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                           BIRDS AND NATURE.
                   ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.
  Vol. XII.                  OCTOBER, 1902.                      No. 3.




                               CONTENTS.


    AUTUMN WOODS.                                                     97
    THE PHILIPPINE SUN-BIRD. (_Cinnyris jugularis_.)                  98
        Fly, white butterflies, out to sea                            98
    THE ANIMALS’ FAIR. PART II—THE FAIR.                             101
    A DAY.                                                           104
    THE GREAT GRAY OWL. (_Scotiaptex cinerea_.)                      107
    MY SUMMER ACQUAINTANCES.                                         108
    THE BIRD OF PEACE.                                               109
    THE GREEN-CRESTED FLYCATCHER. (_Empidonax virescens_.)           110
    CHARACTER IN BIRDS.                                              113
        Frowning, the owl in the oak complained him                  116
    THE LOUISIANA WATER-THRUSH. (_Seiurus motacilla_.)               119
    SOME DOGS.                                                       120
    PECULIAR MEXICAN BREAD.                                          121
    NATURE’S GLORY.                                                  121
    LAPIS LAZULI, AMBER AND MALICHITE.                               122
    THE LEAF BUTTERFLY. (_Kallima paralekta_.)                       131
    IN AUTUMN.                                                       132
    BEAUTIFUL VINES TO BE FOUND IN OUR WILD WOODS.                   133
    SOME SNAILS OF THE OCEAN.                                        134
    JOIN A SUNRISE CLUB.                                             140
    THE TOMATO. (_Lycopersicum esculentum_.)                         143
    THE BROOK.                                                       144




                             AUTUMN WOODS.


      Ere, in the northern gale,
  The summer tresses of the trees are gone,
  The woods of Autumn, all around our vale,
      Have put their glory on.

      The mountains that infold,
  In their wide sweep, the colored landscape round,
  Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold,
      That guard the enchanted ground.

      I roam the woods that crown
  The uplands, where the mingled splendors glow,
  Where the gay company of trees look down
      On the green fields below.

      My steps are not alone
  In these bright walks; the sweet southwest, at play,
  Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown
      Along the winding way.

      And far in heaven, the while,
  The sun, that sends that gale to wander here,
  Pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile—
      The sweetest of the year.
                                                 —William Cullen Bryant.




                        THE PHILIPPINE SUN-BIRD.
                        (_Cinnyris jugularis_.)


  Darlings of children and of bard,
  Perfect kinds by vice unmarred,
  All of worth and beauty set
  Gems in Nature’s cabinet:
  These the fables she esteems
  Reality most like to dreams.
                                         —Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Nature.”

The sun-birds bear a similar relation to the oriental tropics that the
humming birds do to the warmer regions of the Western hemisphere. Both
have a remarkably brilliant plumage which is in harmony with the
gorgeous flowers that grow in the tropical fields. It is probable that
natives of Asia first gave the name sun-birds to these bright creatures
because of their splendid and shining plumage. By the Anglo-Indians they
have been called hummingbirds, but they are perching birds while the
hummingbirds are not. There are over one hundred species of these birds.
They are graceful in all their motions and very active in their habits.
Like the hummingbirds, they flit from flower to flower, feeding on the
minute insects which are attracted by the nectar, and probably to some
extent on the honey, for their tongues are fitted for gathering it.
However, their habit while gathering food is unlike that of the
hummingbird, for they do not hover over the flower, but perch upon it
while feeding. The plumage of the males nearly always differs very
strongly from that of the females. The brilliantly colored patches are
unlike those of the hummingbirds for they blend gradually and are not
sharply contrasted, though the iridescent character is just as marked.
The bills are long and slender, finely pointed and curved. The edges of
the mandibles are finely serrated.

The nests are beautiful structures suspended from the end of a bough or
even from the underside of a leaf. The entrance is near the top and
usually on the side. Over the entrance a projecting portico is often
constructed. The outside of the nest is usually covered with coarse
materials, apparently to give the effect of a pile of rubbish. Two eggs
are usually laid in these cozy homes, but in rare instances three have
been found. The Philippine Sun-bird of our illustration is a native of
the Philippines and is found on nearly all the islands from Luzon to
Mindanao. The throat of the male has a beautiful iridescence shaded with
green, while that of the female, shown on the nest, is yellow.


