Читать книгу: «Birds and Nature Vol. 9 No. 5 [May 1901]», страница 2

A BIRD-JOKE AT LEAFY LAWN

In early spring Robin Redbreast returned to Leafy Lawn and selected a new site for his nest in the same apple tree his father and grandfather had occupied during preceding summers. No other birds had yet arrived and Robin jumped about on the sprouting lawn master of all he surveyed.

He soon discovered to his sorrow that those selfish, quarrelsome sparrows who tormented the birds last summer and drove away the wrens, had gone no farther during the winter than to the eaves of a near barn, and were already back to their nest in the tall poplar, scolding and threatening as disagreeably as ever. But Robin noticed that the limb which held their nest so high was dead and he hoped a strong wind would dash limb, nest and ugly sparrows all to the ground.

Robin looked very handsome in his crimson vest, hopping over the grass in a scalloped path, with his modest little mate following in a similar path beside him. Suddenly they stopped and listened.

“Surely that is Mr. Woodpecker pounding on the tin roof-drain,” said Robin; and Mrs. Robin looked about curiously and spied Mrs. Woodpecker on a near tree listening to her husband’s wonderful drumming. Mrs. Woodpecker was thinking what a fine nest such a strong husband could cut out and what quantities of corn and nuts he could hammer into the bark of the trees for an extra food supply. In a very short time the woodpeckers selected the balm-of-Gilead tree by the gate for their home and the work began of cutting and tossing the tiny shavings and so making a hole large enough to accommodate Mrs. Woodpecker while she sat over the ivory eggs waiting the day of their hatching.

Mr. Woodpecker was recognized as king of Leafy Lawn, perhaps because of his lordly manner and fine clothes. He always wore a jet black coat and white satin vest, and what was queer on a king, a large scarlet bonnet.

A few days after the arrival of the Woodpeckers, Robin saw Mr. Blue Jay making a circuitous route to the tall pine and he knew the Jays had located there. Though Mr. Blue Jay was always cautious, trying to deceive every one concerning the whereabouts of his home, he himself knew every other nest in the yard.

So persistent was he in patrolling Leafy Lawn, jumping from tree to tree and from branch to branch, reporting his presence, and in case of danger threatening, squawking so loudly and repeatedly, that it was agreed, as he already had a blue uniform, that he should be the policeman for this precinct.

There came a day early in the season when Mr. Woodpecker, Robin Redbreast and Mr. Blue Jay all assembled within speaking distance on the lower branches of a silver maple tree and excitedly discussed the arrival of a number of birds which they had heard early that morning but had been unable to find.

“My wife,” said Robin, “awakened me from the twig near her nest, where I usually sleep and keep guard, and she said that one of our kin had arrived for she had heard a voice exactly like mine from the plum tree. Hoping it was one of my brothers I searched eagerly until sunrise, and though I heard him twice I could not find him.”

Mr. Blue Jay was more excited than before and turned about, twitched his tail violently, scolded and sputtered that he had had just such an experience and he believed the sparrows had added witchcraft to their other sins and were trying to hoodoo the birds of Leafy Lawn.

A frightened sparrow overheard this accusation and came near enough to protest that they were not guilty and had been themselves trying in vain to find their newly-arrived English relatives, whom they had believed they heard that morning.

Mr. Woodpecker said it might be no personal affair of his as he had heard no drumming nor mocking of his song, but if Leafy Lawn were to be occupied by kildares, bobolinks, meadow larks and blackbirds he thought there would be scarce picking of worms, bugs or seeds for the old settlers who were the rightful possessors of these premises and it was a serious condition of things. In closing his pompous speech he shook his scarlet bonnet furiously, smoothed his waistcoat and jumped upon a higher limp and called off his “chit-it-it-it-it-it” so shrill and high that his companions were for the moment alarmed lest he should split his throat. But he stopped as suddenly as he had begun, and upon the silence that followed the birds heard, as surely as they saw the blossoms on the apple trees, the song of the thrush.

“It is undoubtedly a hobgoblin,” hoarsely whispered Mr. Woodpecker, “for Mr. Blue Jay swore to me this morning that during the seasons he and his ancestors have patrolled this lawn never have they seen a thrush even alight here.”

It was decided that the three birds make one more immediate and thorough search for the monster hobgoblin which infested the Lawn.

Imagine their chagrin when they saw tilting upon the unleaved twig of a late catalpa tree a modest little gray bird with keen, bright eyes, who commenced a garble of all their songs called off in such merriment that the birds could not but appreciate the sport. Then the stranger, who was no other than Mr. Cat-bird, a cousin to the brown mocking-bird of the south, gave a weird cry exactly like a cat’s meow which so frightened the birds they flew hastily away to their several homes.

