Stories of Birds
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Lenore Elizabeth Mulets >> Stories of Birds
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[Frontispiece: "He came quite close and stared at the little girl"
(missing from book)]
STORIES OF BIRDS
By
Lenore Elizabeth Mulets
_Illustrated by_
Sophie Schneider
_"When our babe he goeth walking in his garden
Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play;
The posies they are good to him
And bow them as they should to him
As he fareth upon his kingly way:
The birdlings of the wood to him
Make music, gentle music, all the day
When our babe he goeth walking in his garden."_
_--Eugene Field._
Boston: L. C. Page and Company
Publishers
Copyright, 1903
By L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(Incorporated)
All rights reserved
Made in U.S.A.
New Edition, April, 1925
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
PREFACE
Where can you find a lad who does not treasure among his secrets the
nesting-place of some pair of birds? Where can you find a child who
does not watch for the first robin of spring-time? Where can you find
one who does not know when the wild ducks in the wedge-shaped flocks
fly southward?
This little book of "Bird Stories" is written both for the children who
already know our common birds, and for those who may know them if they
choose.
For those children who know, the book is a verification of their own
facts, with an addition of stories, poems, and songs to make facts
beautiful; for the children who do not know, the book is a simple set
of facts placed before them for verification and entertainment.
To all, may the knowledge obtained be a pleasure and a delight.
LENORE ELIZABETH MULETS.
CONTENTS
The Chickadee
In the Snow
Twenty Little Chickadees
The Snowbird's Song
How the Birds Got Their Feathers
Chilly Little Chickadees
All About the Chickadee
Robin Redbreast
Merry Robin Redbreast
The Robin's Red Breast
Which Was the Wiser?
All About the Robin
The Swallow
Under the Eaves
The Swallows
All About the Barn Swallow
The Hawk and the Raven
From the Barnyard Fence
The First Hawk
Origin of the Raven and the Macaw
All About the Chicken-Hawk
All About the Raven
The Kingfisher
With the Water Watchman
The Halcyon Birds
All About the Kingfisher
The Red-Headed Woodpecker
In Cap of Red
A Legend of the Northland
All About the Woodpecker
The Lark
In the Meadow
The Song of the Merry Lark
Saved by a Lark
All About the Meadow Lark
The Owl
A Good-Night
The Owl (Tennyson)
The Owl Girl
The Owl and the Raven
The Owl (Shakespeare)
All About the Barred or Hoot Owl
The Bobolink
A Summer Song
Robert of Lincoln
All About the Bobolink or Rice-Bird
The Sea-Doves and the Great Blue Heron
Beside the Sea
Sea-Pigeons
The Sandpiper
The Circling of Cranes
All About the Great Blue Heron or Blue Crane
All About the Sea-Dove
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"He came quite close and stared at the little
girl" (see page 4) . . . . . . Frontispiece
"By this time the robin was on the ground"
"'No robin or chickadee could build such nests as the swallow'"
"On a branch sat a bird. He was considerably larger than a robin"
"The owl only blinked his great eyes"
"'She is sitting on a nestful of light blue eggs'"
THE CHICKADEE
OR SNOWBIRD
[Illustration: The Chickadee]
IN THE SNOW
It was a bright, wintry day. The frost jewels sparkled on the snow.
The winds blew cutting cold from the north.
Phyllis, in her scarlet coat and cap, and long, warm leggings, waded in
the deepest drifts she could find.
Out by the garden fence was the greatest drift. After floundering
through it, Phyllis climbed up and perched on the top rail of the fence.
She sat quite still, for she was almost breathless after her struggle
in the snow.
Suddenly, just over her head, Phyllis heard a whistle. She started so
that she almost fell from the fence.
Again came the whistle, clear, sweet, and long drawn out. Phyllis
looked up, and there on the branch of the elm-tree sat a cheery little
bird.
With a third whistle he flew down to the fence and perched beside
Phyllis.
He came quite close and stared at the little girl in a gay, curious
manner, as though he might be looking for a playfellow.
"Who are you?" asked Phyllis, looking like a great red bird as she
perched on the fence.
"Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!" twittered the little
fellow. It seemed to Phyllis that he laughed because she did not know
him.
"Oh, to be sure," said she. "How stupid of me not to remember. I have
met you a hundred times.
"I should have remembered your black head and throat. The sides of
your head and neck are white. Your breasts and sides are light yellow.
Your tail and wings are of a much darker shade, and how daintily they
are edged with white!"
