 Section 1 of Birds, Volume 1, Number 2, February 1897. Recorded for LibriVox by Julian Pratley. The Blue Jay During about three fourths of the year, the American Jay is an extremely tame, noisy and even obtrusive bird in its habits. As the breeding season approaches, he suddenly becomes silent, preparing the nest in the most secluded parts of his native forests and exercising all his cunning to keep it concealed. He is omnivorous, but is especially fond of eggs and young birds. The Jay may be regarded as eminently injurious, though in spring he consumes a number of insects to atone for his sins of stealing fruit and berries in autumn. He is a professional nest robber, and other birds are as watchful of him as is a mother of her babe. He glides through the foliage of the trees so swiftly and noiselessly that his presence is scarcely suspected until he has committed some depredation. The robin is his most wary foe, and when the Jay is found near his nest will pursue him and drive him from the neighborhood. He is as brave as he is active, however, and dashes boldly in pursuit of his more plainly attired neighbors who venture to intrude upon his domain. The Jay has a curious antipathy toward the owl, perching on trees above it and keeping up a continual screeching. Some years ago an Ohio gentleman was presented with a magnificent specimen of the horned owl, which he kept for a time in a large tin cage. In favourable weather the cage was set out of doors, when it would soon be surrounded by Jay's, much in the manner described of the toucan, and an incessant screeching followed to which the owl appeared indifferent. There would venture near enough to steal a portion of his food, the bars of his cage being sufficiently wide apart to admit them. On one occasion, however, he caught the tale of a Jay in his claws and left the tormentor without his proud appendage. The Jay remains with us throughout the year. He is one of the wildest of our birds, the shyest of man, although seeing him most. He makes no regular migrations at certain seasons, but unless disturbed will live out his life close to his favourite horns. His wings show him to be unfitted for extended flight. Jay's are most easily discovered in the morning about sunrise on the tops of young live oaks. Their notes are varied. Later in the day it is more difficult to find them as they are more silent and not so much on the treetops as among the bushes. The Jay's breed in woods, forests, orchards, preferring old and very shady trees, placing their nests in the centre against the body or at the bifurcation of large limbs. The nest is formed of twigs and roots. The eggs are from four to six. End of section one. This recording is in the public domain. Section two of birds, volume one, number two, February 1897. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Swallow-Tailed Indian Roller. Swallow-Tailed Indian Rollers are natives of the northeastern Africa and Senegalbia and also the interior of the Niger district. The bird is so called from its way of occasionally rolling or turning over in its flight, somewhat after the fashion of a tumbler pigeon. A traveler in describing the habits of the roller family says, On the 12th of April, I reached Jericho alone and remained there in solitude for several days, during which time I had many opportunities of observing the grotesque habits of the roller. For several successive evenings, great flocks of rollers mustered shortly before sunset on some doughnut trees near the fountain, with all the noise but without the decorum of rooks. After a volley of discordant screams, from the sound of which it derives its Arabic name of Shirkrak, a few birds would start from their perches and commence overhead a series of somersaults. In a moment or two, they would be followed by the whole flock, and these gambles would be repeated for a dozen times or more. Everywhere it takes its perch on some conspicuous branch or on the top of a rock, where it can see and be seen. The bare tops of the fig trees, before they put forth their leaves, are in the cultivated terraces, a particularly favorite resort. In the barren gore, I have often watched it perched unconcernedly on a knot of gravel or marl in the plain, watching apparently for the emergence of beetles from the sand, elsewhere I have not seen it settle on the ground. Like Europeans in the east, it can make itself happy without chairs and tables in the desert, but prefers a comfortable easy chair when it is to be found. Its nests I have seen in ruins, in holes and rocks, in burrows, in steep sandcliffs, but far more generally in hollow trees. The colony of the weighty kilt used burrows excavated by themselves, and many a hole did they relinquish, owning to the difficulty of working it. So cunningly were the nests placed under a crumbling treacherous ledge, overhanging a chasm of perhaps one or two hundred feet that were completely foiled in our siege. We obtained a nest of six eggs, quite fresh, in a hollow tree in Bashan, near Gadara, on the 6th of May. The total length of the roller is about 12 inches. The swallow-tailed Indian roller, of which we present a specimen, differs from the European roller only in having the