A world of green hills

by Bradford Torrey

If the forenoon had been indolent, the noonday hour was more so. I descended the hill by a way different from any I had yet taken, and found myself at the foot in a public road running through a cultivated valley. The day was peculiarly comfortable, with a bright sun and a temperate breeze,—ideal weather for such inactivities as I was engaged in. Coming to an old cherry-tree, I rested awhile in its shadow. A farmhouse was not far off, with apple-trees before it, a barn across the way, and two or three men at work in the sloping ploughed field beyond. To one as lazy as I then was, it is almost a luxury to see other men hoeing or ploughing, so they be far enough off to become a part of the landscape. Near the barn stood a venerable weeping willow, huge of girth, a very patriarch, yet still green as youth itself. Here were good farm-loving birds, a pleasant society. A pair of house wrens came at once to look at the stranger, and one of them interested me by dusting itself in the road.

Two kingbirds were about the apple-trees (apple-tree flycatchers would be my name for them, if a name were in order), now sitting quiet for a brief space, now scaling the heavens, as if to see how nearly perpendicular a bird’s flight could be made, and then tumbling about ecstatically with rapid vociferations, after the half-crazy manner of their kind. The kingbird is plentifully endowed not only with spirit, but with spirits. A goldfinch sang and twittered in the softest voice, and a catbird mewed. From a quince bush, a little farther off, a wild bobolinkian strain was repeated again and again,—an orchard oriole, I thought most likely. I went nearer (to the shade of a low cedar), and soon had him in sight,—a young male in yellow plumage, with a black throat-patch. The song was extremely taking, and the more I heard it, the more it seemed to have the true bobolink ring. The quince bushes were in pale pink bloom, and the branches of a tall snowball-tree in the unfenced front yard of the house fairly drooped under their load of white globular clusters. Just opposite was a sweet-brier bush, “the pastoral eglantine,” half dead like others that I had noticed here, and like the whole tribe of its New England brothers and sisters. Here as in Massachusetts a blight was upon them; they were living with difficulty. It would be good, I thought, to see the sweet-brier once where it flourishes; where the beauty of the plant matches the beauty and sweetness of the rose it bears. Can it be that it is not quite hardy even in Virginia?

My seat under the snowball-tree (to the coolness of which I had moved from under the cedar) had presently to be given up. The women of the house became aware of me, and out of a bashful regard for my own comfort I took the road again. Soon I passed a double house, with painted doors and two-sash windows! And in one of the windows were lace curtains! It was wonderful,—I was obliged to confess it, in spite of a deep-seated masculine prejudice against all such contrivances,—it was wonderful what an air of elegance they conferred, though the paint of the doors was to be considered, of course, in the same connection.

By this time the road was approaching the slope of Buck Hill, and high noon as it was, I must run up for another half-hour among the old trees at the top,—with no special result except to disturb a summer tanager, who fired off volley after volley of objurgatory expletives, and altogether seemed to be in a terrible state of mind. His excitement was all for nothing; unless—what was likely enough—it served to give him favor in the eyes of his mate, who may be presumed to have been somewhere within hearing. Lovers, I believe, are supposed to welcome an opportunity to play the hero.

My last afternoon at the Bridge was devoted to a longish tramp into a new piece of country, where for an hour I had hopes of adding at least a name or two to my Virginia bird list, which for twenty-four hours had been at a standstill. I came unexpectedly upon a mill, and what was of greater account, a millpond,—“a long, dirty pond,” as my uncivil pencil describes it. Here were swallows, as might have been foreseen, but the most careful scrutiny revealed nothing beyond the two species already catalogued,—the barn swallow and the rough-wing. Here, too, in an apple orchard, were a Baltimore oriole gathering straws, a phœbe, a golden warbler, and several warbling vireos, the only ones so far noticed with the exception of a single bird at Pulaski. About the border of the pond were spotted sandpipers (no solitaries, to my disappointment) and two male song sparrows. This last species I saw but twice in Virginia,—along the bushy shore of the creek at Pulaski, and here beside this millpond. Wherever the song sparrow is scarce, it is likely to be restricted to the immediate neighborhood of water. Even in Massachusetts it is pretty evident that such places are its first choice. As I sometimes say, the song sparrow likes a swamp as well as the swamp sparrow; but the species being so exceedingly abundant, there are not swampy spots enough to go round, and the majority of the birds have to shift as they can, along bushy fence-rows and in pastures and scrub-lands.