  Fly, white butterflies, out to sea,
  Frail pale wings for the winds to try;
  Small white wings that we scarce can see
  Here and there may a chance-caught eye
        Fly.
  Note, in a score of you, twain or three
  Brighter or darker of tinge or dye;
  Some fly light as a laugh of glee,
  Some fly soft as a long, low sigh:
  All to the haven where each would be—
        Fly.
                                                             —Swinburne.

          [Illustration: PHILIPPINE YELLOW-BREASTED SUN-BIRD.
                         (Cinnyris jugularis).
                               Life-size.
                    FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.]




                           THE ANIMALS’ FAIR.
                           PART II—THE FAIR.


Days and weeks of busy preparation rolled around and promptly at the
appointed time the Animals’ Fair opened in splendor.

A large football field had been secured for the show, and a striking
sight met the eyes of curious men, women and children, who crowded
through the gates on the opening day.

Two immense St. Bernard dogs had been appointed gatekeepers, and the
human crowd were uncommonly respectful and subdued as they paid their
entrance fee of a handful of grain or a juicy bone and passed these
representatives of animal law.

The first thing to attract the eye as one entered the Fair was a large
band stand which was occupied by a band of monkeys in red coats and
caps, who made up in quantity what their music lacked in quality, and
went through their performance with a decorum unexcelled by more musical
organizations.

The monkeys found themselves more at home in their booth, which, was
near the grand stand, the entrance fee to which was a small sack of
peanuts. Here the delighted human audience watched an unequaled show of
daring rope and trapeze performances, of acrobatic feats which none but
“four-handed” artists were able to accomplish, and of comical antics
such as only monkeys can go through. The excited children screamed with
laughter and showered peanuts upon the performers, who, following their
instincts, forgot their scheduled program and joined in a wild rush and
squabble over the unexpected treat. Such little episodes were soon over,
however, and the entertainment and forgotten dignity were resumed
together.

Next to the monkeys’ booth was one occupied by geese, ducks and
peacocks, and was one which deserves especial mention. It was
elaborately decorated with garlands of feather flowers dyed in all the
colors of the rainbow, hung against a background of snowy white
feathers. On each side stood a peacock with gorgeous tail outspread,
showing to lovely effect against the white walls behind them. Pillows
and cushions of softest feathers, festoons of snowy down trimmings,
quills and wings and breasts for millinery purposes, feather boas,
feather brushes and dusters, quill pens and quill toothpicks were
displayed to greatest advantage and offered for sale for a small sum of
wheat or corn.

The hogs came next with a large and elaborate display, which included
strings of sausages and Dewey hams, huge glass jars of snowy lard, hams
and bacon put up in fancy ways, and piles of canned pork and deviled
ham. In another part of the booth were brushes of all kinds made from
hog bristles, soaps manufactured from otherwise unsalable parts of hog
anatomy, saddles and other leather goods made from the hides, and—in a
conspicuous position—a great pile of inflated pigskin footballs, which
caught the eye of every schoolboy who came near the booth.

“Young man,” grunted one of the boothkeepers to a boy who was examining
this pile of balls, “young man, never despise a hog nor deride him for
his slowness. There is nothing more lively than a pigskin when properly
inflated. It is a thing for the possession of which the representatives
of the largest colleges are proud to contend, and he is the hero of the
day who carries the pigskin to a winning touchdown. Why, college
students will leave their books behind them, will cast aside the
cultivation of their brains for the glory of chasing the pigskin over a
muddy field. They will sacrifice life itself in its pursuit and count
broken limbs and bloody noses as badges of honor. Take my advice. Buy a
pigskin football and enter at once upon the path of glory.”

It is hardly necessary to add that this sale, and many like it, were
made during the progress of the Fair.

The booth of the wild birds was the most beautiful one in the whole
display. It was gotten up to represent a forest glade, with shadowy
aisles and leafy retreats. Its carpet was made of grasses and moss and
ferns and flowers. A little fountain cast its waters into a tiny pool,
where birds dipped their wings or quenched their thirst. Dainty nests
were built in many curious ways, some hanging from the branches, others
hiding beneath the grasses or sheltered by the leaves. A myriad of
brilliant birds flitted through this miniature paradise, the bluebird,
the redbird, the orange and black oriole, the scarlet tanager, golden
canaries and many others, making up a flashing bouquet of color.

Then there were solos, and duets, and grand concerts, when thrush and
lark and canary and redbird and warbler joined their voices in a great
gush of melody through which ran the liquid trills and cadenzas of
mocking-bird and nightingale. The quail piped his “Bob White” from the
ferns and grasses; and the parrot—as clown of the occasion—imitated the
human voice in comically jerky efforts.