outer tail feathers elongated to an extent of several inches. End of section 2 Recording by Valentina Vacelli Section 3 of birds, volume 1, number 2, February 1897, recorded for LibriVox by Julian Pratley. The Blue Jay Something glorious, something gay, flits and flashes this away. Thwart the hemlock's dusky shade, rich in colour, full displayed, swiftly vivid as a flame, blue as heaven and white as snow, got this lovely creature go. What may be his dainty name? Only this, the people say, saucy, chattering, scolding Jay. End of section 3 This recording is in the public domain. Section 4 of birds, volume 1, number 2, February 1897 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Larry Wilson The Red-Headed Woodpecker Perhaps no bird in North America is more universally known than the Red-Headed Woodpecker. He is found in all parts of the United States and is sometimes called, for short, by the significant name of Red-Head. His dry-coloured plumage, red, white and black, glossed with steel blue, is so striking and characteristic, and his predatory habits in the orchards and cornfields and fondness for hovering along the fences so very notorious that almost every child is acquainted with the Red-Headed Woodpecker. In the immediate neighborhood of large cities, where the old timber is chiefly cut down, he is not so frequently found. Wherever there is a deadening, however, you will find him and in the dead tops and limbs of high trees he makes his home. Towards the mountains, particularly in the vicinity of creeks and rivers, these birds are extremely numerous, especially in the latter end of summer. It is interesting to hear them rattling on the dead leaves of trees or see them on the roadside fences where they flit from stake to stake. We remember a tremendous and quite alarming and afterwards ludicrous rattling by one of them on some loose tin roofing on a neighbor's house. This occurred so often that the owner, to secure peace, had the roof repaired. They love the wild cherries, their earliest and sweetest apples, for as is said of him, he is so excellent a connoisseur in fruit that whenever an apple or pear is found broached by him it is sure to be among the ripest and best flavored. When alarmed he ceases a capital one by striking his open bill into it and bears it off to the woods. He eats the rich succulent milky young corn with feracity. He is of a gay and frolicsome disposition and half a dozen of the fraternity are frequently seen diving and vociferating around the high dead limbs of some large trees, pursuing and playing with each other and amusing the passerby with their gambles. He is a comical fellow too, prying around at you from the bowl of a tree or from his nesting-hole therein. Though a lover of fruit he does more good than injury. Insects are his natural food and form at least two-thirds of his subsistence. He devours the destructive insects that penetrate the bark and body of a tree to deposit their eggs in larvae. About the middle of May he begins to construct his nest, which is formed in the body of large limbs of trees, taking in no material but smoothing it within to the proper shape and size. The female lays six eggs of a pure white. The young appear about the first of June. About the middle of September the red heads begin to migrate to warmer climates, traveling at night time in an irregular way like a disbanded army and stopping for rest and food through the day. The black snake is the deadly foe of the red head, frequently entering his nest, feeding upon the young and remaining for days in possession. The eager schoolboy, after hazarding his neck to reach the woodpecker's hole, at the triumphant moment when he thinks the nest leans his own, strips his arm, launches it down into the cavity, and grasping what he conceives to be the cowl young, starts with horror at the sight of a hideous snake, almost drops from his giddy pinnacle and retreats down the tree with terror and precipitation. Section 4 Section 5 of birds, volume 1, number 2, February 1897. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Woodpecker, the drummer bird. My dear girls and boys, the man who told me to keep still and look pleasant while he took my picture said I might write you a letter to send with it. You say I always keep on the other side of the tree from you. That is because someone has told you that I spoil trees and I am afraid that you will want to punish me for it. I do not spoil trees. The trees like to have me come to visit them, for I eat the insects that are killing them. Shall I tell you how I do this? I cling to the tree with my strong claws so sharply hooked. The pointed feathers of my tail are stiff enough to help hold me against the bark. Then my breastbone is quite flat so that I may press close to the tree. When I am all ready, you hear my rap, just like a rattle. My head goes as quickly as if it were moved by a spring. Such a strong, sharp bill makes the chips fly. The tiny tunnel I dig just reaches the insect. Then I thrust out my tongue. It has a sharp, horny tip and has barbs on it too. Very tiny insects stick to a liquid-like glue that covers my tongue. I suppose I must tell you that I like a taste of the ripest fruit