THE OSTRICH.

OUTH AMERICAN Rhea is the name by which this immense bird is known to science. It is a native of South America, and is especially numerous along the river Plata. Usually seen in pairs, it sometimes associates in flocks of twenty or thirty, and even more have been seen together. Like all the members of the family, it is a swift-footed and wary bird, but possesses so little presence of mind that it becomes confused when threatened with danger, runs aimlessly first in one direction and then in another, thus giving time for the hunter to come up and shoot it, or bring it to the ground with his bolas—a terrible weapon, consisting of a cord with a heavy ball at each end, which is flung at the bird, and winds around its neck and legs so as to entangle it.

For our knowledge of the Rhea and its habits, we are chiefly indebted to Mr. Darwin, and we shall use his language in this account of the bird. He says it is found also in Paraguay, but is not common. The birds generally prefer running against the wind, yet, at the instant, they expand their wings and, like a vessel, make all sail. "On one fine hot day I saw several Ostriches enter a bed of tall rocks, where they squatted concealed till nearly approached."

It is not generally known that Ostriches readily take to the water. Mr. King says that at Patagonia and at Pont Valdez he saw these birds swimming several times from island to island. They ran into the water both when driven down to a point, and likewise of their own accord, when not frightened.

Natives readily distinguish, even at a distance, the male bird from the female. The former is larger and darker colored, and has a larger head. It emits a singular deep-toned hissing note. Darwin, when he first heard it, thought it was made by some wild beast. It is such a sound that one cannot tell whence it comes, nor from how far distant.

"When we were at Bahia Blanca, in the months of September and October, the eggs of the Rhea were found in extraordinary numbers all over the country. They either lie scattered singly, in which case they are never hatched, or they are collected together into a hollow excavation which forms the nest. Out of the four nests which I saw, three contained twenty-two eggs each, and the fourth twenty-seven. The Gauchos unanimously affirm, and there is no reason to doubt their statement, that the male bird alone hatches the eggs, and that he for some time afterward, accompanies the young. The cock while in the nest lies very close; I have myself almost ridden over one. It is asserted that at such times they are occasionally fierce, and even dangerous, and that they have been known to attack a man on horseback, trying to kick and leap on him."

The skylight in the roof of the apartment in which two Ostriches were kept in the Garden of Plants, Paris, having been broken, the glaziers were sent to repair it, and in the course of their work let fall a piece of glass. Not long after this the female Ostrich was taken ill, and died after an hour or two in great agony. The body was opened, and the throat and stomach were, found to have been dreadfully cut by the sharp corners of the glass which she had swallowed. From the moment his companion died the male bird had no rest; he appeared to be continually searching for something, and daily wasted away. He was removed from the spot, in the hope that he would forget his grief; he was even allowed more liberty, but in vain, and at length he mourned himself to death.

THE SOUTH AMERICAN RHEA.

I need'nt tell you I'm an Ostrich, for my picture speaks for itself. I'm a native of South America, but members of my family have been caught and taken to the United States, so you have seen some of them, probably, in a "Zoo."

We are swift-footed and wary birds, but unfortunately have no presence of mind, so that when danger threatens us we become confused, run this way and that way, till the hunter comes up and with gun or "bolas" brings us to the ground.

If your legs and neck were as long as mine, and an Indian should fling around you a cord with a ball at each end and get your legs all tangled up, wouldn't you tumble to the ground, too? Of course you would. That is the way they catch us with a "bolas."

I think we ought to be called "ship of the desert" as well as the camel, for when the wind blows, we expand our great wings, and running against it, like a vessel under full sail, go skimming along, happy as a bird, in truth.

You can never see us do that unless you come to South America. In captivity we act differently, you know. Maybe you have seen us, when in an inclosure, holding our wings from our bodies and running up and down as though we were being chased, appearing greatly alarmed. Well, that is all fun. We have to do something to while the time away. Then, too, that is as near as we can come to "sailing" as we did when wild and free.

You have heard so much about the mother-bird sitting on the nest, that I am sure you will be interested in seeing a father who broods the eggs and hatches out the little ones. I have five wives. They all lay their eggs in one and the same nest, which is a hollow pit scraped out by their feet, the earth heaped up around to form a sort of wall. They lay the eggs, I have said, sometimes thirty in a nest, and I—well, I do the rest.

We are dangerous fellows if disturbed when brooding; have been known to attack a man on horseback, trying to kick and leap on him. Our kick is no love-tap, let me tell you, but being so powerful we can easily kill a man.

When startled, or angry, we utter a kind of grunt as a warning; if it is not heeded, we then hiss sharply, draw back our head, and get ready to strike.


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

THE BAY-BREASTED WARBLER.