Along the front of the booth were displayed rows of bottles filled with
every imaginable kind of bug and worm which the industrious birds had
gathered from orchards and fields, and which were exhibited as proof of
the invaluable aid which the birds give to man.

The cattle display was next on the list—a notable one, and attractive to
every man and woman. There were noble representatives from every breed
of cattle, with the most beautiful, gentle-eyed calves that were ever
seen. There was a tempting display of great glass jars of rich milk and
yellow cream, huge cheeses and golden butter balls, daintily molded
curds and glasses of whey. There was a free tank of delicious iced
buttermilk, which was continually surrounded by a thirsty crowd who
drank as if they had never tasted buttermilk before.

Then there were countless varieties of fancy articles made from horn and
bone, pots of glue, cans of neatsfoot oil, and leather goods of every
possible description.

There was dressed beef, and jerked beef, and dried beef, and potted and
canned and corned and deviled and roasted. There was oxtail soup, and
blood pudding, and cakes of suet, and stacks of tallow candles. There
were hides tanned into soft carriage robes and rugs; there were bottles
of rennet tablets; there were fancy colored bladders, and bunches of
shoestrings. In short, the articles contained in this display were
beyond enumeration in a short account like this.

The dogs came next with a wonderful display of fancy breeds, of trick
dogs and trained dogs, of dogs little and big, varying from the shaggy
Eskimo to the skinny little hairless Mexican, and from the huge St.
Bernard to the tiny terrier. The Newfoundlands gave a life-saving
exhibition every day, wherein monkeys dressed as people were rescued
from the water or from buildings supposed to be on fire.

The St. Bernards dragged frozen traveler monkeys from snowbanks of
cotton and carried them on their backs to places of safety.

Cute puppies and clumsy puppies went through their antics for the
amusement of the children and rolled unconcernedly over beautiful
carriage rugs which were labeled “Japanese Wolfskin.”

The sheep and goats had a booth together, wherein was a marvelous
display of wools and woolen goods, yarns, pelts, angora furs, kid
gloves, kid shoes, rugs, carpets and blankets.

There were ropes of goats’ hair which water could not destroy, and wigs
which were destined to cover the heads of learned judges and barristers.

There was a wonderful red tally-ho coach, drawn by four snow-white goats
driven by a monkey dressed as a coachman, which made the circuit of the
Fair grounds every afternoon, while monkey passengers made the air
lively and cleared the way by the loud notes of their tin horns. This
exhibition set the children wild, and parents were daily teased to buy
the charming turnout for the use of their little human monkeys.

The cats had a display which met with the highest favor from their
little girl visitors. Here were beautiful pussies of every kind and
color, with coats as soft and shiny as silk. There were numbers of the
cunningest kittens, which rolled and tumbled and went through their most
graceful motions to the unending delight of the little spectators.

This booth was gaily festooned with strings of mice and rats, caught up
here and there by small rabbits, gophers and moles.

There was a string band that played in this booth every afternoon to
demonstrate the superiority of cat-gut strings over those made of silk
or wire, as used on violins, mandolins, guitars and all other stringed
instruments. They never failed to announce that their bows were strung
with the finest of horsehair which had been supplied by the horses whose
booth was farther down the grounds.

The horses attracted every eye and aroused much discussion among the
visitors as to whether horses would ever be entirely superseded by
automobiles and electric engines.

The children went into ecstacies over the Shetland ponies, and the
ladies declared the Arabian horses “too lovely for anything.”

Every boy who visited this booth was presented with a baseball covered
with the best of horsehide leather.

But time fails me to tell of all the wonderful things which this Fair
presented to the eyes of admiring men. On one point only was
dissatisfaction expressed by the visitors—there was no Midway. President
Monkey, when interviewed by a representative of the Associated Press in
regard to the omission, made the following remarkable statement:

“No, it was not a matter of oversight. The camel volunteered to bring
some of his Arabs to establish the Streets of Cairo, and some of the
monkeys were anxious to put in a Gay Paris display. The lions wished to
bring some trained Wild Men of Borneo for a Hagenbeck show, and the
snakes wanted to do jugglery. You can see that there was no lack of what
misguided people call ‘attractions.’

“The management discussed the Midway from every point of view, and
decided that it was entirely too low grade for a first-class
entertainment such as we desired to make. We felt that it would only
attract a rough class of visitors, whose presence we did not desire. And
so the unanimous decision was, ‘We will have a good, clean, respectable
show or we will have no show at all.’