and grain. Don't you think I earn a little when I work so hard keeping the trees healthy? I must tell you about the deep tunnel my mate and I cut out of a tree. It is just wide enough for us to slip into. It is not straight down, but bent, so that the rain cannot get to the bottom. There we make a nest of little chips for our five white eggs. I should like to tell you one of the stories that some boys and girls tell about my red head. You will find it on another page of the book. Now I must fly away to peck for more bugs. Your loving friend, Woodpecker. End of Section 5, Recording by Valentina Vacelli Section 6 of Birds, Volume 1, Number 2, February 1897 This is LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Mexican Mott Mott Mott Mott's are peculiar to the New World, being found from Mexico throughout the whole of Central America and the South American continent. The general plumage is green, and the majority of the species have a large racket at the end of the center tail feathers, formed by the bird itself. The howton, so called from his note, according to Waterson, ranks high in beauty among the birds of Demerara. This beautiful creature seems to suppose that its beauty can be increased by trimming its tail, which undergoes the same operation as one's hair in a barber shop, using its own beak, which is serrated, in lieu of a pair of scissors. As soon as its tail is fully grown, he begins about an inch from the extremity of the two longest feathers in it, and cuts away the web on both sides of the shaft, making a gap about an inch long. Both male and female wear their tails in this manner, which gives them a remarkable appearance among all other birds. To observe this bird in his native haunts, one must be in the forest at dawn. He shuns the society of man. The thick and gloomy forests are preferred by the howton. In those far extending wilds about daybreak, you hear him call in distinct and melancholy tone. Howton, howton. An observer says, move cautiously to the place from which the sound proceeds, and you will see him sitting in the underwood. About a couple of yards from the ground, his tail moving up and down every time he articulates. Howton. The mot-mot lives on insects and berries found among the underwood, and very rarely is seen in the lofty trees. He makes no nest but rears his young in a hole in the sand, generally on the side of a hill. Mr. Osbert Salvin tells this curious anecdote. Some years ago, the zoological society possessed a specimen which lived in one of the large cages of the parrot house by itself. I have a very distinct recollection of the bird, for I used every time I saw it to cheer it up a bit by whistling such of its notes as I had picked up in the forests of America. The bird always seemed to appreciate this attention, for although it never replied, it became at once animated, hopped about the cage, and swung its tail from side to side like the pendulum of a clock. For a long time its tail had perfect spatules, but toward the end of its life I noticed that the median feathers were no longer trimmed with such precision, and on looking at its beak I noticed that from some cause or other it did not close properly, gape slightly at the tip, and had thus become unfitted for removing the veins of the feathers. End of Section 6, Recording by Valentina Vacelli Section 7 of Birds, Volume 1, Number 2, February 1897 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org King Parrot or King Lori Lori is the name of certain birds, mostly from the Moluccas and New Guinea, which are remarkable for their bright scarlet or crimson coloring, though also apply to some others in which the plumage is chiefly green. Much interest has been excited by the discovery of Dr. A. B. Meyer that the birds of this genus, having a red plumage, are the females of those wearing green feathers. For a time there was much difference of opinion on this subject, but the assertion is now generally admitted. They are called brush-tongued parrots. The color of the first plumage of the young is still unsettled. This bird is a favorite among bird fanciers, is readily tamed, and is of an affectionate nature. It can be taught to speak very credibly and is very fond of attracting the attention of strangers and receiving the caresses of those whom it likes. There are a few things a parrot prefers to nuts and the stones of various fruits. Wood says he once succeeded in obtaining the affections of a Parisian parrot solely through the medium of peach stones which he always saved for the bird and for which it regularly began to gabble as soon as it saw him coming. When taken freshly from the peach, he says, the stones are very acceptable to the parrot, who turns them over, chuckling all the while to show his satisfaction and picking all the soft parts from the deep indentations in the stone. He used to crack the stone before giving it to the bird when his delight knew no bounds. They are fond of hot condiments, cayenne pepper, or the capsicum pod. If a bird be ailing, a capsicum will often set it right again. The parrot is one of the hardiest of birds when well cared for and will live to a great age. Some of these birds have been known to attain an age