The chickadee fluttered about for a moment, and noticing the
friendliness in Phyllis's tones he perched a little closer to her side.
"I do not believe you noticed the large white feathers in my
shoulders," he said. "You may always know a chickadee by the white
markings there."
"I did not notice your white shoulders at first," said Phyllis, "but I
saw at once what fine downy feathers you have. They are beautifully
soft. Do they make a warm winter dress? How do you chance to be here
in the winter-time?
"I think it is time you were in the South, Mr. Chickadee! Did your
family leave you behind?"
"No, indeed," replied Mr. Chickadee. "No, indeed, Phyllis! My entire
family are wintering here in the North. We never go South for the
winter.
"We are quite happy to remain here at home, and to come out on sunshiny
days and whistle and sing and be happy.
"Only half an hour ago some boys went coasting down that hill. I
whistled at them but they did not hear me.
"Soon they came up the hill, drawing their sleds behind them. I
whistled again and called my name.
"'Why, hello,' cried a boy in a blue reefer and a blue stocking cap.
'Hello, chickadee, you're a jolly little fellow! We call you our fair
weather friend because you sing so cheerily on these clear frosty days.'
"'Oho!' laughed another boy, who had a big scratch on his nose, 'I saw
a chickadee flying about among the fir-trees on that very stormy day
last week. He sang just as cheerily through the storm.' Then the boy
whistled back to me and called my name."
"That was my brother Jack," laughed Phyllis. "He got that scratch
while out coasting. He told me that he saw you on that stormy day. He
loves the winter quite as well as you do. You should hear him sing and
whistle when the snow falls for coasting. You should hear him shout
when the cold skating days come. He says that Jack Frost is a fellow's
best friend."
"Indeed," said the jolly little chickadee, blinking his eyes in a funny
way, "my brothers say the very same thing!"
"But how do you find anything to eat in the winter-time?" Phyllis
asked. "The insects and worms have long been dead. What did you have
for breakfast this morning?"
"We had eggs and--"
"Eggs?" cried Phyllis, not waiting for the bird to finish. "You had
eggs?"
"Yes, moth's eggs," said the bird. "The moths leave their eggs about
in all sorts of places. We chickadees know where to find them!"
"Are they--good?" asked Phyllis.
"Delicious!" replied the chickadee. "I think I have eaten more than a
million insects' eggs in my life. I shall never tire of them."
"Where do you sleep?" Phyllis asked.
"In the fir-trees, to be sure," was the reply. "It is quite warm in
there, among the many branches, and as soon as we waken we can get our
breakfasts. There are all sorts of eggs and sleeping insects among the
fir branches."
Phyllis looked from her own thick red leggings to the chickadee's light
blue legs.
"Don't your feet get very cold?" she asked. "You surely need some
leggings."
The chickadee chirruped and twittered and fluttered until Phyllis
suddenly saw that he was laughing at her.
"I don't know what cold feet are!" he said. "I'm glad no one gave me
red leggings for Christmas."
"What did you get for Christmas?"
"A wonderfully fine dinner spread on a white snow table-cloth under the
cherry-tree!" replied the bird.
"Oh, did you come to my bird feast?" cried the little girl. "I spread
crumbs and bird seed for you. Jack wanted to hang a meat bone in the
cedar-tree. He said that you would like it better. Indeed, I believe
he did hang one there. Did you ever see it?"
"Oh, yes, Phyllis, many a day have we pecked away at that meat bone.
It was really very good."
"Jack read in a book that you were fond of pecking at meat bones. He
will be glad to know that it is true!"
"Thank him for us," said the chickadee. "You were kind to remember us!"
"Ah," said Phyllis, "but it was kind of you to remain behind to cheer
us when all the other birds have gone to warmer lands.
"But, chickadee, though you are so cheery and gay in winter, are you
not really happier in the summer-time?"
"Oh, we are so busy in summer," the chickadee replied. "Last May I
travelled miles and miles looking for a vacant house."
"Looking for a vacant house?" cried Phyllis, with wide brown eyes.
"For housekeeping," said the chickadee. "You see my mate and I had
never kept house before. She was very anxious to find a most suitable
place.
"My wife said a woodpecker's nest was the very place, but I rather
preferred a squirrel's hole.
"For a long time we could find neither to suit us. But at length I
heard Mrs. Chickadee calling loudly. I flew to her side at once.
"'What is it?' I cried.
"'Look!' cried Mrs. Chickadee, pointing with her bill and flapping her
wings with joy.