“No, sir. Say emphatically in your dispatches that the Midway was
intentionally omitted. Such things may do for men, but beasts will have
none of them.”

The Fair was in every way a success, being carried through without
disturbance of any kind and coming out free of debt and with much legal
tender in the treasury.

Men were so much impressed by the obligations which they owed to the
animal world that there was a decided improvement in their treatment of
its various representatives. While this state of affairs cannot be
expected to last long, the animals have learned how to arouse such
respect and have decided to make the Animal Fair an annual attraction.

                                                     Mary McCrae Culter.




                                 A DAY.


  In the morning the path by the river
    Sent me a messenger bird,—
  “I’m all by myself and lonely,
    Come,” as I waked I heard.

  I walked the path by the water,
    Till a daisy spoke and said,
  “I am so tired of shining;
    Why don’t you pat my head?”

  So I kissed and fondled the daisy,
    Till the clover upon the lea
  Said, “It is time for eating,
    Spread your luncheon on me.”

  But first I went to the orchard,
    And gathered the fruit that hung,
  Before I answered the green-sward,
    Where the clovery grasses swung.

  Then the rocks on the hill-side called me,
    And the flowers beside the way,
  And I talked with the oaks and maples
    Till Night was threatening Day.

  Then I knelt at the foot of the sunset,
    And laid thereon my prayer,
  And the angels, star-crowned, hurried
    To carry it up the stair.

  And this was the plea I put there:
    Make me so pure and good
  That I shall be worthy the friendship
    Of river, and field, and wood.
                                                       Lucia Belle Cook.

                     [Illustration: GREAT GRAY OWL.
                         (Scotiaptex cinerea).
                              ⅓ Life-size.
                    FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.]




                          THE GREAT GRAY OWL.
                        (_Scotiaptex cinerea_.)


  Through Mossy and viny vistas
    Soaked ever with deepest shade,
  Dimly the dull owl stared and stared
    From his bosky ambuscade.
                            —James Whitcomb Riley, “A Vision of Summer.”

The Great Gray or Cinereous Owl is the largest of the American owls. The
appearance of great size, however, is due to its thick and fluffy
plumage. Its body is very small being only slightly larger than those of
the barred or hoot owl. The eggs are also said to be small when compared
with the size of the bird.

The range of this handsome Owl is practically confined to the most
northern regions of North America, where it breeds from the latitude of
Hudson Bay northward as far as forests extend. In the winter it is more
or less migratory, the distance that it travels southward seeming to
depend solely on the severity of the season. It has been captured in
several of the northern United States, from the Atlantic to the Pacific
Oceans. It is related in “The Hawks and Owls of the United States,” that
“Dr. Dall considers it a stupid bird and states that sometimes it may be
caught in the hands. Its great predilection for thick woods, in which it
dwells doubtless to the very limit of trees, prevents it from being an
inhabitant of the barren grounds or other open country in the north. It
is crepuscular or slightly nocturnal in the southern parts of its range,
but in the high north it pursues its prey in the daytime. In the latter
region, where the sun never passes below the horizon in summer, it is
undoubtedly necessity and not choice that prompts it to be abroad in the
daylight.” Its yellow eyes are very small and would indicate day-hunting
proclivities.

Dr. A. K. Fisher states that its “food seems to consist principally of
hares, mice and others of the smaller mammals as well as small birds.”
Dr. W. H. Dall has taken “no less than thirteen skulls and other remains
of red-poll linnets from the crop of a single bird.” Specimens in
captivity are reported to have relished a diet of fish.

Its nest is described as a coarse structure built in the taller trees
and composed of twigs and lined with moss and feathers. The note of this
great bird is said to be “a tremulous, vibrating sound, somewhat
resembling that of the screech owl.”

The Great Gray Owl is also known as the Great Sooty Owl and the Spectral
Owl. Its generic title, Scotiaptex, is from two Greek words, one meaning
darkness and the other to frighten.

The dignified mien of this great bird may well have been the inspiration
that caused the poet to say,

  Art thou, grave bird! so wondrous wise indeed?
    Speak freely, without fear of jest or gibe—
  What is thy moral and religious creed?
    And what the metaphysics of thy tribe?




                        MY SUMMER ACQUAINTANCES.


I spent last summer in a quiet, old country place where my only near
neighbors were the birds, rabbits and squirrels, but I formed many
pleasant acquaintances among these, and the dearest among them was a
pair of little goldfinches that built their nest in the topmost bough of
a young pear tree that overshadowed the porch where I spent a great part
of my time.