of 70 years, and one seen by Vayan had reached the patriarchal age of 93. At 60 its memory began to fail. At 65 the molt became very irregular and the tail changed to yellow. At 90 it was a very decrepit creature, almost blind and quite silent, having forgotten its former abundant stock of words. A gentleman once had for many years a parrot of seemingly rare intelligence. It was his custom during the summer to hang the parrot's cage in front of his shop in a country village where the bird would talk and laugh and cry and condole with itself. Dogs were his special aversion, and on occasions when he had food to spare he would drop it out of the cage and whistle long and loud for them. When the dogs had assembled to his satisfaction he would suddenly scream in the fiercest accents, get out dogs, and when they had scattered an alarm his enjoyment of it was demonstrative. This parrot's vocabulary, however, was not the most refined, his master having equipped him with certain paradical idioms. According to authority the parrot owner will find the health of his pet improved in its happiness promoted by giving it, every now and then, a small log or branch on which the mosses and lichens are still growing. Meat, fish, and other similar articles of diet are given with evil effects. It is impossible for anyone who has only seen these birds in a cage or small enclosure to conceive what must be the gorgeous appearance of a flock, either in full flight and performing their various evolutions under a vertical sun or sporting among the superb foliage of a tropical forest which, without these and other brilliant tenets, would present only a solitude of luxuriant vegetation. End of Section 7 Recording by Valentina Vacelli Section 8 of birds, Volume 1, Number 2, February 1897 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jen Broda The American Robin, The Bird of the Morning Yes, my dear readers, I am the bird of the morning. Very few of you rise early enough to hear my first song. By the time you are awake our little ones have had their breakfast. Mrs. Robin and I have had our morning bath and we are all ready to greet you with our morning song. I wonder if any of you have seen our nest and can tell the color of the eggs that Mrs. Robin lays. Sometime I will let you peep into the nest and see them, but of course you will not touch them. I wonder too if you know any of my cousins, the Mockingbird, the Catbird or the Brown Thrush. I think I shall ask them to have their pictures taken soon and talk to you about our gay times. Did you ever see one of my cousins on the ground? I don't believe you can tell how much I move about. Some of you may say I run and some of you may say I hop and others of you may say I do both. Well, I'll tell you how to find out. Just watch me and see. My little friends up north won't be able to see me though until next month as I do not dare leave the warm south until Jack Frost leaves the ground so I can find worms to eat. I shall be about the first bird to visit you next month and I want you to watch for me. When I do come it will be to stay a long time for I shall be the last to leave you. Just think the first to come and last to leave. Don't you think we ought to be great friends? Let us get better acquainted when we next meet. Your friend Robin. End of section 8. Section 9 of birds volume 1, number 2, February 1897. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jen Broda. Untitled poem. How do the Robins build their nest? Robin Redbreast told me. First a wisp of yellow hay in a pretty round they lay. Then some shreds of downy floss, feathers too, and bits of moss. Woven with a sweet, sweet song, this way, that way, and across. That's what Robin told me. Where do Robins hide their nest? Robin Redbreast told me. Up among the leaves so deep where the sunbeams rarely creep. Long before the winds are cold. Long before the leaves are gold. Bright-eyed stars will peep and see. Baby Robins 1, 2, 3. That's what Robin told me. End of section 9. Section 10 of birds volume 1, number 2, February 1897. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Chad Jackson. The American Robin. The Bird of the Morning. Yes, my dear readers, I am the bird of the morning. Very few of you rise early enough to hear my first song. By the time you are awake, our little ones have had their breakfast. Mrs. Robin and I have had our morning bath, and we are all ready to greet you with our morning song. I wonder if any of you have seen our nest and can tell the color of the eggs that Mrs. Robin lays. Sometime I will let you peep into the nest and see them, but of course you will not touch them. I wonder too if you know any of my cousins, the mockingbird, the catbird, or the brown thrush. I think I shall ask them to have their pictures taken soon and talk to you about our gay times. Did you ever see one of my cousins on the ground? I don't believe you can tell how I move about. Some of you may say I run, and some of you may say I hop, and others of you may say I do both. Well, I'll tell you how to find out. Just watch me and see. My little friends up north won't be able to see me, though, until next month, as I do not dare leave the warm south until Jack