pucker—her maternity urging her to follow the brood, and her instinct disposing her to keep on dry land.

"In the meanwhile, up sailed the Goose, and with a noisy gabble, which certainly (being interpreted) meant, 'Leave them to my care,' she swam up and down with the ducklings, and when they were tired with their aquatic excursion, she consigned them to the care of the hen.

"The next morning, down came again the ducklings to the pond, and there was the Goose waiting for them, and there stood the hen in her great flustration. On this occasion we are not at all sure that the Goose invited the hen, observing her maternal trouble; but it is a fact that she being near the shore, the hen jumped on her back, and there sat, the ducklings swimming and the Goose and hen after them, up and down the pond.

"This was not a solitary event; day after day the hen was seen on board the Goose, attending the ducklings up and down, in perfect contentedness and good humor—numbers of people coming to witness the circumstance, which continued until the ducklings, coming to days of discretion, required no longer the joint guardianship of the Goose and Hen."—Witness.


From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.	EGGS. Life-size.	Copyright by Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898. Chicago.

1. Great Crested Fly-catcher.

2. King Bird.

3. Night Hawk.

4. Crow.

5. Red-headed Woodpecker.

6. Yellow-billed Cuckoo.

7. Audubon's Caracara.

8. Black-billed Magpie.

9. Kingfisher.

10. Screech Owl.

11. Turkey Vulture.

12. Gamble's Partridge.

13. Bob White.