"Through the thick of the woods ran a gray old rail fence. Woodbine
and wild hop vines wellnigh covered it. The posts were gray where they
were not moss-covered.
"In one of these gray-green posts was a hole where a pair of
woodpeckers had once built their nest.
"'This is the very place for us!' cried Mrs. Chickadee. 'It could not
be better though we hollowed it out for ourselves.'"
"Could you?" asked Phyllis, looking at the bird's little short black
bill.
"If need be, we could, indeed," replied the chickadee. "But we would
far rather find a knot-hole, or a squirrel's or woodpecker's deserted
nest.
"When we had decided on the spot," the bird went on, "we at once began
lining the nest. We carried fine grasses and soft feathers. We found
mosses and rabbits' fur to make it soft.
"Those were indeed happy days for us. They were also exciting days.
We were very careful to let no one know what we were about.
"Once, as I flew home with a bit of moss, I saw a boy lying on the
grass not far from our fence-post. It would never do to let him know
our secret. Boys are not to be trusted.
"I perched upon the fence and pretended that I had never a thought of
nest building.
"In a moment Mrs. Chickadee came flying home with a soft, downy
feather. When I called out warningly she at once flew to me.
"Then the boy called softly to his little sister.
"'Come quick,' he said, 'if you want to watch these birds build their
nest.'
"A little dark-eyed girl crept up beside the boy. We scarcely knew
what to do. Soon a bright idea occurred to me. I began to sing my
very best. I also performed my most wonderful tricks. I whirled round
and round. I darted between the rails. I spun about.
"The children became so interested in my performance that they forgot
to watch Mrs. Chickadee. When they were not looking her way, she flew
to the nest and arranged the feather.
"When she returned she took my place on the fence. Now my wife and I
look very much alike, and though she cannot perform quite as nimbly as
I, the children did not know when we changed places.
"While the children watched her I flew to the nest with my bit of moss.
"'What a pity!' said the little girl, as we flew away laughing to
ourselves. 'They stopped to play and they lost the bits of moss and
feathers with which they meant to make their nest!'
"'Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee!' called back my wife
happily."
All this time Phyllis's eyes were growing rounder and bigger.
"Why," said she, "I never knew there was but one bird performing on the
fence. I thought the other flew away!"
"That was because Mrs. Chickadee and I look so much alike," replied Mr.
Chickadee.
"But we did find your nest a few days later," said Phyllis. "In it
were six small white eggs covered with tiny red specks. We went to
look at the nest every day until the eggs hatched. Then we went
several times a day until the baby birds learned to fly and left the
nest empty.
"But you did not disturb us," said the chickadee, "though we were
dreadfully frightened at first."
At that moment a great soft snowball went plump! against Phyllis's red
cap.
"Jack!" she cried, scrambling off the fence and running after the boy
with the scratch on his nose. "Jack, take me for a ride on your sled!"
Then she looked back. The chickadee now sat in the tree-top.
"Tell Mrs. Chickadee," called Phyllis, "that I shall spread some more
crumbs and seeds on the white table-cloth this afternoon. We'll hang
another bone in the cedar-tree, too!"
"Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!" cried the little bird in a flutter of delight.
TWENTY LITTLE CHICKADEES
Twenty little chickadees,
Sitting in a row;
Twenty pairs of naked feet
Buried in the snow.
I should think you'd fly away
Where the weather's warm,
Then you wouldn't have to be
Out there in the storm.
Sorry little chickadees,
Don't you know the way?
Can't you find the road to go
Where 'tis always May?
Robins all have found it out,
Wrens and bluebirds too,
Don't you wish you'd thought to ask
Ere away they flew?
THE SNOWBIRD'S SONG[1]
The ground was all covered with snow, one day,
And two little sisters were busy at play--
A snowbird was sitting close by on a tree,
And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee!
He had not been singing that tune very long,
When Emily heard him, so loud was his song.
"Oh, sister, look out of the window!" said she,
"Here's a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de-dee!
"Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet
And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet,
I wonder what makes him so full of his glee,
And why he keeps singing, his chick-a-de-dee.
"If I were a barefooted snowbird, I know,
I would not stay out in the cold and the snow.
I pity him so! Oh, how cold he must be,
And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-dee.
"Oh, mother, do get him some stockings and shoes,
And a nice little frock, and a hat, let him choose.
I wish he'd come into the parlour, and see
How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-dee!"
The bird had flown down for some sweet crumbs of bread,
And heard every word little Emily said.
