Birds and Bees, Sharp Eyes, and Other Papers | Page 7

or molest him, or utter any outcries at his presence, as
they usually do at birds of prey. Probably it is because the shrike is a
rare visitant, and is not found in this part of the country during the
nesting season of our songsters.
But the birds have nearly all found out the trick the jay, and when he
comes sneaking through the trees in May and June in quest of eggs, he
is quickly exposed and roundly abused. It is amusing to see the robins
hustle him out of the tree which holds their nest. They cry "Thief,
thief!" to the top of their voices as they charge upon him, and the jay
retorts in a voice scarcely less complimentary as he makes off.
The jays have their enemies also, and need to keep an eye on their own
eggs. It would be interesting to know if jays ever rob jays, or crows
plunder crows; or is there honor among thieves even in the feathered
tribes? I suspect the jay is often punished by birds which are otherwise
innocent of nest-robbing. One season I found a jay's nest in a small
cedar on the side of a wooded ridge. It held five eggs, every one of
which had been punctured. Apparently some bird had driven its sharp
beak through their shells, with the sole intention of destroying them, for

no part of the contents of the eggs had been removed. It looked like a
case of revenge; as if some thrush or warbler, whose nest had suffered
at the hands of the jays, had watched its opportunity, and had in this
way retaliated upon its enemies. An egg for an egg. The jays were
lingering near, very demure and silent, and probably ready to join a
crusade against nest-robbers.
The great bugaboo of the birds is the owl. The owl snatches them from
off their roosts at night, and gobbles up the1r eggs and young in their
nests. He is a veritable ogre to them, and his presence fills them with
consternation and alarm.
One season, to protect my early cherries I placed a large stuffed owl
amid the branches of the tree. Such a racket as there instantly began
about my grounds is not pleasant to think upon! The orioles and robins
fairly "shrieked out their affright." The news instantly spread in every
direction, and apparently every bird in town came to see that owl in the
cherry-tree, and every bird took a cherry, so that I lost more fruit than if
I had left the owl in-doors. With craning necks and horrified looks the
birds alighted upon the branches, and between their screams would
snatch off a cherry, as if the act was some relief to their outraged
feelings.
The chirp and chatter of the young of birds which build in concealed or
inclosed places, like the woodpeckers, the house wren, the high-hole,
the oriole, is in marked contrast to the silence of the fledglings of most
birds that build open and exposed nests. The young of the
sparrows,--unless the social sparrow be an exception,--warblers,
fly-catchers, thrushes, never allow a sound to escape them; and on the
alarm note of their parents being heard, sit especially close and
motionless, while the young of chimney swallows, woodpeckers, and
orioles are very noisy. The latter, in its deep pouch, is quite safe from
birds of prey, except perhaps the owl. The owl, I suspect, thrusts its leg
into the cavities of woodpeckers and into the pocket-like nest of the
oriole, and clutches and brings forth the birds in its talons. In one case
which I heard of, a screech-owl had thrust its claw into a cavity in a
tree, and grasped the head of a red-headed woodpecker; being
apparently unable to draw its prey forth, it had thrust its own round
head into the hole, and in some way became fixed there, and had thus
died with the woodpecker in its talons.

The life of birds is beset with dangers and mishaps of which we know
little. One day, in my walk, I came upon a goldfinch with the tip of one
wing securely fastened to the feathers of its rump, by what appeared to
be the silk of some caterpillar. The bird, though uninjured, was
completely crippled, and could not fly a stroke. Its little body was hot
and panting in my hands, as I carefully broke the fetter. Then it darted
swiftly away with a happy cry. A record of all the accidents and
tragedies of bird life for a single season would show many curious
incidents. A friend of mine opened his box-stove one fall to kindle a
fire in it, when he beheld in the black interior the desiccated forms of
two bluebirds. The birds had