BOUT sixty species of Warblers are known to ornithologists, no one of which can be considered a great singer, but their several twitterings have a small family resemblance. The Bay-breasted, which is also popularly called Autumnal Warbler, breeds from northern New England and northern Michigan northward, its nest being found in low, swampy woods, where there is a mixture of evergreens, oak, birch, elm and other trees. It is compact, cup-shaped, and usually placed in coniferous trees from five to fifteen or even twenty feet above the ground. Fine shreds of bark, small twigs, fibrous roots, and pine hair are used in its construction. Four eggs are laid, which are white, with a bluish tinge, finely speckled on or round the larger end with reddish-brown.

Comparatively little is known of the habits of this species. It passes in spring and fall, on its way to the north, being sometimes abundant at both seasons, but does not tarry long. In general habits, at all times, it closely resembles other species of the genus. In Oxford County, Maine, says Mr. Maynard, these birds are found in all the wooded sections of that region, where they frequent the tops of tall trees. The species seems to be confined during the building season to the region just north of the White Mountains range.

Ridgway says: "Tanagers are splendid; Humming-birds are refulgent; other kinds are brilliant, gaudy or magnificent, but Warblers alone are pretty in the proper and full sense of that term. When the apple trees bloom, the Warblers revel among the flowers, vieing in activity and in number with the bees; now probing the recesses of a blossom for an insect which has effected lodgment there, then darting to another, where, poised daintily upon a slender twig, or suspended from it, he explores hastily but carefully for another morsel. Every movement is the personification of nervous activity, as if the time for their journey was short; and, indeed, such appears to be the case, for two or three days at most suffice some species in a single locality; a day spent in gleaning through the woods and orchards of one neighborhood, with occasional brief siestas among the leafy bowers, then the following night in continuous flight toward its northern destination, is probably the history of every individual of the moving throng."

"Have you walked beneath the blossoms in the spring?

In the spring?

Beneath the apple blossoms in the spring?

When the pink cascades are falling,

And the silver brooklets bawling,

And the Warbler bird soft calling,

In the spring?"

BIRD SUPERSTITIONS AND WINGED PORTENTS.

HE superstitions of the peasant folk of any country are not only interesting with thought, feeling, and belief, says an intelligent writer, but through them much of the inner history of a people can often be traced. Ireland is peculiarly rich in these forgivable vagaries about birds. They often seem of a very savage and grewsome character, but as we come to know that however grim-visaged the face of one confiding the weird assertion of uncanny belief, that secretly the masses of the peasantry scout and flout them all, save those of a tender and winsome character, we become reconciled to it. Thus the quaint and weird things which might seem unaccountable and often repulsive to us, have become, in lieu of book lore, a folk and fireside lore, out of which endless entertainment is secured; and underneath much of this there is a deep and earnest tenderness, such as all hearts know, for many things without apparent reason, that grow into life and ancestry, oft repeated homeside tale, beloved custom and that mysterious hallowing which comes upon changeless places and objects to men.

Here are a few bird superstitions: If an Osprey be shot along any coast, all the herring and mackerel will immediately disappear. If the Hen-harrier, which only hunts by twilight, is missed from its accustomed raptorial haunt, some evil spirit is said to be hovering about the locality. When Water-ousels appear in the spring time in unusual numbers in any unfrequented locality, it is a sign of abundance of fresh-water fish, but also a token of the approach of malignant disease. On the west coast in the early spring the poor fisherman watches early and late for the Gannet. He calls it the Solan, or Swift-flying Goose. If it does not come his heart sinks, for there will be no luck at fishing; but if great numbers wheel about the headlands of the coast, plenty will smile in his cabin home that year. Great numbers of Jay or Missel Thrushes feeding upon the berries of the hawthorn betoken the approach of a very cold winter, and their Grackle-like calls bring fear to the heart if the meal be low and the peat be scant in the little tenants cabin. When the nest of the Thrush or Mavis is built unusually high in the thorn-bush, this betokens a great calamity to a neighborhood, for some distressing disturbance is under way among the fairies, who in happy or friendly mood always see to it that these nests are built near their haunts in the grasses, that they may more readily enjoy the music of the thrush's songs. The crops of sweet singing Blackbirds are supposed to hold the souls of those in purgatory until the judgment day; and whenever the Blackbird's notes are particularly shrill, these parched and burning souls are imploring for rain, which never fails of coming in response to the bird cries for their relief. The Wicklow mountains are notably the haunts of the Ring-Ousel or Mountain Stars. Whenever, after singing his fine deep song, he hesitates for a time, and then is heard to utter a loud, shrill and prolonged whistle, that night every human that has heard it will remain behind barred doors; for that is a true fairy call, and the "wea folk of Wicklow" are sure to congregate in the mooonlit mountain hollows and "dance rings round their swate selves" until dawn. Of course none of these dire calamities ever occur, but the simple-minded folk continue to have faith in them, and the innocent birds remain the supposed precursors of the, to them, mysterious misinterpreted operations of nature.


From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.	BLACK-NECKED STILT. ½ Life-size.	Copyright by Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898. Chicago.