Mr. Cat-bird was welcomed to Leafy Lawn, for his beautiful voice was an esteemed acquisition to the morning chorus, but he could not deceive the birds again with his imitative songs.

Many a time, however, he would sit upon the corner of the house roof and perpetrate his joke on the boy in the hammock below, who thought he knew much about birds, but who could not understand why, when he heard so many different voices, there was only a little gray cat-bird within sight.

Gertrude Southwick Kingsland.

THE RUSTY BLACKBIRD OR GRACKLE

(Scolecophagus carolinus.)

Unlike the other blackbirds and our common orioles the Rusty Blackbird must not be sought in the orchards and fields of our farms and waysides, but in our forests and the heavily wooded banks of mountain streams and lakes. In such places this retiring bird passes the breeding season and raises its family in quiet solitude. It even seems to shun the company of its own kind and, unlike the red-winged blackbird, is seldom seen in large flocks. It is only in the spring that we may observe even small flocks from “whence issues a confused medley of whistles, sweeter and higher-pitched than the best efforts of the redwings.” Captain Charles Bendire says: “The ordinary call note sounds like ‘tehack, tehack,’ several times repeated; another like ‘turnlee, turnlee, turnlee,’ uttered in a clear tone and varied occasionally to ‘trallahee, trallahee.’”

Few birds exhibit a more happy disposition. They seem always to be perfectly satisfied with their surroundings. One writer, quietly watching them, gathered in the trees about him, says that “The wind whistled loudly through the branches above, but these lively fellows began a serenade so joyous and full of gleeful abandon that I lingered long to hear them. In singing they opened the bill widely and the throat swelled with melody. Their notes are rich, varied and energetic. They are almost constantly in motion, chasing each other or flying from perch to perch, singing merrily most of the time.”

The Rusty Blackbird has a wide range. It is more common in the eastern portion of North America from Florida and the Gulf of Mexico northward to the northern limit of the forests. Westward, though constantly decreasing in numbers as the distance increases from the Atlantic coast, it is found as far as the great plains and very rarely on the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains. It frequents practically the whole forest area of British America from the Atlantic to the Pacific ocean. Mr. E. W. Nelson says: “I found it abundant at the Yukon mouth, where the widely extended areas of bush grown country offered suitable shelter and where it consequently nested in considerable numbers.”

Their nesting range covers the whole of British America, but in the United States it is restricted to a comparatively small area. Its nests have only been reported as occurring in portions of New England and in the wild Adirondack forests. In winter it makes its home in the Middle and Southern States. At this time, from necessity, it is often seen around barn and stock yards, feeding on the grain that has been dropped by the cattle.

During the summer season the Rusty Blackbird depends almost entirely on animal life for its food, eating caterpillars, moths and other insects, worms, snails and spiders, also eating, to a limited extent, wild berries.

The nest of the Rusty Blackbird is large and substantially constructed. It is generally placed in cone-bearing trees and is seldom more than ten feet from the ground. As a rule, trees growing in swampy and rather inaccessible places are selected. The base of the nest “is principally composed of sphagnum moss and earth, forming a firm, hard platform on which the nest proper is built. This is thickly covered on the outside with small tamarack and spruce twigs, mixed with a few blades of grass, pieces of fern and long green moss, especially at the base. The inner cup is thickly and neatly lined with fine bright green grass.” These blackbirds are not quarrelsome and are devoted parents, both sexes assisting in the care of the young, which are able to leave the nest in about fifteen or sixteen days. Our illustration shows the fall and winter plumage of the male. During the breeding season the plumage is a glossy bluish black.

WHAT EVOLUTION MEANS

If any person devoted his time to the correction of popular errors, there is no probability that he would have any spare moments for eating or sleeping. The serious aspect of the present condition of popular knowledge, however, is the apparent absence of desire upon the part of many young people to grasp the principles of natural science. I am not exaggerating when I say that there are plenty of fairly educated persons in every large city who deny that man is an animal, and who insist that a whale must be a fish, because it lives in the sea.

Everybody professes to be aware in a sort of unconscious way that the theory of Evolution was invented by Mr. Darwin, and patented by Mr. Spencer, the most important points in the doctrine being that all men are descended from monkeys which had lost their tails, that the fittest survived, and that there is a “missing link” between man and his ancestors.

These ideas have little foundation in fact. Darwin no more discovered Evolution than Edison discovered electricity; we are not descended from any existing ape, with or without a tail, and no competent person ever asserted that we were; and there are good reasons for saying that such palaeontological “links” as are missing are not of the greatest possible importance. In short, whatever is evolutionary in the popular mind, is a burlesque upon the evolutionist’s true opinions.

