To feed a squab, its mouth must be opened by taking the sides of the bill between the thumb and forefinger of the left hand, and gently pinching it at the base until the mouth opens; then push an oblong pellet of bread softened with milk between the mandibles. You will always be successful in rearing squabs in this manner. Bread softened with sweet milk, or boiled potatoes mixed with eggs, is a healthy diet for many young birds.
The prepared food sold at bird-stores under the name of mocking-bird food I have discovered to be almost universally relished by insectivorous birds after they are old enough to feed themselves. As soon as a young bird can hop around, supply it with plenty of water to bathe in, at least once or twice a day; if you keep your pet’s surroundings neat, the bird will not fail to keep its little person tidy and trim. The ground or grass finch will not bathe in water, but performs his ablutions in dust or fine sand, and a supply of sand should be provided.
The Cow Blackbird.
There is often a third party interested in the construction of all small birds’ nests—a homeless, happy-go-lucky Bohemian bird, who has a sort of tramp’s interest in the housekeeping arrangements of most of the smaller feathered denizens of copse and wood. This is the well-known cow blackbird, who disdains to shackle her freedom with the care of a family, and shifts a mother’s responsibility by farming her progeny out, while she seeks the incongruous but apparently congenial companionship of the cattle, with whom she appears to be on the most intimate terms.
The cow-bird deposits its eggs indiscriminately among the nests of smaller birds. The blackbird’s eggs generally hatch out a day or two before the adopted mother’s own eggs, so when the legitimate members of the family do come, it is to find their nest already occupied by the strong, lusty interlopers, who, on account of their superior size and strength, come in for the lion’s share of all the food brought to the nest. Thus the innocent parents rear the aliens, while their own young starve. It is really a pitiable sight to see a couple of little greenlets anxiously searching from daybreak till evening for food to fill the capacious crop of one or more young cow blackbirds considerably larger than the greenlets themselves.
As might be expected, the young cow-bird is an inveterate gormandizer, and you cannot supply it with enough food to stop its cries for more. True to its instinct, when its craw is crammed to its utmost extent, the young pauper will still cry for more and open wide its mouth, for fear its foster brothers and sisters should receive some share of the food. The blackbird wastes all it cannot eat, deliberately throwing the food away by a sudden jerk of the head.
Wrens, Sparrows, and Finches.
Feed young wrens, sparrows, and finches upon chopped worms and the soft parts of grasshoppers. As soon as their bills become hard enough the finches and sparrows may be fed upon bird seed that can be procured at any bird store.
The Bobolink.
Feed young bobolinks upon the soft parts of grasshoppers, and as they grow older and become inclined to corpulency, do not let them have too much to eat, or they will kill themselves.
The Catbird.
The catbird resembles the mocking-bird so closely in its habits that it may be reared upon exactly the same food. I have made several successful attempts at rearing catbirds, and find them amusing and lively pets. One bird, that bore the name of “Greedy,” would when called fly from the top of the tallest tree and alight upon my head or shoulder. The catbird will attempt to mimic almost every sound it hears. There is at present a couple of these birds which have a nest near my window. Here they build year after year, they have become quite tame, and the male bird has learned the first two notes of a bugle-call; it is very amusing to hear him struggle to master the rest of the call. When I whistle it to him, he sits on his favorite perch, a low limb of a peach-tree, and holding his head to one side, patiently waits until the call is finished; then filling his lungs, he gives the first two notes with remarkable clearness, hesitates a moment as if undecided what to do next, and ends in a wild burst of song. Often the bird will practice in a low key for ten minutes at a time, but as soon as he sees that he is observed he will commence the scolding cat-cry from which these birds derive their name. The catbird or black-capped thrush requires a large cage and plenty of water for bathing purposes. A food preparation, published first, I think, in Harper’s Bazar, consists of two-fifths pounded cracker, two-fifths oatmeal, and one-fifth hard-boiled egg; to be thoroughly mixed with equal proportions of milk and water until it is of the consistency of fresh bread.
Robins
are as easily domesticated as the catbird, and can be fed upon almost the same food. Fruit in season is always relished by Bob, and he will kill himself eating it if the quantity is not restricted. A robin that the writer once owned would eat a large slice of water-melon down to the green rind in a single day. Feed the young birds upon the soft parts of the grasshopper, white grub worms, and chopped angle-worms, or if such food cannot be obtained, use the yolk of hard-boiled eggs mixed with stale wheat bread made into a paste with a little milk or water. When the bird grows older the following preparation may be given: One-third stale wheat bread well soaked in water and pressed, one-third dry grated carrot, one-sixth of hard-boiled egg, and one-sixth of bruised hemp-seed. Mix well into a paste.
Robins will acquire a taste for many dishes which in their wild state they could never have eaten. One bird described by a writer in the Science News became very fond of hot doughnuts and other equally strange diet.
The Brown Thrush, or Thrasher.
Every country boy is familiar with “the long-tailed thrush,” as they call this bird, and all of them know what a graceful bird he is, while, strange to say, but few know that he is an excellent song bird, little inferior to the mocking-bird in that respect. The brown thrush makes a good cage bird, and can be reared and kept upon the same food as that just described for the robin; their nests are generally found in low bushes among the thickets skirting cultivated ground.
The Wood Thrush
is of a bright brown upon the back, with a light speckled breast and a much shorter tail than the thrasher. Why this bird is called the wood thrush, is a question; around Flushing, L. I., it is seldom, if ever, seen in the woods proper, but in the ornamental trees on the lawns and the shade trees in the streets of the village this bird makes his home. His song, though rich and full, is short. The wood thrush is easily kept in captivity, and makes a valuable addition to an aviary. The young may be reared upon the same food as that described for the catbird.