THE BLACK-NECKED STILT.

TILT would be a peculiarly appropriate name for this bird, with its excessively long legs, were it less graceful and dignified in its walk, moving on land with easy and measured tread, not in a "tremulous manner," says Col. Goss, as stated by some writers.

The Stilt is an inhabitant of temperate North America, from New Brunswick, Maine, Minnesota and Oregon southward; south in winter to Peru, Brazil, and West Indies. It is rare in the middle and western provinces, except Florida, also along the Pacific coast; breeding in suitable localities and in abundance in western Texas, southern Colorado, Utah, eastern Colorado, and southern Oregon. Extensive as is the range of the Stilt, we wonder how many of our readers have ever had the pleasure of seeing even a picture of one. The specimen depicted in Birds is regarded by experts as about as nearly perfect as art can produce. It will be observed that the eyes are alive in expression, as, indeed, are those of all our specimens that have appeared in recent numbers.

This slender wader inhabits the shores of bays, ponds, and swales where scantily covered with short grasses. It swims buoyantly and gracefully, and on land runs swiftly, with partially raised wings, readily tacking or stopping in its chase after insect life. Its flight, says Goss, is not very swift, but strong and steady, with sweeping strokes, legs fully extended and head partially drawn back, after the manner of the Avocet, (see Birds, Vol. II, p. 15), and like the latter, will often meet one a long distance from its nest, scolding and threatening. At such times its legs are as fully extended as its legs, the latter often dangling as it retreats.

The food of the Black-necked Stilt consists of insects, minute shell fish and larvae, and various small forms of life. The birds are social, usually living and breeding in small flocks.

The nests of these birds—when placed on dry, sandy land—are slight depressions worked out to fit the body; on wet lands they are upon bunches or masses of vegetation. Eggs three or four, buff to brownish-olive, irregularly but rather thickly splashed and spotted with blackish brown.

THE ENGLISH SPARROW.

When the English Sparrow (see Birds, Vol. II, p. 208), was first introduced into Canada, we are informed by Mr. Albert Webber, the city of Hamilton provided for its protection by causing to be erected a large iron pole, on which was set a huge box containing many apartments, the pole surrounded by a circular iron railing. Each day during the winter a sheaf of oats was attached to the pole. In a year or two the Sparrows became so numerous that the authorities were obliged to abandon the project of contributing to the support of the birds and left them to shift for themselves. They soon found, however, that the little foreigners were quite independent of the city fathers.

Indefatigable, persistent, industrious breeders—at once rebuilding their nests, if destroyed by accident or otherwise—there is little hope of their extermination, if such action should be desired in the future. Mr. Thomas Goodearl, an observer of these birds in their nativity, predicts that the English Sparrow will be the survivor—though not the fittest—of all English birds.

C. C. M.

THE PIN-TAIL DUCK.

It was my cousin the Teal who said he was not born to sing and look pretty flitting among the trees, but was a useful bird, born to be "done brown" and look pretty in a dish. Well, I am one of that kind, too.

Pin-tail, Sprig-tail, Sharp-tail, Water Pheasant. I am known by all of these names, though people only use one at a time, I believe.

You will find us Pin-tails generally in fresh water. We move in very large flocks, in company with our cousins the Mallards, feeding and traveling with them for days. But when it comes to flying we distance them everytime. Our flight is rapid and graceful, the most graceful, they say, of all the Duck tribe.

Instead of a song we have a call note, a low plaintive whistle which we repeat two or three times. It is easily imitated, and often, thinking a companion calls us, we swim in the direction of the sound, when "bang" goes a gun and over flops one or more Pin-tails.

We have other enemies beside man, and have to keep a sharp lookout all the time. Way up north one day, a Fox stood on the borders of a lake and watched a flock of Ducks feeding among the rushes. He was very hungry and the sight of them made his mouth water.

"How can I get one of those fine, fat fellows for my dinner," he muttered, and Mr. Fox, who is very cunning, you know, remained very quiet, while he thought, and thought, and thought.

"Oh, I have it!" he presently exclaimed, and going to the windward of the Ducks, set afloat a lot of dead rushes or grass, which drifted among the flock, causing no alarm or suspicion whatever.

Then Mr. Fox, taking a bunch of grass in his mouth, slipped into the lake, and with nothing but the tips of his ears and nose above the water, drifted down among the rushes and the Ducks, too.

Such a squawking as there was, when Mr. Fox opened his red mouth, seized the largest of the flock, and with a chuckle put back for the shore.

"Hm!" said he, after enjoying his dinner, "what stupid things Ducks are to be sure."

A mean trick, wasn't it? Nobody but a Fox—or a man—would have thought of such a thing. I'd rather be an innocent Duck than either of them though my name is Pin-tail. Wouldn't you?


From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.	PIN-TAIL DUCK. ⅓ Life-size.	Copyright by Nature Study Pub. Co., 1898. Chicago.