A Manual of Bird Study / A Description of Twenty-Five Local Birds with Study Options

by William H. Carr

Turning squarely on my back, I for a moment saw nothing in the leafy midst so far above. As my eyes became more properly focussed, however, they distinguished some small objects of about the same size. My glasses were safely stored in the heel of a large shoe close at hand. Forgetting the chill air, I uncovered my chest and arms long enough to take out the binoculars.

There in the tree top I saw a moving mass of very small birds that were flying from one twig to another with scarcely any pause in their activities. No sooner would one move out of sight than another would come flying into the tree and take his place. The entire gathering was ever going southward. A few of the number came down to the lower branches where their identity could be more readily determined. I realized that I was witnessing the fall migration of a large group of American warblers.

Among the most prominent of the small birds were the female and young Redstarts, who flashed into view many times. The yellow on the outer tail feathers was plainly visible as they sped here and there after any insect that might be about. The Myrtle Warbler, with his four yellow spots on crown, rump, and on each side of his breast, was very largely represented in the tree top. The dainty little Yellow Warbler and the Black-throated Blue were also there. What a multitude they were and what a long fearsome journey they had yet to travel! It would be hard to enumerate all of the various dangers that beset these little birds as they fly mile after mile through the air at night, and more particularly as they rest and feed near the ground during the day.

Even as I watched, a marauding Screech Owl glided overhead on noiseless wings. Instantly the twittering died, only to be recommenced after the Owl had passed quite harmlessly by.

What busy little creatures these birds were! They searched every leaf and let no morsel of food, insect or plant, escape. How well they knew that birds that fly in the night must feast in the daytime. They were with me for about fifteen minutes, and then, as gradually as they had come, so did they pass on until at last not a single one was to be seen.

For some time I lay there trying vainly to warm myself after my warbler exposure. Not a sound was to be heard—even the wind had become silent. Then suddenly there came from not very far a call of “Teacher, Teacher, Teacher, TEACHER.” Never before or since have I heard the “teacher bird” announce himself so late in the season. He was also on his journey southward. His smaller brother warblers took to the tree tops but he, although of the same family, preferred the ground where he might look among the leaves for choice bits of food. This bird is known by a diversity of names. He is called by many the “oven-bird”, due to the Dutch-oven-like structure of his nest; but to me he is, as he was to John Burroughs, the “Teacher Bird.”

When I go off alone into the woods I want some sort of “burglar alarm” to warn me of strangers in camp on windless nights. I resort to a very ancient but effective practice. By gathering many armfuls of dry, dead leaves and piling them all about my tent I feel fairly sure that no prowler can take me by surprise. I had provided myself with just such an alarm on this overnight hike, and was made aware by a slight rustling close to my tent that I had a caller of some kind. For a moment I thought it was a gray squirrel, but then the nature of the noise seemed different and I was puzzled as to who my visitor might be.

In a moment I found out. A most beautiful, clean-cut little Wood Thrush came hopping along before my tent. He looked very cold, and for that reason aroused my sympathy at once. His shapely brown head was tucked down between the shoulder blades as far as possible. So cold was he that he did not even look for food, but with no apparent thought as to direction, moved along evidently just to keep warm. It gave me a mental picture of myself as I would be when I arose. My main object would be to get the fire going so as to keep warm; food would come later.

The Thrush passed out of my sight without having paid any attention to me. I thought him gone for all time; but no, in a moment he reappeared and to my intense delight came stalking straight towards the tent, still in the frozen manner.

Suddenly, I am positive, he saw me. His head was taken from between the shoulders, and every part of the bird seemed instantly on the alert. The contrast was startling. Here was a most active and intelligent creature where before had been one that looked remarkably dull and stupid.