Birds and Bees, Sharp Eyes, and Other Papers | Page 9

I was

apprehensive that he would serve the fly-catchers the same trick; so, as
I sat with my book in a summer-house near by, I kept my loaded gun
within easy reach. One egg was laid, and the next morning, as I made
my daily inspection of the nest, only a fragment of its empty shell was
to be found. This I removed, mentally imprecating the rogue of a red
squirrel. The birds were much disturbed by the event, but did not desert
the nest, as I had feared they would, but after much inspection of it and
many consultations together, concluded, it seems, to try again. Two
more eggs were laid, when one day I heard the birds utter a sharp cry,
and on looking up I saw a cat-bird perched upon the rim of the nest,
hastily devouring the eggs. I soon regretted my precipitation in killing
her, because such interference is generally unwise. It turned out that she
had a nest of her own with five eggs in a spruce-tree near my window.
Then this pair of little fly-catchers did what I had never seen birds do
before; they pulled the nest to pieces and rebuilt it in a peach-tree not
many rods away, where a brood was successfully reared. The nest was
here exposed to the direct rays of the noon-day sun, and to shield her
young when the heat was greatest, the mother-bird would stand above
them with wings slightly spread, as other birds have been know to do
under like circumstances.
To what extent the cat-bird is a nest-robber I have no evidence, but that
feline mew of hers, and that flirting, flexible tail, suggest something not
entirely bird-like.
Probably the darkest tragedy of the nest is enacted when a snake
plunders it. All birds and animals, so far I have observed, behave in a
peculiar manner toward a snake. They seem to feel something of the
loathing toward it that the human species experiences. The bark of a
dog when he encounters a snake is different from that which he gives
out on any other occasion; it is a mingled note of alarm, inquiry, and
disgust.
One day a tragedy was enacted a few yards from where I was sitting
with a book; two song-sparrows trying to defend their nest against a
black snake. The curious, interrogating note of a chicken who had
suddenly come upon the scene in his walk caused me to look up from
my reading. There were the sparrows, with wings raised in a way
peculiarly expressive of horror and dismay, rushing about a low clump
of grass and bushes. Then, looking more closely, I saw the glistening

form of the black snake and the quick movement of his head as he tried
to seize the birds. The sparrows darted about and through the grass and
weeds, trying to beat the snake off. Their tails and wings were spread,
and, panting with the heat and the desperate struggle, they presented a
most singular spectacle. They uttered no cry, not a sound escaped them;
they were plainly speechless with horror and dismay. Not once did they
drop their wings, and the peculiar expression of those uplifted palms, as
it were, I shall never forget. It occurred to me that perhaps here was a
case of attempted bird-charming on the part of the snake, so I looked on
from behind the fence. The birds charged the snake and harassed him
from every side, but were evidently under no spell save that of courage
in defending their nest. Every moment or two I could see the head and
neck of the serpent make a sweep at the birds, when the one struck at
would fall back, and the other would renew the assault from the rear.
There appeared to be little danger that the snake could strike and hold
one of the birds, though I rembled for them, they were so bold and
approached so near to the snake's head. Time and again he sprang at
them, but without success. How the poor things panted, and held up
their wings appealingly! Then the snake glided off to the near fence,
barely escaping the stone which I hurled at him. I found the nest rifled
and deranged; whether it had contained eggs or young I know not. The
male sparrow had cheered me many a day with his song, and I blamed
myself for not having rushed at once to the rescue, when the arch
enemy was upon him. There is probably little truth in the popular
notion that snakes charm birds. The black snake is the most subtle, alert,
and devilish of our snakes, and I have never seen him have any but
young, helpless birds in his mouth.
We have one parasitical bird,