The building interested me almost as much as the sandpipers and the sparrows. It was painted red, and served not only as a mill, but as a post-office (“Red Mills”) and a “department store,” with its sign, “Dry Goods, Groceries, &c.” A tablet informed the passer-by that the mill had been “established” in 1798, destroyed in 1881, and reopened in 1891; and on the same tablet, or another, was the motto, “Laborare est orare.” I regretted not to meet the proprietor, but he was nowhere in sight, and I felt a scruple about intruding upon the time of a man who was at once postmaster, miller, farmer, storekeeper, and scholar. With that motto before me,—“Apologia pro vita sua,” he might have called it,—such an intrusion would have seemed a sacrilege.

What I remember best about the whole establishment is the song of a blue-gray gnatcatcher, to which I stopped to listen under a low savin-tree on a bluff above the mill. He was directly over my head, singing somewhat in the manner of a catbird, but I had almost to hold my breath to hear him. It was amazing that a bird’s voice could be spun so fine. A mere shadow of a sound, I was ready to say. It was only by the happiest accident that I did not miss it altogether. Then, when the fellow had finished his music, he began squeaking in that peculiarly teasing manner of his, and kept it up till I was weary. The gnatcatcher is a creature by himself, a miniature bird, wonderfully slender, with a strangely long tail, which he carries jauntily and makes the most of on all occasions. But if he only knew it, his chief claim to distinction is his singing voice. If the humming-bird’s is attenuated in the same proportion (and who can assert the contrary?), he may be the finest vocalist in the world, and we none the wiser.

I was to start northward by the next noonday train, and had already laid out my forenoon’s work. Before breakfast I took my last look at the famous bridge, and my last stroll through Cedar Creek ravine. I had been there every day, I think, and had always found something new. This time it was a slippery-elm-tree by the saltpetre cave. I had brought away a twig, and was sitting in my door putting a lens upon it and upon a sedum specimen, when the veranda was suddenly taken possession of by a dozen or more of young men. They were just up from the railway station, and were deep in a discussion of ways and means,—tickets, luncheons, and time-tables. Then, in a momentary lull in the talk, I heard a quiet voice say, “Sedum.” They were a company of Johns Hopkins men out upon a geological trip. So I learned at noon when we met at the railway station; and a pleasant botanical hour I had with one or two of them as we rode northward. Now, on the piazza, they did not tarry long; time was precious to them also; and as soon as they had gone down to the bridge I set off in the opposite direction. My final ramble was to be to Lincoln Heights, to see once more that magnificent avenue of trees and that beautiful mountain prospect. The cerulean warbler was singing as usual, but there was no sign of his mate, though I could not do less than to wait a little while by the grapevine thicket in a vain hope of her appearance. Here, as in the ravine, I had not yet seen everything. Straight before me stood a locust tree, every branch hung with long, fragrant white clusters. I had overlooked it completely till now. If I learned nothing else in Virginia, I ought to have learned something about my limitations as an “observer.” But I need not have traveled so far for such a purpose. Wisdom so common as that may be picked up any day in a man’s own dooryard.

