A Hermit's Wild Friends; or, Eighteen Years in the Woods

by Mason Augustus Walton

However, the whole thing is mere speculation, and it is not worth while to follow it further.

A few years ago a cowbird laid an egg in a chewink's nest. The chewink visited my dooryard. I did not remove the egg, but watched for the cowbird. Before the egg was hatched I shot the mother. I wanted to see if a young cowbird, reared without his own mother, would go out to the cow-pasture where there was a flock of old cowbirds. The chewinks reared the cowbird and three of their own babies. This was the first brood. When the mother chewink made a new nest, the father took care of the four little ones. Before his mate hatched the second brood, he took his charge to a bird resort near a pond. This was near the cow-pasture, and the flock of cowbirds resorted to the pond for water. It gave the young cowbird a good chance to go with its kind. Several times I saw cowbirds approach the youngster, but he always fled as if he thought that his life was in danger. He acted just as young tame crows do when they see other crows near them. That fall all the chewinks, that is, the old ones and the first brood, with the cowbird, remained about the dooryard until migration. The second brood of chewinks was destroyed by a snake, after which the first family was brought back. The next spring the cowbird did not return with the chewinks. As a matter of fact, only two of the five chewinks returned. I suppose the others were killed in the rice-fields. I had wired the cowbird with copper wire, so looked for him in the different flocks in my locality. He was not to be found, and was probably shot because he was with the chewinks in the rice-fields.

Two years ago I found a cowbird's egg in the nest of a Maryland yellowthroat. This nest was under a tussock of cut grass, just over a stone wall that enclosed the cow-pasture. As usual, it was the first nest of the Maryland yellowthroats. The young birds, three besides the cowbird, were crowded out of the nest, but as luck would have it they fell into a cavity on one side of the nest, and 'were fed by the parents. I saw the mother cowbird feed her baby before he was out of the nest, and when he could hop about, his mother led him to the cow-pasture. Afterward I saw her carry flies from the cows to her baby, which was in the bushes near the wall. I think the Maryland yellowthroats covered their own little ones from the night air. Perhaps one of them protected the cowbird. I did not see the foster-parents feed the young cowbird after he was able to leave the nest. I watched one morning for two hours, and saw the birds make many trips with insects, which they fed to their own birds. The cowbird was near at hand, over the wall, but the birds did not go near him.

From my observations I am convinced that the cowbird does not desert its offspring, but; instead, keeps an eye to its welfare, and ends by assuming the whole care of its food, and leads it to associate with its kind after it is large, or old enough to fly.

I have a little bird friend, a chestnut-sided warbler, that nests near my cabin. Three springs running I found a cowbird's egg in my little friend's nest. The first two eggs I threw out, but the third year I thought to try an experiment, the same that was afterward tried on the chewinks, and shot the mother cowbird. The cowbird was out of the shell before the other eggs had hatched. There were three eggs in the nest, and the young cowbird managed to break them. The chestnut-sided warblers had begun to feed the alien, but when they found the broken eggs, they deserted the nest and left the young cowbird to starve. They made a new nest not over three rods from the old one. I was sorry that I had shot the mother cowbird. It would have proved whether a cowbird would leave her offspring to starve, if deserted by the foster-parents.

I have mentioned putting copper wire on the young cowbird's leg. This artifice was used on other birds as well. I could easily identify my birds when they returned in migration. I put two turns of wire around a young robin's leg one spring. This robin was brought up by catbirds, with my assistance. I had removed a catbird's egg to a robin's nest, and a robin's egg to a catbird's nest. The crows destroyed the robin's nest, but the catbirds reared their family. The young robin proved to be a male. He associated with the catbirds, and went South with them. He returned in the spring with the male catbirds. The females and young returned together about a week later. The young robin remained about the cabin and the little brook where the catbirds nested until the last of June. He had a favorite tree, an oak, where he would perch in the morning and attempt to sing. His song was made up from that of the robin and catbird. A curious medley. The last of June I missed the bird, and looked for him in his favorite oak. I found his body lodged in a small hemlock beneath the oak. He had been shot while singing in his favorite tree.