I did not discover the nest until the little ones were already hatched.
The early June days had been cloudy and cool and had kept me shut in, so
I did not have the pleasure of watching my little neighbors build their
home. The nest was so carefully hidden among the leafy boughs that no
one would have suspected it was there. My attention was first arrested
to it one morning by the faint cries of young birds, and on looking up I
saw a little goldfinch perched on the topmost bough of the pear tree,
bending fondly over what I knew must be the nest. She lingered but a
moment and then darted away to an apple tree near by, where I discovered
her mate. He was a tiny little fellow, not much larger than she, but his
jacket seemed a brighter yellow and his head and the tips of his wings a
glossier black. They rested a moment, seemingly in earnest conversation,
then both darted away to a thicket of tall grass and weeds that grew
along the banks of a creek that ran near by.

It was but a few moments until the little mother was back again and in
her tiny yellow beak I saw the dainty morsel she was carrying to the
hungry little family.

All day long, back and forth, from the nest to the thicket she flew, but
the hungry little ones never seemed to be satisfied. The father bird did
not come very often, and I wondered if he was spending his time in
idleness or seeking pleasure for himself, while the poor, little mother
was working so arduously for the support of the family. But I hardly
think this was the case, for he always came from this same thicket and
they always seemed confidential and happy. He would rest himself
daintily on some branch overlooking the nest, and with many quips and
turns watch the mother as she fed the hungry little ones. Sometimes he
would bring food himself and then they would fly away together. I think
he was searching for the food and probably gathering it, for sometimes
Mistress Goldfinch would be gone but a moment until she would return
with the food.

Every day the same scenes were repeated, only the cries of the little
ones grew more clamorous, and I could see their gaping mouths as they
stretched their necks, each one trying to convince the mother that he
was the hungriest bird in the nest. The little mother was always patient
and loving—what a lesson to us who so often chafe and fret under the
petty trials of every day life! As the days went by the young birds grew
bolder and I could see their little yellow bodies as they fluttered and
pushed themselves near the edge of the nest, and I knew that there would
soon be an empty nest in the pear tree.

It was one afternoon, about ten days after I discovered the nest, that
the lessons in flying began. The father and mother would fly from the
nest to some twig a few feet from the nest and then back again, then
from twig to twig with many little chirps as if saying, “Don’t you see
how easy it is? All you have to do is to try.” Then the boldest little
fellow would perch himself on the edge of the nest, flutter his little
wings, sit still for a minute, and then roll back into the nest as if it
was too much for him. Then the father and mother would repeat the
lesson, but all in vain that afternoon, so they finally gave up and went
in search of food. The next morning the lessons began in earnest, and
then the bold little youngster, who had made so many pretentions the
afternoon before, grew bolder and with a nervous little flutter and a
sidewise plunge landed on a twig some few feet below the nest. He rested
a few moments and then, with a few encouraging chirps from his parents,
tried it again with better results. One by one the other timid
fledglings were induced to follow him. There were many tumbles and
falls, but the little mother was always there to encourage and help, and
by afternoon the little home was deserted. They staid a few days in the
trees near by and then flew away to seek new homes, and all that was
left to remind me of the happy family was the empty nest in the leafy
bough.

                                                     Ellen Hampton Dick.




                           THE BIRD OF PEACE.


The dove, bearing an olive branch, is, in Christian art, an emblem of
peace. The early churches used vessels of precious metal fashioned in
the shape of a dove in which to place the holy sacrament, no doubt
because the Holy Spirit descended upon Christ in the form of a dove.

Noah’s dove, of still older fame, was immortalized as a constellation in
the sky.

The plaintive “coo” of the dove has also added to the sentiment about
it. The poets delight to refer to it as a sorrowful bird. One of them
says:

  “Oft I heard the tender dove
  In fiery woodlands making moan.”

The dove, “most musical, most melancholy,” is the singer whom the
mocking bird does not attempt to imitate.

There is a Philippine legend that of all birds only the dove understands
the human tongue. The pigeon tribe is noted for its friendliness to man—

  “Of all the feathered race
  Alone it looks unscared on the human face.”

The word dove means “diver” and refers to the way this bird ducks its
head.

It has purposely designed “wing whistles” and often strikes the wings
together when beginning to fly.

The broken wing dodge it often practices tends to prove that its
ancestors built on the ground.

The nest of the dove has no architectural beauty and it is not a good
housekeeper, and is something of a gad-about. Indeed, doves are not so
gentle in character as they are usually portrayed. They are