INDEX

Anemone, [153], [216].
Arbor-vitæ, [217].
Arbutus, trailing, [133], [148], [153], [158], [205].
Asplenium Ruta-muraria, [227].
Azalea:—
arborescens, [138].
calendulacea, [138].
nudiflora, [137], [206].
vaseyi, [137].
viscosa, [138].
Barren strawberry, [153], [178].
Blackbird:—
crow, [202].
red-winged, [123].
Bladder-nut, [216].
Bloodroot, [153], [160], [178], [216].
Bluebird, [125], [266].
Blue-eyed grass, [244].
Bobolink, [208].
Box turtle, [248].
Butterflies, [218].
Buzzard, turkey, [126], [132], [159], [271].
Cancer-root, [260].
Carolina hemlock, [93].
Catbird, [51], [173], [198], [275].
Catchfly, scarlet, [244].
Chat, [5], [126], [203], [239], [247], [257].
Checkerberry, [133].
Cheilanthes vestita, [229].
Chewink, [132], [159].
Chickadee, Carolina, [126], [148], [184], [196], [239].
Chinaberry-tree, [8].
Chokeberry, [132].
Clintonia, white-flowered, [46].
Columbine, [214], [218].
Cowslip, [264].
Crab-apple tree, [50].
Cranesbill, [216].
Creeper:—
black-and-white, [148], [155], [196], [264].
brown, [41], [74], [78], [126].
Crossbill, red, [159], [180], [249], [272].
Cuckoo, [273].
Cystopteris bulbifera, [228].
Deerberry, [273].
Dogwood, flowering, [208], [257].
Dove:—
Carolina, [196], [273].
ground, [273].
Draba, ramosissima, [214].
Finch, purple, [230].
Fish-hawk, [209].
Flycatcher:—
Acadian, [125], [239].
least, [45].
olive-sided, [41], [94], [126].
Fringed polygala, [160].
Galax, [134], [154].
Gaylussacia ursina, [133].
Ginger, wild, [216].
Gnatcatcher, blue-gray, [21], [23], [231], [269], [279].
Goldfinch, [132], [211], [230], [275].
Grackle, bronzed, [202].
Grosbeak:—
blue, [249].
cardinal, [125], [224], [272].
rose-breasted, [51], [119], [128], [132], [180], [187], [258].
Grouse, ruffed, [155], [159], [267].
Halesia-tree, [38], [50].
Hepatica, [153], [160], [178], [216].
Houstonia, [153].
Huckleberry, [132].
Humming-bird, [23], [203], [235], [241], [268], [280].
Indigo-bird, [231], [255].
Iris, vernal, [134], [160], [205], [266].
Judas-tree, [146], [208], [257].
Killdeer, [199].
Kingbird, [275].
Kingfisher, [49], [208].
Lady’s-slipper, yellow, [46].
Laurel, mountain, [140].
Lungwort, [172].
Magnolia Fraseri, [93].
Mandrake, [216].
Maryland yellow-throat, [122], [209].
Mitrewort, [178], [216].
Night-hawk, [231], [271].
Nuthatch:—
red-breasted (Canadian), [40], [126], [159].
white-breasted, [196], [239].
Orchis spectabilis, [216].
Oriole:—
Baltimore, [124], [202], [278].
orchard, [275].
Osprey, [209].
Oven-bird, [132], [157], [195], [196], [223], [230].
Painted-cup, [94], [134].
Pellæa atropurpurea, [227].
Pewee, wood, [203], [239].
Phalarope, Wilson’s, [95].
Phœbe, [75], [123], [224], [230], [278].
Potentilla tridentata, [133].
Ragwort, [216].
Raven, [22], [68].
Redstart, [240].
Rhododendron:—
Catawbiense, [137], [141].
maximum, [137].
punctatum, [136].
Robin, [51], [198].
Rose acacia, [134].
Sand myrtle, [134].
Sandpiper:—
solitary, [72].
spotted, [73], [199], [278].
Shadbush, [153], [160].
Shortia galacifolia, [93].
Snowbird, Carolina, [78], [115], [126], [132].
Sparrow:—
chipping, [148], [230].
field, [132], [148], [159], [205].
lark, [190].
song, [128], [199], [278].
white-throated, [30], [157], [196], [239], [255].
Spring beauty, [216].
Stone-crop, [216].
Sumach, fragrant, [260].
Swallow:—
barn, [74], [75], [201], [278].
rough-winged, [32], [75], [201], [218], [278].
Sweetbrier (Eglantine), [67], [276].
Swift, chimney, [132], [145], [201], [230].
Tanager:—
scarlet, [132], [203].
summer, [23], [231], [240], [277].
Thrasher, brown, [30], [51], [126], [148], [196], [198].
Thrush:—
Louisiana water, [66], [126], [203], [219], [230].
olive-backed (Swainson), [23], [240], [247], [253], [267].
wood, [51], [247].
Trillium:—
grandiflorum, [215].
stylosum, [56].
Tufted titmouse, [126], [196], [223].
Tulip-tree, [160], [166], [217].
Violets, [133], [160], [161], [162], [166], [177], [214].
Vireo:—
mountain solitary, [118].
red-eyed, [119], [195], [223], [230], [255].
warbling, [202], [278].
white-eyed, [127].
yellow-throated, [196], [230], [255].
Walking fern, [217].
Warbler:—
Blackburnian, [126], [128], [195], [240], [255].
blackpoll, [127], [196].
black-throated blue, [121], [126], [180], [240], [254], [255].
black-throated green, [23], [195], [255].
blue yellow-backed (parula), [45], [123], [195], [223], [230], [248], [258], [265].
Canadian, [121], [126], [240].
Cape May, [261].
cerulean, [236], [251], [255], [258], [265], [267], [268], [271], [281].
chestnut-sided, [126], [132], [195], [196], [255].
golden-winged, [21], [51], [126], [193], [195].
hooded, [125], [155], [254].
Kentucky, [125], [127], [156].
magnolia, [235], [263].
myrtle, [127], [195], [196], [255].
Nashville, [269].
pine, [23], [195].
prairie, [23], [127], [206], [230], [266].
redpoll, [195].
summer yellow (golden), [127], [195], [278].
worm-eating, [178], [195].
Whippoorwill, [5], [59], [231], [247].
Woodpecker:—
downy, [196].
hairy, [241].
golden-winged, [159], [196].
pileated, [32], [48], [180], [246], [250].
red-headed, [241].
yellow-bellied, [180].
Wren:—
Bewick, [126], [148], [198], [202].
Carolina, [126], [231].
house, [150], [198], [203], [275].
winter, [155], [198].
Xanthorrhiza, [189].