Stories of Birds Part 21

"They shall have the very choicest grains and bugs and gra.s.shoppers.

There will soon be no time for singing."

"But when the little ones are grown--" said Phyllis.

"Oh, yes, then I will sing again for you. But listen, Phyllis!"

Phyllis heard a sweet little "c.h.i.n.k! c.h.i.n.k! c.h.i.n.k!"

"My little mate is calling," gurgled the bobolink, flying away and leaving the gra.s.s-top swaying wildly.

ROBERT OF LINCOLN

Merrily swinging on brier and weed, Near to the nest of his little dame, Over the mountainside or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name.

"Bobolink, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Snug and safe is that nest of ours, Hidden among the summer flowers, Chee, chee, chee!"

Robert of Lincoln is gaily drest, Wearing a bright black wedding-coat, White are his shoulders and white his crest.

Hear him call in his merry note: "Bobolink, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Look what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine!

Chee, chee, chee!"

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet in plain brown wings, Pa.s.sing at home a patient life, Broods in the gra.s.s while her husband sings: "Bobolink, bob-o-link, Spink, spank, spink; Brood, kind creature, you need not fear Thieves and robbers while I am here!

Chee, chee, chee!"

--Bryant.

ALL ABOUT THE BOBOLINK OR RICEBIRD

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS

Male arrives north middle of May.--Female comes some ten or twelve days later--travel generally by night and in flocks.--Flies south from August to October.

Song is most musical and sweet, expressing joy and careless happiness--the song of the female is but a short, sweet "c.h.i.n.k, c.h.i.n.k."--While the young are being cared for, the male does not sing as he does earlier in the season, but takes up the plaintive "c.h.i.n.k" of his mate.

Male in spring is black with pale yellow markings on back and wings and tail. Yellow spot on back of neck--a patch of white on breast and other white markings.

Female pale yellow beneath--upper parts generally brown--two dark stripes on top of the head. In autumn plumage of male resembles female.

Nest of gra.s.ses well hidden by thick leaves and stems.--Usually built in clump of gra.s.ses and always on the ground and very shallow.

Eggs are pale blue with dark brown spots.--Four or five in number.--Young birds when fully feathered are so alike that in a flock young cannot be distinguished from old.

THE SEA-DOVES

AND THE

GREAT BLUE HERON

[Ill.u.s.tration: Great Blue Heron]

BESIDE THE SEA

One hot August day Phyllis went to the seash.o.r.e to live.

"Such fun," she cried, as the train drew up at the seaside station.

"Such fun as I shall have playing in the sand and wading in the water."

It was not half an hour before she was running along the beach beside the cliffs. Her feet were bare, and she wriggled her toes in the sand and splashed into the puddles of water.

Presently she saw a number of little birds running along the beach and flying over the water.

"How swiftly they fly, and how well they dive," she said. "How easily they swim, and they sometimes settle on the waves and rest. I wish they would come nearer!"

"I will tell you about them," said a solemn voice near by. Phyllis stumbled in her surprise and splashed the water into her eyes. When she could see again, a great blue heron was standing near.

"Oh!" cried Phyllis, a bit frightened. "It is strange that I did not see you. Yes, do tell me about the little sea-bird--and about yourself also!"

So the blue heron drew his head down between his shoulders, and, standing on one leg, told Phyllis what he knew of the little sea-doves.

"That little bird with brown back and white breast loves the sea," said the heron. "He is never tired of the blue waves.

"In stormy weather the little sea-dove is most happy, because it is then that the waves are laden with small fish and crabs. During stormy weather the little fisherman grows fat.

"Watch them as they fly. Do you see how they are constantly dipping their bills into the water? That is their way of fis.h.i.+ng.

"The sea-doves' nests are among the cliffs. In them they lay just two bluish-white little eggs.

"Sometimes, when the winds are very strong, the sea-doves are blown far inland. Sometimes they find their way back to the sea. But there are other times when they do not return."

"And where is your own nest, O Great Blue Heron?" asked Phyllis, half laughing at the queer, long-legged bird.

"It is over yonder on a rock," said the heron. "There are now four dull blue-green eggs in the nest.

"Soon there will be four ugly, helpless birdlings, who will sit up and cry for food. It will be at least three weeks after they are hatched before they will try to wade out into these flat sea-marshes. I shall have to let no fish escape me, if I do not wish the fledglings to starve."

"You do not think your babies pretty?" asked Phyllis.

"No," said the heron, truthfully, "they are not even so good-looking as other birds' babies. But that I do not mind, for will they not some day be as beautiful as I myself?"

"Yes," said Phyllis, "I have seen your picture many a time. In mother's room is a large screen and on it is your likeness embroidered in silks. The long green gra.s.ses are growing about you in the picture.

One foot is drawn up and your head is drawn down between your shoulders just as it now is."