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  BIRDS AND ALL NATURE.

  ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.

  VOL. VI.         NOVEMBER, 1899.           NO. 4




    CONTENTS

                                                            Page
  A RARE HUMMING BIRD.                                       145
  THE LADY'S SLIPPER.                                        146
  JIM AND I.                                                 149
  WHY AND WHEREFORE OF THE COLORS OF BIRDS' EGGS.            152
  TEA.                                                       155
  THE TOWHEE; CHEWINK.                                       158
  WEE BABIES.                                                161
  WISH-TON-WISH.                                             162
  THE BEE AND THE FLOWER.                                    164
  THE CANARY.                                                167
  THE PAROQUET.                                              169
  THE CAROLINA PAROQUET.                                     170
  WHAT THE WOOD FIRE SAID TO A LITTLE BOY.                   173
  THE MISSISSIPPI.                                           174
  INDIAN SUMMER.                                             176
  THE CHIPMUNK.                                              179
  TED'S WEATHER PROPHET.                                     180
  THREATENED EXTERMINATION OF THE FUR SEAL.                  181
  THE PEACH.                                                 182
  THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE VICEROY.                         185
  BIRD LORE OF THE ANCIENT FINNS.                            186
  BIRD NOTES.                                                187
  STORY OF A NEST.                                           188
  COMMON MINERALS AND VALUABLE ORES.                         191
  WHEN ANIMALS ARE SEASICK.                                  192




A RARE HUMMING BIRD.

HOW ONE OF THESE LITTLE FAIRY CREATURES WAS TAMED.

P. W. H.


Instances are very rare where birds are familiar with human beings,
and the humming birds especially are considered unapproachable, yet a
naturalist tells how he succeeded in catching one in his hand. Several
cases are on record of attempts to tame humming birds, but when placed
in a cage they do not thrive, and soon die. The orange groves of
southern California abound in these attractive creatures, and several
can often be seen about the flowering bushes, seeking food or chasing
each other in play. "Once, when living on the <DW72>s of the Sierra
Madre mountains, where they were very plentiful, I accomplished the
feat of taking one in my hand," says the naturalist.

"I first noticed it in the garden, resting on a mustard stalk, and,
thinking to see how near I could approach, I gradually moved toward it
by pretending to be otherwise engaged, until I was within five feet of
it. The bird looked at me calmly and I moved slowly nearer, whistling
gently to attract its attention, as I began to think something was the
matter with it. It bent its head upon one side, eyed me sharply, then
flew to another stalk a few feet away, contemplating me as before.
Again I approached, taking care not to alarm it, and this time I was
almost within reaching distance before it flew away. The bird seemed to
have a growing confidence in me, and I became more and more deliberate
in my movements until I finally stood beside it, the little creature
gazing at me with its head tipped upon one side as if questioning what
I was about. I then withdrew and approached again, repeating this
several times before I stretched out my hand to take it, at which it
flew to another bush. But the next time it allowed me to grasp it, and
I had caught a wild bird open-handed without even the use of salt!"

One of the curious features of humming birds is that they are never
found in Europe, being exclusively American, ranging in this country
from the extreme north to the tropics, adding to the beauty of field
and grove, being veritable living gems. Nothing can approach the
humming bird in its gorgeousness of decoration. It is especially rich
in the metallic tints, seemingly splashed with red, blue, green, and
other bronzes. Some appear to be decked in a coat of mail, others
blazing in the sunlight with head-dresses and breast-plates that are
dazzling to behold and defy description. The smallest of birds, they
are one of the most beautiful of the many ornaments of our fields and
gardens.

In some islands of the south Pacific birds have been found that had
never seen a man before, and allowed themselves to be picked up, and
even had to be pushed out of peoples' way, it is said, yet they must
have been very unlike the birds that are generally known, or they would
have been more timid, even if they had not learned the fear of man.




THE LADY'S SLIPPER.

WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY,

Secretary of The Chicago Academy of Sciences.


This interesting plant belongs to that remarkable family of orchids
(_Orchidaceæ_) which includes over four hundred genera and five
thousand species. They are especially noted for the great variety of
shapes and colors of their flowers, many of them resembling beetles
and other insects, monkey, snake, and lizard heads, as well as helmets
and slippers, the latter giving rise to the name of the plant in our
illustration. The variety, singular beauty, and delicate odor, as well
as the peculiar arrangement of the parts of the flower, make many of
the species of great financial value. This is also enhanced by the
extreme care required in their cultivation, which must be accomplished
in hothouses, for the majority of the more valuable forms are native
only in the tropical forests. Many, too, are rarely found except as
single individuals widely separated.

There are many parasitic species, and in the tropics a larger number
attach themselves by their long roots to trees, but do not obtain their
nourishment from them, while those belonging to temperate regions
usually grow on the ground.

