Rambles with John Burroughs

by R. J. H. De Loach

Usually when I find a bird's nest in a conspicuous place, I have a peculiar feeling that the bird has not chosen wisely, but I suspect that most birds that are on good terms with man, choose to brave his presence rather than risk themselves further away from man, and out where birds of prey and animals dangerous to them, are accustomed to go. They seem to think that man will do to trust, while they know that Nature knows no other law but struggle and destruction.

The little nest about which I am now to tell was in an old decayed fencepost about three feet from the ground on the south side of the lane that leads down through the pasture and to the lake beyond. It was easily accessible to all that passed along the lane, and besides, the chickadee is so motherly in her habits and so innocent of all that is going on about her, that one can see her on the post or even in the door of the little house almost any time. The interest I had taken in the nest, caused me to frighten her away many times as I passed down the lane on my morning and afternoon walks. I thought that I would by this means train her to be a little more cautious, but she seemed to take my warning as a joke and finally became so gentle that I could almost put my hand on her.

When I knew that many of the day laborers had discovered my nest and had become somewhat curious about it, I began to entertain grave doubts as to whether the brood would ever come off. For very few people have a real love for birds and bird-life, and most people rather delight to tell of their brutality to the bird kingdom, when they were smaller. Many times have I sat and listened to men tell of how many bird nests they broke up when they were boys, and they seemed to think that a boy could spend his time no better. Some of my neighbors have large collections of birds' eggs that were taken in this spirit, and I think they belong to that class of 'Oologists,' spoken of by Burroughs as the worst enemies of our birds, 'who plunder nests and murder their owners in the name of science.'

While I was out one morning for my usual walk, my attention was attracted by an unusually joyful song, "Chickadee-Dee, Chickadee-Dee," in rapid succession, a little softer and sweeter than I had heard from my black cap this season, and I decided to see if there was not some love-making going on. As Seton-Thompson says, I 'froze' for a few moments and saw what it all meant. The mother bird was building her nest in the post to which I have already referred. The male bird did not appear till three days after, but how interested he was when he did come upon the scene. When these little birds decided to neighbor with me my heart rejoiced, for I had often during the winter seen the vacant home and wondered if it would be occupied in the summer, and if so by whom. As soon as I knew that my chickadees were really to stay I thought to myself: Well I shall have one good neighbor at least. On the morning of the 26th of April, I looked into the nest to see what progress was being made with the new home, and found the female bird on, but she made no attempt to fly away. I went away whistling and at the same time thinking that I should soon see some fledgelings with open mouths for food, and that I would in all probability, have the pleasure of giving them a morsel occasionally. To aid the mother in this way helps to get in sympathy with bird life. For then we feel that we have become partly responsible for their health and daily bread. I had often aided mother birds in feeding their young, though I do not remember to have rendered such service to chickadees. I have, however, known for a long time that chickadees are noted for their gentleness and fearlessness. When they meet honesty they are always ready to make friends and will cheer you with their little familiar ditty, but they seem to divine evil, and will get on the other side of the tree from the boy that carries a sling-shot. Nature seems to have taught them what and whom to fear.

POINTING OUT THE JUNCO'S NEST BY A MOUNTAIN ROADSIDE

I shall never forget how provoked I was, when I passed down the lane on Monday morning, May 4th, and found that some vandal had been there and robbed and partially destroyed the nest on Sunday, the day before. I was cross all day and could not collect myself. Everything in my office went wrong and what little work I did that day had to be done over later. This little nest had meant a great deal to me, and the most interesting stage of its development had not yet been reached. If it had been any other nest probably it would not have affected me so seriously or grieved me so much, but this little family had, in a measure, become a part of my own family, and I had a most tender feeling for it. The poor mother bird I saw in some small oaks not far from the wrecked home and I watched her for a long time, that I might see just what emotions she would express to me. The sadness of her song chickadee-dee, chickadee-dee, was evident, but she uttered these words in rapid succession. The following seemed to be her feeling:

Soliloquy of the Chickadee

"Alas! How fallen is man! I never yet have given cause for complaint, nor cost man anything. My deeds have been deeds of kindness. I am calm and peaceful among my neighbors, and have ever loved man's humanity. Never did I think that such a fate as this awaited me at the hand of man whom I have cheered all seasons of the year, in May and December alike, as he has gone forth to and from his daily labor. Had this misfortune been brought on by some cat or mink or weasel, or even by some of my bird enemies, I could have reconciled myself to it. But I have been man's best friend and he knows it. My numberless ancestors have been among man's best supporters. My dream has been, during these many days of toil and care, to watch my happy little family of birds grow up in the ways of chickadees, that they too could soon be able to go forth prepared for the battle of life and partake of the great feast of insects and worms and insect eggs, so abundant over there in the orchards and lawns and to which all farm crops would become a prey without us.

"But alas! My hopes are blighted and my dream turned into a nightmare. Only one egg pipped, so I could glimpse the little mouth beneath! A ray of sunshine! A consummation devoutly to be wished for! My little ones breaking through those prison walls, soon to become my companions!