"How funny I'd look in that costume!" thought he,
And he laughed, as he warbled his chick-a-de-dee.
"I am grateful," said he, "for the wish you express,
But I have no occasion for such a fine dress.
I'd rather remain with my little limbs free,
Than to hobble about singing chick-a-de-dee.
"There is One, my dear child, though I cannot tell who,
Has clothed me already, and warm enough, too.
Good morning! Oh, who are so happy as we?"
And away he flew, singing his chick-a-de-dee.
[1] From "The Second Reader--of the Rational Method In Reading."
HOW THE BIRDS GOT THEIR FEATHERS
(IROQUOIS MYTH)
That evening, as the family sat beside the hearth, Phyllis thought of
the brave little chickadees out in the fir-trees.
"I wonder if they are really warm enough," she said. "Do feathers make
a warm dress, mother? Why do birds have feathers instead of fur?"
"I have heard the story that the Indians tell of how the birds got
their feathers," said mother. "Bring your chairs closer and I will
tell the story to you."
So the children drew their chairs up into the firelight, and listened
to this little Indian story:
"Once some little Indian children," began the mother, "gathered about
the fire inside their deerskin wigwam and begged their mother for a
story.
"Each little Indian was wrapped in a bright coloured blanket. Each
little Indian wore long turkey buzzard feathers in his hair.
"The Indian mother looked at her baby braves proudly. She thought of
the time when each of the children was a tiny papoose and swung in a
deerskin cradle like a bird in its nest.
"'There was a time,' said the Indian squaw, 'when the birds had no
feathers.
"'Being naked, they remained hidden among the leaves. Being ashamed
they were silent, and no bird-note sweetened the stillness of the
forest.
"'At last with faint chirpings the mother birds prayed the Great Spirit
for blankets in which to wrap their little ones.
"'Then the Great Spirit, seeing their sorry plight, sent a messenger to
the birds, who told them that even now coverings were ready for every
bird.
"'The messenger said that hereafter each family of birds should dress
in uniform, so that the forest people, seeing a bird, might know at
once, by its dress, to what bird family it belonged.
"'But alas! the messenger also said that the uniforms were a great way
off. He himself could not bring them to the forest. The birds must
choose one who was strong of wing and able to endure great hardships,
to go back with him and bring the uniforms home.
"'The poor featherless birds looked about for one who was brave and
fearless and untiring. A council was held to induce some bird to go on
this long journey.
"'But one and all pleaded some excuse. Some must remain to care for
the babes still in the nest. Some were too old to undertake the
journey. Some were too young to find the way.
"'Some had been ill and were still too weak to travel. Indeed, the
birds seemed to be in as sad a plight as before.
"'At last there stepped forth a bird, who, truth to tell, was not a
general favourite among his fellows. His name was turkey buzzard.
"'The bird agreed to undertake the long journey and bring back the
feathery uniforms, if he could choose the most beautiful coat of
feathers for himself and his family for ever.
"'To this the other birds consented, and the featherless turkey buzzard
flew away.
"'It was indeed a long and a dangerous journey. Sometimes the poor
bird nearly dropped from weariness and hunger. Sometimes, so hungry
was he, that he was forced to make a meal off from some dead animal
which lay in the way. Indeed so often did he do this that in time he
came to like this food.
"'It came to pass, after many days, that the turkey buzzard, being
directed by the Great Spirit, found the feathery uniforms.
"'He at once began to look them over. He intended to choose the most
beautiful coat of feathers for himself and his family.
"'Soon he found a suit of most gorgeous colours. He tried it on, and
looked at his own reflection in the water. The dress was very
beautiful. Well pleased with himself and his dress the turkey buzzard
gathered up the remaining uniforms and started for home.
"'But alas! the new dress, although so beautiful, did not fit
comfortably. The poor bird found that he could not fly well in his new
dress. He tried another and still another bright coloured dress, but
in none of them was he comfortable.
"'At length, quite discouraged, he slipped into a quiet, dark uniform.
Although this suit was the least beautiful it fitted comfortably and
gracefully. In it the turkey buzzard flew away home, and in such
uniform have his family ever since been content to dress.
"'The turkey buzzards are quite willing to leave the more gorgeous
dresses for those birds who cannot fly so far nor so gracefully as
they.'"
CHILLY LITTLE CHICKADEES[1]
Chilly little chickadees,
Sitting in a row,
Chilly little chickadees,
Buried in the snow,
Don't you find it very cold
For your little feet?
Don't you find it hard to get
Anything to eat?