In the last sixty years the cultivation of orchids has become a passion
in Europe and, to a great extent, in America.

It is said that "Linnæus, in the middle of the last century, knew but a
dozen exotic orchids." To-day over three thousand are known to English
and American horticulturists.

Though admired by all, the orchids are especially interesting to
the scientist, for in their peculiar flowers is found an unusual
arrangement to bring about cross-fertilization, so necessary to the
best development of plant life. It is evident also, as shown by Dr.
Charles Darwin, that this was not so in the earlier life of the family,
but has been a gradual change, through centuries, by which the species
have been better prepared to survive.

No other family of plants presents as much evidence of the provision
in nature for the protection of species and their continuance by
propagation.

Few of the orchids are of economic value to man. The most important
ones, outside of a few used in medicine, are the vanillas, natives of
tropical America and Africa.

The lady's slipper belongs to the genus _Cypripedium_ (from two Greek
words meaning _Venus_ and _a buskin_, that is, Venus' slipper).

There are about forty species found in both temperate and tropical
countries. The one used for our illustration is the "showy lady's
slipper" (_Cypripedium reginæ_ or _spectabile_) and is a native of
eastern North America from Canada nearly to the Gulf of Mexico. It
grows to a height of from one to three feet, and is leafy to the top.
It grows in swamps and wet woods, and in many localities where it
is extensively gathered for ornamental purposes it is being rapidly
exterminated.

Those living before the era of modern investigation knew little of
the functions of the various parts of flowers. We find an excellent
illustration of this ignorance in the following peculiar account of a
South American lady's slipper, written by Dr. Erasmus Darwin, father of
Dr. Charles Darwin, in the latter part of the last century.

In his notes on his poem, "The Economy of Vegetation," he says: "It has
a large globular nectary * * * of a fleshy color, and an incision or
depression much resembling the body of the large American spider * * *
attached to divergent slender petals not unlike the legs of the same
spider." He says that Linnæus claims this spider catches small birds as
well as insects, and adds: "The similitude of this flower to this great
spider seems to be a vegetable contrivance to prevent the humming-bird
from plundering its honey."




  [Illustration: A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.
                 LADY'S SLIPPER.
                 COPYRIGHT 1899, BY
                 NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.]




JIM AND I.

BY ELANORA KINSLEY MARBLE.


Wouldn't the little readers of BIRDS AND ALL NATURE enjoy a talk with a
mother-bird? The father-bird, it seems to me, has done all the talking
hitherto. Because he is handsome and can sing is no reason why Jim, my
mate, should write up the history of his family. It would have been a
sorry attempt had he tried, I promise you, for though he is a Hartz
Mountain Canary--pure yellow and white like the lower bird in the
picture--he is not at all clever. My mistress says I have more sense in
one of my little toes than Jim has in his whole body.

"You cute little thing," she exclaims when I kiss her, or take a hemp
seed from off her finger, "you are the dearest and wisest little bird
in the world."

Jim sometimes taunts me because I wear such sober colors--black
and brown with green and yellow mixed--like the upper bird in the
picture--but I retort that I am a Hartz Mountain bird, also, and have
just as good German blood in my veins as he has. Neither of us ever saw
the Hartz Mountains, of course, for we were born in Chicago, but our
great grandmothers did, I am sure.

A good husband? No, I can't say that Jim is. He is too quarrelsome. My
mistress says he is a bully, whatever that may mean. He has a fashion
of standing by the seed cup and daring me to come and pick up a seed;
the same with the drinking-water and the bathing-dish. Then again he
is very gracious, and calls me pet names, and sings at the top of his
voice every love song he knows. Sometimes I try to imitate him, when
he flies into a rage and sharply bids me "shut up." I am too meek to
return the compliment, even when I have grown weary of his music, but
my mistress shakes her finger at him and calls him a "naughty, naughty
bird."

She can't tame Jim, all she may do. Few canary birds will resist a
hemp seed when offered on a finger. My mistress used to crack them
between her teeth and coax and coax him to take one, but he never
would. That's the reason she calls him stupid, for we love hemp seed
just as you little folks love peanuts, you know. That's the way she
tamed me, and that's the way you can tame your canary if you have one.

I have had a rather eventful history for a bird. In the first
place--but let me begin at the beginning and tell you the circumstance
just as it happened.

It was about four years ago, so far as I can recollect, that I caught
my first glimpse of the world and tasted the sweets of freedom. One
balmy morning in June, I escaped from my cage, and the window being
open, out I joyously flew into the bright sunshine. I was a little
dazzled at first and frightened. How immense the world seemed! How far
away the tender blue sky over which the fleecy clouds sailed, that
sky which I had thought a mere patch when seen from my cage in the
window! How many houses there were, and how inviting the green trees
and grass-plots! I fairly danced with joy, and chirped, "I'm free, I'm
free," as I flew from place to place, my wings, never tiring, bearing
me from tree to housetop and from housetop to tree.

