Alack-a-day! our Bluebird does not sing! You see, he comes from Mexican stock, Sialia mexicana, and since we will not let him talk Spanish, or Aztecan, or Zampeyan, he flits about silent in seven languages. Er—but—what’s this? Can we be mistaken? Here is what Dr. J. K. Townsend[38] says of the Western Bluebird: “Common on the Columbia River in the spring. It arrives from the south early in April, and about the first week in May commences building. * * * A flock of eight or ten of these birds visited the British fort on the Columbia, on a fine day in the winter of 1835. They confined themselves chiefly to the fences, occasionally flying to the ground and scratching among the snow for minute insects, the fragments of which were found in the stomachs of several which I killed. After procuring an insect the male usually returned to the fence again, and warbled for a minute most delightfully. This note altho somewhat like that of our common Wilsonii [i. e., S. sialis], is still so different as to be easily recognized. It is equally sweet and clear but of so little compass (at this season) as to be heard only a short distance. In the spring it is louder, but it is at all times much less strong than that of the common species.”
Dr. Brewer, condensing Nuttall, says[39]: “He [Nuttall] speaks of its habits as exactly similar to those of the common Bluebird. The male is equally tuneful thruout the breeding-season, and his song is also very similar. Like the common species he is very devoted to his mate, alternately feeding and caressing her and entertaining her with his song. This is a little more varied, tender, and sweet [editor’s italics] than that of the Eastern species, and differs in its expressions.”
Our own Dr. Cooper testifies:[40] “It also differs [i. e. from S. sialis] in its song, which is not so loud as sweet, and is curiously performed to sound as if two birds were singing at once and in different keys.” Here the tradition begins to waver. More recent writers say: “The song of the Western Bluebird is not full but is, like his manners, gentle and sweet” (Lord); and, “It has the soft warble of its kind” (Mrs. Bailey). But again Dr. Brewer writes:[41] “In regard to their song Mr. Ridgway states that he did not hear even during the pairing season, any note approaching in sweetness, or indeed similar to, the joyous spring warble which justly renders our Eastern Bluebird (S. sialis) so universal a favorite.” The doctors disagree. Some one has been dreaming!
All I can say is, that in an experience of some sixteen seasons in Washington, I have never heard the Bluebird sing, or utter any note more pretentious than the plaintive miu already referred to. It has beside, however, a note of protest, which sounds remotely like the kek of a distrustful Guinea fowl; and it indulges certain very unmusical chittering and clucking notes when endeavoring to attract the attention of its young.
No; the Western Bluebird is no musician, but he is a beauty; and he does have the same gentle courtesy of bearing which has endeared the Bluebird wherever he is known. It is impossible to treat of Bluebirds’ domestic life without recourse to humanizing terms. Bluebird is a gentleman, chivalrous and brave, as he is tender and loving. Mrs. Bluebird is a lady, gentle, confiding, and most appreciative. And as for the little Bluebirdses they are as well behaved a lot of children as ever crowned an earthly affection.
Taken in Oregon. Photo by Finley and Bohlman.
WESTERN BLUEBIRD AT NEST.
Both parents are unsparing in their devotion to the rising generation, and so thoroly is this unselfish spirit reflected in the conduct of the children that it is the subject of frequent remark. Mr. Finley tells[42] of an instance in which a first brood, just out of pinafores, turned to and helped their parents provide food for another batch of babies, and this not once, nor twice, nor casually, but regularly, until the second brood were well matured. Instinct! Instinct! say you? But, wherefor? Is it not rather a foregleam of ethical life, an outcropping of that altruistic tendency which hints a deeper kinship with the birds than we have yet confessed?
And real gallantry between the sexes may not be less ethical. On a day in Ohio, I located a Bluebird’s nest in the knot-hole of an apple tree, and planted the camera in a commanding and somewhat threatening position. The cavity held callow young, but after the parents had visited their charges once and were somewhat relieved in anxiety, I saw a very pretty passage which took place between them. In a neighboring apple tree the male secured an elegant fat grub and was most devoutly thrashing it, when the female appeared upon the scene. With a coaxing twitter she approached her mate; but he backed off, as much as to say, “Wait, wait, dear, he isn’t dead yet!” But she was hungry and pressed her suit, until he in good-natured impatience flitted across to another limb. Here he whacked the worm vigorously, striking him first against one side of the limb and then against the other by a swinging motion of the head. The female followed her lord and cooed: “Oh, I know that will taste good. Um! I hav’n’t tasted one of those white grubs for a week. So good of you, dearest! Really, don’t you think he is done now?” The valiant husband gave the luckless grub just one more whack; and then, with every appearance of satisfaction, he hopped over toward his better half and placed the morsel in her waiting beak, while she received the favor with quivering wings and a soft flood of tender thanks. Altogether I think I never saw a prettier exhibition of conjugal affection, gallantry, and genuine altruism than the sight afforded. It was not only like the behavior of humans; it was like the best in human life, a pattern rather than a copy, an inspiration to nobility and gentleness of the very highest type.