Frost leaves the ground so I can find worms to eat. I shall be about the first bird to visit you next month, and I want you to watch for me. When I do come, it will be to stay a long time, for I shall be the last to leave you. Just think, the first to come and last to leave. Don't you think we ought to be great friends? Let us get better acquainted when next we meet. Your friend, Robin. End of Section 10 Section 11 of Birds Volume 1, Number 2 February 1897 Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Mapstone The Robin My old Welsh neighbour over the way crept slowly out in the sun of spring, pushed from her ears the locks of grey, and listened to hear the Robin sing. Her grandson playing at Marble's stopped, and cruel in sport his boys will be, tossed a stone at the bird who hopped from bow to bow in the apple tree. Nay said the grandmother, have you not heard my poor bad boy of the fiery pit, and how drop by drop this merciful bird carries the water that quenches it. He brings cool dew in his little bill, and lets it fall on the soles of sin. You can see the mark on his red breast still, of fires that scorch as he drops it in. My poor Bron Rudin, my breast-burned bird, singing so sweetly from limb to limb, very dear to the heart of our Lord, is he who pities the lost like him. Amen, I said, the beautiful myth, sing, bird of God, in my heart as well. Each good thought is a drop wherewith, to cool and lessen the fires of hell. Prayers of love like raindrops fall, tears of pity are cooling dew, and dear to the heart of our Lord are all, who suffer like him in the good they do. End of section 11. This recording is in the public domain. Section 12 of birds. Volume 1, number 2, February 1897. Recorded for LibriVox.org by Phil Schimpf. The Kingfisher. Dear children, I shall soon arrive from the south. I hear that all the birds are going to tell stories to the boys and girls. I have never talked much with children myself, for I never really cared for people. They used to say that the dead body of a Kingfisher kept them safe in war, and they said also that it protected them in lightning. Even now, in some places in France, they call us the mothbirds, for they believe that our bodies will keep away moths from woolen cloth. I wish that people would not believe such things about us. Perhaps you cannot understand me when I talk. You may think that you hear only a child's rattle. Listen again. It is I, the Kingfisher. That sound is my way of talking. I live in the deep woods. I own a beautiful stream and a clear cool lake. Oh, the little fish in that lake are good enough for a king to eat. I know, for I am a king. You may see me or some of my mates near the lake any pleasant day. People used to say that we always brought pleasant weather. That is a joke. It is the pleasant weather that always brings us from our homes. When it storms or rains, we cannot see the fish in the lake. Then we may as well stay in our nests. My home once belonged to a water rat. He dug the fine hall in the gravel bank in my stream. It is nearly six feet long. The end of it is just the kind of place for a nest. It is warm, dry, and dark. In June, my wife and I will settle down in it. By that time, we shall have the nest well lined with fish bones. We shall put in some dried grass, too. The fish bones make a fine lining for a nest. You know, we swallow the fish whole, but we save all the bones for our nest. I shall help my wife at your five white eggs and shall try in every way to make my family safe. Please tell the people not to believe those strange things about me, and you will greatly oblige a neighbor, the Kingfisher. End of section 12. This recording is in the public domain. Section 13 of Birds, volume 1, number 2, February 1897. Recorded for LibriVox.org by Phil Shampf. The Kingfisher, the lone fisherman. The American species belongs to the true group of Kingfishers. It occupies the whole continent of North America, and although migrating in the north, he is a constant resident of our southern states. The belted Kingfisher is the only variety found along the inland streams of the United States. Audubon declares that belted should apply only to the female, however. Like most birds of brilliant plumage, the Kingfisher prefers a quiet and secluded haunt. It loves the little trout streams with wooded and precipitous banks, bestill ponds and small lakes, ornamental waters in parks, where it is not molested, and the sides of sluggish rivers, grains, and mill ponds. Here in such a haunt, the bird often flits past, like an indistinct gleam of bluish light. Fortune may sometimes favor the observer, and the bird may alight on some twig over the stream, its weight causing it to sway gently to and fro. It eagerly scans the shoal of young trout sporting in the pool below, when it suddenly drops down into the water, and almost before the observer is aware of the fact, is back again to its perch, with a struggling fish in its beak. A few blows on the branch, and its prey is ready for the dexterous movement of the bill, which places it in a position for swallowing. Sometimes the captured fish is adroitly jerked into the air and caught as it falls. Fish is the principal food of the