Taken in Douglas County. Photo by the Author.
WESTERN KINGBIRD AT NEST.
Here is the presiding genius of all properly conducted ranches upon the sunny side of the Cascade Mountains. Guest he is not, host rather; and before you have had time to dismount from your panting cayuse this bird bustles forth from the locust trees and hovers over you with noisy effusiveness. The boisterous greeting is one-third concern for his babies in the locust tree hard-by, one-third good fellowship, and the remainder sheer restlessness. The Western Kingbird is preeminently a social creature. And by social in this case we mean, of course, inclined to human society. For, altho the bird may start up with vociferating cries every time a member of the besieged household sets foot out of doors, one is reminded by these attentions rather of a frolicsome puppy than of a zealous guardian of the peace. Those who have been most honored by their presence year after year claim that the birds become fond of certain members of the family, and allow a familiarity in nest inspection which would be shriekingly resented in the case of strangers.
Taken in Douglas County. Photo by the Author.
“BEAUTIES THEY ARE.”
One can readily guess a utilitarian consideration in favor of ranch life, viz., the greater variety and abundance of insects afforded. Of these the Kingbirds enjoy a practical monopoly by reason of their confidence in man. They are fond of flies, moths, butterflies, crickets, winged ants, and all that sort of thing. Moreover, they eat bees. But,—[Hold on, Mr. Rancher! Don’t grab that shot-gun and begin murdering Kingbirds] they eat only drones. A bee-keeper in California was curious on this point and dissected over a hundred specimens of Western Kingbirds and Phœbes, using a microscope in the examination of stomach contents. The birds had been shot about the apiaries, where they had been seen darting upon and catching bees. Altho many of the birds were gorged, no working bees were found, only drones. This is an important distinction to bear in mind, for the reduction of drones is unqualifiedly beneficial. And when one stops to think of it, it is absurd to suppose that a bird could swallow bees, stings and all, with impunity.
But the real secret of Kingbird’s attachment for mankind is not discovered until we see his nest. It is our strings which have won his heart. Whatever else the nest may or may not contain, it is sure to have string,—string in strands, string in coils, string in bunches, hanks, and tangles, drug store string of a dissipated crimson hue, white string that came around the sugar, greasy string that you had tied around your finger to remind you to feed the chickens, string of every length and size and use and hue.
Those Western Kingbirds which have not yet adopted men manage to subsist somewhat after the fashion of their eastern cousins, and build a nest of twigs, grass, weed-stalks, bark strips, and cottonwood down, placing it against the trunk, or saddling it upon a horizontal fork of willow, poplar, cottonwood, or pine, usually near water. One we found in Douglas County built in a small willow which emerged from a shallow lake, a hundred feet from shore.
But, more commonly, nests are placed about crannies and projections of farm buildings, fences, unused wagon-ricks, or upon the house itself. If no such conveniences offer, a shade tree is second choice, and the nest includes all the soft waste which the farm affords, bits of cloth, wool, cow-hair, feathers, and string.
Taken at Stratford. Photo by the Author.
A DIVIDED HOUSE.