Hungry little chickadees,
Would you like some bread?
I will give you all you want,
Or some seed, instead,
Anything you like to eat
I will give you free,
Every morning, every night,
If you come to me.
Jolly little chickadees,
Have you had enough?
Don't forget to come again
When the weather's rough.
Bye, bye, happy little birds!
Off the wee things swarm,
Plying through the driving snow,
Singing in the storm.
[1] From "Songs and Games for Little Ones," by permission of Oliver
Ditson Company, owners of the copyright.
ALL ABOUT THE CHICKADEE
SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS.
Does not go south in winter.
Song--two or three clear long whistles and the chirping of his own
name, "chickadee."
A gay, curious little bird.
Black head and throat--sides of head and neck white--breast grayish
buff--wings and tail darker shade edged with white--larger feathers of
shoulders white.
Food--seeds and dormant insects or larval eggs.--Valuable as an insect
destroyer.
Builds in hollow places--usually deserted woodpeckers' or squirrels'
nests--sometimes hollows place for itself.
Six white eggs speckled with red--young birds, male and female much
alike in colouring.
ROBIN REDBREAST
MERRY ROBIN REDBREAST
"Robin, robin redbreast,
Singing on the bough,
Come and get your breakfast,
We will feed you now.
Robin likes the golden grain,
Nods his head and sings again:
'Chirping, chirping cheerily,
Here I come so merrily,
Thank you, children dear!'"
Thus sang Phyllis one morning during the second week in March.
In the topmost bough of the old apple-tree sat Robin Redbreast, looking
altogether doubtful as to whether he liked the little girl's song.
But when he saw the grains of wheat which the child was scattering on
the ground for his breakfast, he thought better of his doubt.
He hopped lower on the branches. He turned his little head on one side
and looked at Phyllis in a very friendly fashion.
"Come on down!" Phyllis begged. "I am so glad that you have returned.
I am so glad that you came to this very apple-tree and sang so strong
and loud and clear!"
"Chirp! Chirp!" and the robin hopped again nearer.
"You see," Phyllis went on, in her coaxing little voice, "my brother
Jack, being a boy, said he would be the one to see the first robin this
year.
"But I made up my mind that if watchful eyes and careful ears could
help a little girl, I would get ahead of Jack.
"Sure enough, the first thing I heard this morning was your sweet song.
When did you arrive? Aren't you rather early?"
By this time the robin was on the ground, pecking away at the grain.
As he ate his breakfast he told his story.
[Illustration: "By this time the robin was on the ground" (missing from
book)]
"I have been south all winter long," he said. "It is very lovely in
the southland. Food is plenty, the days are long, and the sunshine is
golden, bright, and warm.
"But as soon as the spring days came I grew restless. I knew the snow
was beginning to melt and the grass to grow green in my old home
country. I wanted to start north at once.
"I spoke to my little mate about it, and found her to be as homesick as
I. So we flew north a little earlier than usual this year, and arrived
ahead of the others. We are now quite anxious to get to housekeeping,
and are already looking for a suitable place for a nest."
"If you will build near us," said Phyllis, "I will help you care for
your little ones. I will give you all the crumbs that you can eat."
"Oh! oh!" chirped the robin; "you are very kind, Phyllis, but I hardly
think you would know how to feed bird babies.
"You see our babies are so fond of bugs and worms and all sorts of
insects, that they do not care for crumbs when they can have nice fat
worms.
"We sometimes feed berries and cherries to our babies. We older birds
often eat fruit, but really we like worms and bugs better."
"The robins ate all the cherries from the top of our cherry-tree last
year," said Phyllis.
"Yes, we did eat some of your cherries," admitted the robin. "They
were very sweet and juicy.
"There are people who say that we robins are a nuisance, and that we
destroy so much fruit that they wish we would never come near them.
The fact is, we do more good than harm to your orchards and berry
patches. Just think how many insects we destroy! If it were not for
us I think much more fruit would be destroyed by insects. And worms
and caterpillars would be crawling everywhere.
"A robin is a very greedy fellow. He eats nearly all the time. I
could not begin to tell you how many insects I have eaten during my
life.
"There are cutworms, too, which live underground. During the night
they come out for food. We robins are early risers, and often catch
the slow worms before they can get back to their underground homes."
"Ah," laughed Phyllis, "that must be the reason that we say that the
early bird catches the worm."
"When our babies come," said the robin, "we are very busy, indeed.
Those young mouths seem always to be open, begging for more food.
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