Kingfisher, but it also eats various kinds of insects, shrimps, and even small crabs. It rears its young in a hole, which is made in the banks of the stream it frequents. It is a slatternly bird, fouls its own nest and its peerless eggs. The nesting hole is bored rather slowly, and takes from one to two weeks to complete. Six or eight white glossy eggs are laid, sometimes on the bare soil, but often on the fish bones which, being indigestible, are thrown up by the bird in pellets. The Kingfisher has a crest of feathers on the top of his head, which he raises and lowers, especially when trying to drive intruders away from his nest. The plumage is compact and oily, almost impervious to water. The flesh is fishy and disagreeable to the taste, but the eggs are said to be good-eating. The wings are long and pointed, and the bill longer than the head. The voice is harsh and monotonous. It is said that few birds are connected with more fables than the Kingfisher. The superstition that a dead Kingfisher, when suspended by the throat, would turn its beak to that particular point of the compass from which the wind blew is now dead. It was also supposed to possess many astonishing virtues, as that its dried body would avert thunderbolts, and, if kept in a wardrobe, would preserve from moths the woollen stuffs and the leg contained in it. Under the name of Halcyon, it was fabled by the ancients to build its nest on the surface of the sea, and to have the power of calming the troubled waves during the period of incubation, it's the phrase Halcyon Days. A pair of Kingfishers have had their residents in a bank at the south end of Washington Park, Chicago, for at least three seasons past. We have watched the Kingfisher from secluded spots on Long Island Ponds and tidal streams, where his peculiar laughing note is the same as that which greets the ear of the fishermen on far inland streams on still summer days. End of section 13. This recording is in the public domain. Section 14 of Birds Volume 1, Number 2, February 1897. Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Mapstone. The Blackbird I could not think so plain a bird could sing so fine a song. One or another against the wall, pile up the books, I am done with them all. I shall be wise if I ever am wise, out of my own ears and of my own eyes. One day of the woods with their balmy light, one hour on the top of a breezy hill, there in the sassafras all out of sight, the Blackbird is splitting his slender bill for the ease of his heart. Do you think if he said, I will sing like this bird with the mud-coloured back and the two little spots of gold over his eyes, or like to this shy little creature that flies so low to the ground with the amethyst rings about her small throat, all alive when she sings with a glitter of shivering green, for the rest gray shading to gray with the sheen of her breast, half rose and half form, or like this one so proud that flutters so restless and cries out so loud with stiff horny beak and a top-knotted head and a lining of scarlet laid under his wings. Do you think if he said, I'm ashamed to be black, that he could have shaken the sassafras tree as he does with the song he was born to, not he? Alice Carey End of section 14. This recording is in the public domain. Section 15 of Birds Volume 1, Number 2, February 1897 Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Mapstone from The Birds of Killingworth. Do you near think what wondrous beings these? Do you near think who made them, who taught the dialect they speak, where melodies alone are the interpreters of thought, whose household words are songs in many keys, sweeter than instrument of man air-court, whose habitation in the treetops even are halfway houses on the road to heaven? You call them thieves or pillagers, but no, they are the winged wardens of your farms, who from the cornfields drive the insidious foe, and from your harvest keep a hundred harms. Even the blackest of them all, the crow, renders good service as your man at arms, crushing the beetle in his coat of mail, and crying havoc on the slug and snail. End of section 15. This recording is in the public domain. Section 16 of Birds, volume one, number two, February 1897. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Colleen McMahon. Blue Mountain Lorry. This bird inhabits the vast plains of the interior of New South Wales. It is one of the handsomest, not only of the Australian parrots, but takes foremost place among the most gorgeously dressed members of the parrot family that are to be met with in any part of the world. It is about 11 or 12 inches in length. The female cannot with certainty be distinguished from her mate, but is usually a very little smaller. The lorry seldom descends to the ground, but passes the greater part of its life among the gum trees upon the pollen and nectar on which it mainly subsists. In times of scarcity, however, it will also eat grass seeds, as well as insects, for one of which it is said it often dies prematurely when in captivity. Dr. Russ mentions that a pair obtained from a London dealer in 1870 for $50 were the first of these birds imported, but the London Zoological Society had secured some of them two years