Читать книгу: «Birds Illustrated by Color Photography [January, 1898]», страница 3
BOB WHITE!
I’m a game bird, not a song bird with beautiful feathers, flitting all day from tree to tree, but just a plain-looking little body, dressed in sober colors, like a Quaker.
It wouldn’t do for me to wear a red hat, and a green coat, and a yellow vest. Oh, no!, that would be very foolish of me, indeed. What a mark I would be for every man and boy who can fire a gun or throw a stone, as I run along the ground in clearings and cultivated fields. That’s the reason I wear so plain a coat. At the first glance you would take me for a bunch of dried grass or a bit of earth, but at the first movement, off I go, running for dear life to some thickly wooded cover, where I hide till danger is passed.
Cute! Yes, I think so. You would have to be sharp, too, if you were a game bird. Through the summer we don’t have much trouble, but just as soon as cold weather sets in, and our broods have grown to an eatable size, “pop” go the guns, and “whirr” go our wings as we fly through the air. It is only at such times we take wing, sometimes seeking refuge in a tree from our enemies. I’m sorry we are such nice birds – to eat – for really we like to stay around farmhouses, and barn-yards, eating with the chickens and other fowl. We are easily tamed, and the farmers often thank us for the injurious insects we eat, and the seeds of weeds.
How do we know they thank us? Why, we must know that, when they scatter seed for us on the snow. Kind deeds speak louder than words, for in the winter we suffer a great deal. Sometimes when it is very cold we burrow down under the snow, in snow-houses, as it were, to keep warm. That is risky, though; for when it rains and then freezes over, we are in a trap. A great many Quail die in this way during a hard winter.
Is Quail another name for Bob White? Yes, but people like Bob White better. Did you ever hear me whistle? If not, come out in the country in the spring, and hear me call to my mate. I sit on a fence rail, and, to let her know where I am, I whistle, Bob White! Bob White! and if she pretends to be bashful, and doesn’t answer me at once, I whistle again, Bob, Bob White! Poor Bob White! She takes pity on me then, and comes at my call.
BOB WHITE
BOB WHITE is a plump, fine-looking fellow, known in the New England and Middle States as the Quail and in the Southern States as the Partridge. It is said, however, that these names belong to other and quite different birds, and at the suggestion of Prof. Baird, Bob White, which is its call note, has become its accepted and present name. In the language of Mr. N. S. Goss these birds appear to thrive best in the presence of man, and were they protected during our cold winters, would soon become quite tame. They often nest near our dwellings. “In the spring of 1867,” says Mr. Goss, “I was shown on Owl Creek, Woodson County, Kansas, a nest containing nineteen eggs. It was placed in the dooryard, and not over twenty-five yards from the house; several dogs were running about the yard, and the house cat was purring near the doorway. Fearing the eggs would be destroyed, I suggested the building of a high, tight fence round the nest. ‘Oh,’ said the farmer, ‘that is not necessary; our cats and dogs will not harm them, for they know them well, as they have for a long time run about with the chickens, and feed with them from food thrown from the doorstep.’ I am confident that if man were as friendly to the birds as they are to man, they would soon become thoroughly domesticated. Trapped and hunted as they are with dog and gun it is not strange that as a whole they remain timid and mistrustful, and were they not naturally birds of civilization would rapidly disappear with the settlement of the country. As it is, they seem to realize that man is only at times their enemy, and that his cultivated fields afford them a safe refuge from many other enemies, and insure a more certain and bountiful supply of food than found elsewhere.”
Quails destroy injurious insects and seeds of weeds, upon which they largely feed. When startled they rise with a loud whirring sound, their flight being very swift, low, and direct, a rather laborious effort. They move about in small coveys or family groups, pairing during the nesting season, and share alike in the duties of protecting and rearing the young.
The nest is placed on the ground, in a depression, usually in the grass upon the prairies, sometimes in a thicket, under a low bush. It is usually arched over with grass, with entrance on the side.
From fifteen to twenty pure white eggs are usually laid.
S. P. Cheney pleasantly says: “Familiar as I have been with almost all parts of Vermont for more than thirty years, I have seen only one Quail in the state, and he was evidently a ‘tramp.’ I heard him just at night, the first day of July, 1884. Did not get sight of him till the next morning, when he came out into the sun, stood on the top rail of a fence, warmed himself, and whistled his spirited, forceful tune, his solid little body swelling and throbbing at every note, especially when he rose to the tonic. I was prepared for him, and made an exact copy of what he gave: Bob, Bob, White! Bob White! Bob, Bob, White! After the performance he stood, evidently listening for a reply; none came, and without another note he disappeared, to be seen no more.”
BIRDS IN THE SCHOOLS
THE movement to protect the birds of America and prevent them from being transformed into millinery in such prodigious numbers, is having a marked revival in many parts of the country, especially in the state of New York. In New York City there was recently held a large public meeting, under the auspices of the Audubon Society and the American Museum of Natural History, to protest against the wholesale and indiscriminate destruction of native birds for personal adornment. State Superintendent of Schools Skinner of that state has established a “bird day” in the public schools in connection with Arbor Day, in which the pupils will be taught the great value of birds to mankind. Mr. Skinner also has in preparation a manual upon the subject, 100,000 copies of which he will have distributed among the New York state schools.
Public ignorance regarding the value of birds in the economy of nature and especially to human life is so great as to be almost incomprehensible. A number of estimates recently made by Morris K. Jesup, President of the American Museum of Natural History, show how important it is that a stronger safe-guard, in the shape of public sentiment, should be thrown about our feathered benefactors. In a late interview upon this subject, Mr. Jesup said:
“Among the birds most worn this winter are the Herons, which are killed for their aigrettes; the Terns, or Sea Swallows and Gulls; in short mostly marsh and maritime birds.” It is known that the killing of a great number of these shore birds has been followed by an increase in human mortality among the inhabitants of the coast, the destroyed birds having formerly assisted in keeping the beaches and bayous free from decaying animal matter. New Orleans had a plague of bugs about the middle of September, just when the yellow fever began, and, strange as it may seem, the bugs proved far more troublesome than the disease, and certainly the annoyance was more immediate. The people called it a mystery, but the scientists said it was merely the result of man’s improvidence in destroying the birds. The destruction has been going on in Louisiana, particularly on the Gulf coast, for years, and has been carried on by professional hunters, who kill the birds solely for millinery purposes. Nature revenged herself on New Orleans, as she will on every place where birds are destroyed for fashionable purposes.
Would it not be a good thing to increase the intelligence of the present and rising generation respecting the value of birds by introducing into the schools of every state in the Union the idea which has been adopted by State Superintendent Skinner? And we respectfully suggest that the use of this magazine by teachers, through the wise co-operation of school boards, everywhere, as a text book, would quickly supply the knowledge of bird-life and utility so sadly needed by the community. We present some of the innocent creatures each month in accurate outline and color, and the dullest pupil cannot fail to be impressed by their beauty and the necessity for their protection. “Our schools, public and private, can hardly be criticised as instructors in the common branches of learning, but they could also teach the rising generation the equally important truths relating to the material world with which we are encircled.” In Colorado and in some other states Boards of Education have supplied their teachers with Birds in sufficient quantities to enable their pupils to study the subjects in the most profitable manner.
– C. C. Marble.