Charles Darwin was born in 1809, on the same day as Lincoln, but, long before Darwin’s time, evolution had become a recognized force in science. Kant, who lived from 1724 to 1804, and Laplace (1749-1827) had worked out the development of the sun and the planets from white-hot gas. Lyell (1797-1875) had worked out the evolution of the earth’s surface to its present condition; and Lamarck (1744-1829) had shown that there is evidence of the descent of all animals, as well as all plants, from a few ancestors by gradual modification. Again, Herbert Spencer, during Darwin’s lifetime, began to work out the growth of mind from the most simple beginnings to the highest development of human thought.

The philosophies of the ancients were all of them founded upon limited observation; they were merely speculative fancy-pictures evolved from the author’s own consciousness. Modern science, however, is of quite a different character. It has relegated certain fundamental propositions to a region called “the Unknowable” (this means at present unknowable), and it permits everybody to explain these propositions by means of any hypotheses which may occur to him. In other words, modern science does not deal with such phenomena as are at the present day outside the range of the human intellect; and I venture to warn the reader that speculation concerning matters upon which we have as yet no scientific data is waste of time. Modern science is founded upon investigation and observation, and the evidence is always weighed as carefully and as impartially as are the statements of witnesses in a law court.

One naturally asks: “What is Evolution?” “Continuous change according to certain fixed laws,” is a reply which may have some value, although it is quite insufficient. A technical definition, given by Mr. Spencer, is as follows:

“An integration of matter and concomitant dissipation of motion, during which the matter passes from an indefinite, incoherent heterogeneity, to a definite, coherent homogeneity, and during which the retained motion undergoes a parallel transformation.” Anybody who will think about this definition will be able to appreciate its meaning, provided a good dictionary is at hand.

Evolution is not another word for Development, and Mr. Spencer has carefully distinguished the one from the other; but the details are too technical for notice in this paper. Evolution may be regarded as “a general term for the history of the steps by which any living being has acquired the morphological and physiological characters which distinguish it.” Development is “the process of differentiation by which the primitively similar parts of a living body become more and more unlike one another.” Both definitions are Huxley’s.

The evolution of organic matter now claims attention in detail. Of the origin of first life, we know absolutely nothing. The doctrine of Evolution does not deal with that. There are, however, many hypotheses upon the subject. Lord Kelvin, the eminent physicist, has suggested that unicellular life may have been transferred to this globe from a wrecked planet. This hypothesis obviously aids us very little, for it merely transfers the original scene of action to some other world. Personally, I prefer the idea that the first protoplasm was produced by the action of the sun upon inorganic matter not unlike the colloids, and that it “fed upon the previous steps in its own evolution.” In this connection, I may say that two points are certain – viz., that vegetable life preceded animal life, and that the first forms of life were mere specks of jelly, without organs. Can these primitive specks be created at the present time? Or, in other words, can protoplasm be manufactured by artificial processes? The answer must be No; not by any process now known, although a great number of experiments have been made with the object of manufacturing unicellular vegetable life. During the years between 1870 and 1880, this question was thoroughly thrashed out, and at first the balance seemed to be very evenly held between the supporters and the opponents of spontaneous generation. The investigations of the late Professor Tyndall, however, conclusively proved that biogenesis, that is, all life from previous life, is the condition at the present day. But I must add Huxley’s words of warning, viz., “that with organic chemistry, molecular physics, and physiology yet in their infancy, and every day making prodigious strides, it would be the height of presumption for any man to say that the conditions under which matter assumes the qualities called vital, may not some day be artificially brought together.” And further, “that as a matter not of proof but of probability, if it were given me to look beyond the abyss of geologically recorded time, to the still more remote period when the earth was passing through chemical and physical conditions which it can never see again, I should expect to be a witness of the evolution of living protoplasm from nonliving matter.”

The first protoplasm must be extremely ancient, for the remains of sea-weeds are found in the oldest strata, and vegetation implies the manufacture of protoplasm from inorganic matter.

When the earth was in the condition to which Huxley referred, the constantly decreasing heat, and the recurrence of the seasons produced, by slow degrees, changes in the congenital character of the forms of life. Every individual varied somewhat from its predecessors, and those forms which possessed variations most suitable to the environment were the ones which eventually survived. The transition from the protophyta, the lowest class of vegetable life, to the protozoa, the lowest class of animal life, must have been a very simple matter in the condition in which the earth then was. Indeed, today the difference between the lowest microscopic animals and the lowest microscopic plants is by no means clearly defined.

Innumerable hosts of life made their appearance upon our planet while the surface was going through the cooling process, and they were, at first, of course, of the most primitive kind. But the same laws were always at work, viz., no two living things were exactly alike when they made their appearance upon this earth, although the differences between several forms might be very slight. Variation was, and is, the order of the day.