before. Despite his beauty, the Blue Mountain Lorry is not a desirable bird to keep as he requires great care. A female which survived six years in an aviary laying several eggs, though kept singly, was fed on canary seed, maize, a little sugar, raw beef, and carrots. W. Gedney seems to have been peculiarly happy in his specimens, remarking, but for the terribly sudden death which so often overtakes these birds, they would be the most charming feathered pets that a lady could possess, having neither the power nor inclination to bite savagely. The same writer's recommendation to feed this lorry exclusively upon soft food in which honey forms a great part probably accounts for his advice to those who susceptible natures would be shocked by the sudden death of their favorite not to become the owner of a Blue Mountain Lorry. Like all the Parrot family, these lorries breed in hollow boughs where the female deposits from three to four white eggs upon which she sits for 21 days. The young from the first resemble the parents closely, but are a trifle less brilliantly colored. They are very active and graceful but have an abominable shriek. The noise is said to be nearly as disagreeable as the plumage is beautiful. They are very quarrelsome and have to be kept apart from the other parents, which they will kill. Other species of birds, however, are not disturbed by them. It is a sort of family animosity. They have been bred in captivity. The feathers of the head and neck are long and very narrow and lie closely together. The claws are strong and hooked, they are incessant activity and amusing ways make these birds always interesting to watch. End of section 16 Recording by Colleen McMahon The much abused and persecuted Red Wing Blackbird is found throughout North America, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and it breeds more or less abundantly wherever found. In New England, it is generally migratory, though instances are on record where a few have been known to remain throughout the winter in Massachusetts. Passing in New England, it is generally migratory, though instances are on record where a few have been known to remain throughout the winter in Massachusetts. Passing in January through the lower counties of Virginia, one frequently witnesses the aerial evolutions of great numbers of these birds. Sometimes they appear as if driven about by an enormous black cloud carried before the wind, varying every moment in shape. Sometimes they rise from the fields with a noise like thunder, or the glittering of innumerable wings of the brightest vermilion amid the black cloud, an occasion of very striking effect. At times the whole congregated multitude will suddenly alight in some detached grove and commence one general concert that can plainly be distinguished at the distance of more than two miles. With the red wings, the whole winter season seems one continued carnival. They find abundant food in the old fields of rice, buckwheat, and grain, and much of their time is spent on aerial movements, or in grand vocal performances. The red wings for their nest always select either the borders of streams or low marshy situations amongst thick bunches of reeds. One nest was found built on a cender sapling at the distance of 14 feet from the ground. The nest was pencil, like that of a Baltimore Oriole. They have from one to three or more broods in a season three. In the grain-growing states they gather in immense swarms and commit havoc, and although they are shot in great numbers and though their ranks are thinned by the attacks of hawks, it seems to have but little effect upon the survivors. On the other hand, these blackbirds more than compensate the farmer for their mischief by the benefit they confer in the destruction of grubworms, or by the enemies of vegetation. It has been estimated the number of insects destroyed by these birds in a single season in the United States to be 12,000 millions. The eggs average about an inch in length. Their oval in shape have a light bluish ground and are marbled, lined and blotched with markings of light in dark purple and black. End of section 17. This recording is in the public domain. Section 18 of Birds Volume 1 Number 2 February 1897 Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Mapstone. Blackbird Tis a woodland enchanted by no sadder spirit than blackbirds and thrushes that whistle to cheer it all day in the bushes. This woodland is haunted and in a small clearing of human annoyance a little found gushes. Lowl End of section 18. This recording is in the public domain. Section 19 of Birds Volume 1 Number 2 February 1897 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Jen Broda The Bird of Society The blackbird loves to be one of a great flock. He talks, sings or scolds from morning until night. He cannot keep still. He will only stay alone with his family a few months in the summer. That is the reason he is called the Bird of Society. When he is married, he gaily sings concrete. When he is angry or frightened, he screams chuck chuck. When he is flying or bathing he gives a sweet note which sounds like eww. He can chirp chuck chuck to his little ones as softly as any other bird. But only his