Ah, that was a day never to be forgotten. How I escaped the dangers
which lurk about the steps of the unwary and innocent has always been
a marvel to me. The hostile sparrows, for instance, the green-eyed,
sharp-clawed cat, the sling-shot of the cruel boy, the--but why linger
over horrors which might, but did not happen?

In this way the morning passed joyfully, the pangs of hunger, as noon
approached, however, advising me sharply it was near dinner time. From
housetop to housetop I flew, from tree to tree, but nowhere could I
find a little china cup filled with rape, hemp, and canary seed, or a
tiny glass vessel filled with water that I might slake my thirst.

What should I do? A bird brought up as I had been, I reflected, could
never descend to work for a living, as the sparrows did, and other wild
birds which I had met among the trees. Some of them ate insects--fact,
I assure you--and one red-headed bird, wearing a coat of many gay
colors, simply tapped and tapped on a tree with his hard bill whenever
he wanted his dinner.

"Come in," said the bug, innocently, who was making his home between
the bark and the tree, "come in."

Nobody appearing, the bug ventured out to see who his caller might be.

"Good morning," grinned the woodpecker, and then politely gobbled the
poor bug up.

But I was not brought up that way. I could not eat bugs, neither could
I rummage in the garbage boxes as the sparrows did. Oh, how unwise of
me, and how ungrateful to run away from a home where my every need was
faithfully served by a kind mistress. Like the prodigal I would return.
Surely I would know the house, the very window from which I had fled.
Yes, I would start at once, and off I flew in the direction which I
thought I had come.

But, alas! how alike all the houses in that neighborhood seemed. Vainly
did I fly down on many a window-sill and peer in. No mistress' face
greeted me, no empty cage swung idly between the curtains. At length,
faint from hunger and fatigue, I flew down and perched upon the railing
of a porch where two ladies were sitting.

"You dear little thing," said one of the ladies--I want to say here
that I am much smaller than the dark Hartz Mountain bird who sat for
her picture--"I never saw a sparrow so tiny, or marked like you before."

"It's a canary, not a sparrow," said the other lady, "doubtless,
somebody's lost pet," and she held out her hand, and chirped and talked
to me very much like my lost mistress had done.

"Poor little wanderer," she at length said, as I looked at her, but
made no effort to fly away, "I have an idea you came to us for food,"
and then she went into the house and shortly returned with a cage in
the bottom of which she scattered seed, placing it upon the ground very
close to me.

"Rape, hemp and canary," I chirped, "the seed I am used to," and down
I at once flew, hopped into the cage, and, the next moment, was made
prisoner.

Sorry?

Well, really I don't know. My period of freedom had been so brief, and
attended with such anxiety and fear, that I hardly knew whether to
laugh or cry. The next day, however, I knew that my lines had indeed
fallen in pleasant places. My first mistress had been kind, but oh, how
much more tender and thoughtful the new one proved to be!

"I was a helpless little creature," she said, "and upon her depended my
entire comfort and happiness." Never for one day did she neglect me.
Though my regular bill-of-fare was bird-seed, yet she varied it as she
did her own. Cracker, lettuce, apples, grapes, cherries, sugar, and
always in the summer, pepper-grass. If you little folks have a canary
never fail, I beseech you, to give them of the latter all they want to
eat. It costs nothing and may be gathered in any vacant lot fresh every
day.

What pleasure so kind a mistress could find in keeping me in a little
gilt cage, I could not see, for there were screens in the window, and
even if there had not been I don't believe I should have cared to fly
away. Something in my appearance one day suggested the thought to her,
I am sure, for looking at me earnestly, she said:

"You are not happy, my birdie, I fear. Neither would I be, cooped up
in a cage like that," and so she opened wide the door and out I flew,
never to be a prisoner again--till, well, I will not speak of that just
here, but keep it for the close.

What famous times we did have after that, to be sure. Whenever I felt
lonesome down I'd fly upon the desk where my mistress sat writing. She
would pretend not to see me till I had hopped upon the very sheet over
which her pen was gliding.

"Why birdie!" she would then cry, as though very much astonished, and
off I'd fly, as she made a dash for me, to the window where I would
hide behind the ruffle of the sash curtain.

"_Cheep, cheep_," I'd cry, just as you little folks cry "whoop," when
all is ready, "_cheep, cheep_."

"Where can my birdie be?" she would say after awhile, dropping her
pen. "Where can she be?" and then she would look here and there, till
presently approaching my hiding-place, out I'd fly, with a gurgle, into
an adjoining room, where I'd again crouch behind the curtain. Between
you and me I believe she knew all the time where I was hiding and only
pretended to search for me here and there. Anyway it was capital fun,
and I never tired of it, though mistress did.

"I