The Live Oak, Quercus virens, Willd. Sp. Pl. vol. iv. p. 425. Pursh, Fl. Amer. Sept. vol. ii. p. 626.—Monœcia Polyandria, Linn. Amentaceæ, Juss.
The Live Oak has already been spoken of in the article entitled "The Live-Oakers" ([p. 236]). When left growing detached and free from all other forest trees, it attains a great size, spreading out its large arms to the distance sometimes of twenty yards, but seldom reaching to a proportionate height. Splendid avenues of this valuable tree are frequently seen in Georgia, South Carolina, and many of the sea islands, leading to the planters' houses. A few miles below New Orleans are some, probably centuries old, which are the finest I have seen. I have not observed this tree far above the city of Natchez on the Mississippi, nor farther eastward than the central maritime parts of North Carolina. It prefers flat rich soils, and is rarely found at any great distance from rivers or the sea-shore. The leaves are evergreen, leathery, oblong-elliptical, obtuse at the base, acute at the tip, with the edges revolute, and the lower surface downy; the cupule is turbinate, with short scales; the acorn oblong, sweet, and to the taste of some equal to the hazel-nut.
THE TREE SPARROW.
Fringilla canadensis, Lath.
PLATE CLXXXVIII. Male and Female.
This species seldom if ever resorts to the Southern States during winter, and to the westward of the Alleghany mountains scarcely proceeds farther down the Ohio than the neighbourhood of Louisville in Kentucky; so that it may be considered as quite a northern bird. It reaches Massachusetts at the approach of winter, and is more frequent in the maritime districts of that State than in the interior, where, however, it is met with in considerable numbers. In the beginning of October, if the weather be cold, the Tree Sparrow is seen among the magnificent elm trees that ornament the beautiful city of Boston and its neighbouring villages; and, like the hardy, industrious, and enterprising people among whom it seems to spend the severe season by choice, it makes strenuous efforts to supply itself with the means of subsistence. Many remove as far south as Pennsylvania, and even Maryland; but I never observed one in either of the Carolinas. Their return to the north is marked by a lingering disposition to wait each day for a finer and warmer morrow. They appear, indeed, so perfectly aware of the danger to be encountered during a forced march in the early spring, that on the least change from mild weather to cold, they immediately return to their loved winter quarters. By the middle of May, however, they have begun to move regularly, and their songs announce the milder season at every resting place at which they tarry.
The Tree Sparrow sings sweetly during the love season. I have frequently listened to their musical festivals near Eastport, in the State of Maine, while gazing upon them with an ardent desire to follow them in their progress northward. Twenty or more, perched on the same tree, often delighted me with their choruses, now and then varied with the still clearer notes of one or two White-throated Finches, that, like leaders of an orchestra, seemed to mark time for the woodland choristers. Toward the close of the day their single notes were often repeated, and sounded like those of a retreat. They seemed to hop and dance about among the branches, mixing with the "White-throats," and enjoying a general conversation, when the pipings of two or three frogs would suspend their entertainment. At early dawn they were all on the alert, and if the rising sun announced a fine day, group after group would ascend in the air, and, with joyful feelings, immediately proceed towards their breeding-places in the distant north.
I followed them as far as the Magdeleine Isles, saw some in Newfoundland, and all the countries between it and Maine, but did not find a single individual in Labrador. On the islands above mentioned I saw them arriving in flocks of from five to a dozen, flying widely apart. They dived towards the ground, and at once threw themselves among the thickest coverts of the tangled groves, where, although I could hear their single chip, I could seldom see them afterwards. Their flight is more elegant and elevated than that of most of our Sparrows, and they pass through the air in rapid undulations, more regular and continued than those of any other bird of the genus, except the Fox-coloured Sparrow.
On opening several of these birds, I found their stomach to contain very minute shell-fish, the remains of coleopterous insects, some hard seeds, small berries, and grains of sand.
Many of the Tree Sparrows breed in New Brunswick, in Nova Scotia, and, I have reasons for believing, in the northern portions of the State of Maine. A nest given me by Professor MacCulloch, had been found a few feet from the ground, on the horizontal branch of a fir tree, not far from the stem. It was principally formed of rough grass, and lined with fibrous roots, hairs of various quadrupeds, and some from the horse. It contained five eggs, of a uniform deep blue, so closely resembling those of the Common Chipping Sparrow, that, had they not been much larger, I might have concluded them to be those of that bird. I suspect that, in a country where the summer is so short, the Tree Sparrow seldom if ever breeds more than once in the season.
When we returned to the United States late in August, the Tree Sparrows with their young were already moving southward. A mere intimation of the rich chestnut colour of the head of the adult in summer was seen. They had already tuned their pipes, which sounded in my ear as their affectionate farewell to a country, where these sweet little creatures had met with all of happiness that their nature could desire.