best friends ever hear his sweet tones. Blackbirds do not know how to be polite. They all talk at once. That is why most people think they only scream and chatter. Did you ever hear the blackbirds in the corn fields? If the farmers thought about it, perhaps they would feel that part of every corn crop belongs to the blackbirds. When the corn is young, the farmer cannot see the grubs which are eating the young plants. They feed them to their babies many thousands in a day. That is the way the crops are saved for the farmer but he never thinks of that. Later when the blackbirds come for their share of the corn the farmer says, No, they shall not have my corn. I must stop that quickly. Perhaps the blackbirds said the same thing to the grubs in the spring. It is hard to have justice for everyone. In April, the blackbird and his mate leave the noisy company. They seek a cozy home near the water where they can be quiet until August. They usually choose a swampy place among low shrubs and rushes. Here in the deep nest of coarse grass, moss and mud the mother bird lays her five eggs. They are very pretty, light blue with purple and white. Their friends say this is the best time to watch the blackbirds. In the flock they are all so much alike we cannot tell one from another. You would like to hear of some of the wise things blackbirds do when they are tame. One friend of the birds turned her home into a great open birdcage. Her chair was the favorite perch of her birds. She could not stay yet her home was always full. This was Olive Thorn Miller. If you care to you might ask mother to get birdways and read you what she says about this bird of society and the other birds of this book. End of section 19. Section 20 of Birds. Volume 1, Number 2, February 1897 Recorded for LibriVox.org by Wayne Cook. The American Redbird. American Redbirds are among the most common cage birds and are very generally known in Europe, numbers of them having been carried over both to France and England. Their notes are varied and musical, many of them resembling the high notes of a fife and are nearly as loud. They are in song from March at the first appearance of Don and repeating successively 20 or 30 times and with little intermission a favorite strain. The sprightly figure and gaudy plumage of the Redbird, its vivacity and strength of voice and actual variety of note and the little expense with which he is kept will always make him a favorite. This species is more numerous to the east of the great range of Pennsylvania and Ohio and is numerous in the lower parts of the southern states. In January and February they have been found along the road sides and fences hovering together in half dozens associating with snowbirds and various kinds of sparrows. In the northern states they are migratory and in the southern part of Pennsylvania they reside during the whole year frequenting the borders of rivulets in Hawley, Laurel and other evergreens. They love also to reside in the vicinity of fields of Indian corn, a grain that constitutes their chief and favorite food. The seeds of apples, cherries and other fruits are also eaten by them and they are accused of destroying bees. Early in May the Redbird begins to prepare his nest which is very often fixed in a Hawley, Cedar or Laurel bush. The Redbirds in Ohio return for a number of years to build their nest in a honeysuckle vine under a portico. They were never disturbed and never failed to rear a brood of young. The nest was constructed of small twigs, dry weeds, slips of vine bark and lined with stalks of vine grass. Four eggs of brownish olive were laid and they usually raised two broods in a season. In confinement 24 will live to a considerable age. They are generally known by the names Redbird, Virginia Redbird, Virginia Nightingale and Crested Redbird. It is said that the female often sings nearly as well as the male. End of Section 20. This recording is in the public domain. Section 21 of Birds, Volume 1 Number 2, February 1897. Recorded for LibriVox.org by Tiffany Allen. The Redbirds and the Redbird. The Redbirds. Two Redbirds came in early May, flashing like rubies on the way. Their joyous notes awoke the day and made all nature glad and gay. Thrice, welcome Crested visitants. Thou do as well to seek our haunts. The bounteous vine by thee possessed, from prying eyes shall keep thy nest. Sing to us in the early dawn, till then thy scarlet throats have drawn. Refreshing drafts from drops of dew, the enchanting concert to renew. No plaintive notes, we wean, are thine. They gurgle like a royal wine. They cheer, rejoice, they quite thine. Thy neighbor's voice, though it's divine, free as the circumambient air, do thou remain a perfect pair. To come once more, when prosopine, shall swell the buds of tree and vine. CCM The Redbird. Is it because he wears a red hat, that we call him the cardinal bird? Or is it because his voice is so rich that scarcely a finer is heard? To his neither, but this, I've guessed it, I'm sure. His dress is a primary color of nature. It blends with the Orioles golden display, and the garment of Bluebird completes the array. CCM End of section 21. This recording is in the public domain. End of section 21.