Bluebirds
are pretty little creatures, making their appearance in the early spring. They build their nests in hollow trees, knot-holes, or bird-houses erected for that purpose, and have been known to build in a dove-cot, but since the introduction of that noisy little street gamin, the English sparrow, the bluebirds have mostly deserted the immediate neighborhood of the dwellings, and may be found in the orchards and other safe retreats. The bluebird makes an excellent pet, is of a lovable disposition, and will not associate with other birds except of its own kind.
Use about the same food as that described for robins.
The Summer Yellowbird.
While the expanding leaves of tree and shrub retain the tender tints of pink, and the broad lily-pads commence to mosaic the surface of the ponds with green, in perfect harmony with the bursting bud and opening flower comes the summer yellowbird, and from hedge and bush may be heard his song, as simple and pleasing as the tasteful but modest plumage that covers his little person. Almost immediately after the first appearance of these industrious little birds they commence their preparations for housekeeping. The male bird flies busily about selecting such material as feathers, plants, fibres, the furze from ferns, the catkins from willows, and other similar objects, all of which he brings to his mate, who arranges and fashions their delicate nest. So quickly and deftly does this little couple labor that they build the greater part of their house in a single day.
The author has never attempted to rear the su
mmer yellow-bird, nor has he ever seen one in confinement; but there is no reason why this beautiful warbler should not make as good a cage-bird as any other feathered songster. You may feed the young upon the soft parts of grasshoppers and soft grubs. This much can be learned by watching the parent birds attending to the wants of their tiny offspring.
The Bluejay
is a noisy, showy bird of brilliant plumage, with a pretty crest upon its head; the bill is black; the back and wings different shades of blue, with black stripes; throat, cheeks, and breast light gray; a black ring around his neck extends like a collar down to his chest.
Although the jay is no musician he is an excellent mimic, and can be taught to crow like a cock, bark like a dog, and to whistle a tune; he is a large, handsome bird, and looks well in a cage. The only young one the writer ever had was one that had just left its nest. It was caught in an orchard, and thrived upon grubs and worms of all sorts. Either the food described for the robin or the catbird ought to answer also for the bluejay; an occasional spoonful of raw egg is relished by a young jay.
Want of space will prevent the enumeration of all the feathered creatures that make their home in our forests and orchards; but this chapter will be incomplete if it contains no mention of that most lovely of all American birds, the little feathered mite called a
Humming-Bird.
Even if captured when full grown, this delicate little creature can be tamed in a remarkably short time.
Although the writer has been fortunate enough to find several little bunches of the cotton-like substance which forms the nest of the humming-bird, he has captured but one young bird; that one was discovered disconsolately peeping as it sat upon a smooth stone in the middle of a Kentucky stream. Upon the overhanging branch of a button-wood tree there was a little lump which was at once recognized as a humming-bird’s nest, but so closely did it approach the branch in texture and color, that it might have been passed by unobserved had it not been for the otherwise unaccountable appearance of the little feathered midget upon the stone directly under it. The young bird, when picked up, did not offer to fly, but opened its long, slender bill and made a peeping noise, eagerly swallowing some little insects that were put into its mouth. It was not long before the parent birds commenced buzzing around the author’s head like enraged bumble-bees; they even flew against his face, nor did they leave him until he had set their offspring free.
A writer in Chambers’s Journal upon this subject says:
“It was long thought that humming-birds would not live in confinement; and this idea is so far correct that, although easily tamed, they will not live long in captivity if fed only on syrup. If confined to this food they die in a month or two, apparently starved; whereas, if kept in a small room, the windows of which are covered with fine net, so as to allow insects to enter, they may be preserved for a considerable time in health and beauty. Their nests are very curious; many of them are cup-shaped and very small, sometimes no larger than the half of a walnut shell; and they are often beautifully decorated on the outside with lichens, so as exactly to resemble the branch in the fork of which they are placed. They are formed of cottony substances, and are lined inside with fibres as fine and soft as silk. The nests of other species are hammock-shaped, and are suspended to creepers; the Pichincha humming-bird has been known to attach its nest to a straw-rope hanging in a shed; their eggs are white, and they never lay more than one or two. Once, when on the Amazon, Mr. Wallace had a nest of young humming-birds brought to him, which he tried to feed on syrup, supposing that they would be fed on honey by their parents. To his surprise, however, they not only would not swallow the liquid, but nearly choked themselves in their efforts to eject it. He then caught some very small flies, and dropped one into the wide-open mouth of the poor little orphan humming-bird; it closed instantly with a satisfied gulp, and opened again for more. The little creatures, he found, demanded fifteen or twenty flies each in succession before they were satisfied; and the process of feeding and fly-catching together required so much time that he was reluctantly compelled to abandon them to their fate.”
The Illustration has been drawn by the writer from a compound yellowbird’s nest. The upper story or nest is partly lifted so as to show the cow blackbird’s eggs in the nest below.
CHAPTER XX.
HOW TO REAR WILD BIRDS—CONTINUED.
The Crow, Hawk, and other Large Birds.
A FUZZY topknot surmounting a head too heavy for the slender neck to hold upright; large, protruding eyes protected by lids that are tightly gummed together; a bluish black skin, with no feathers to hide the wrinkles; a large paunch like an alder-man. Such is the appearance of a very young crow; and after a glance at the accompanying sketch, drawn from nature, the reader will no doubt agree with the writer in calling it the worst looking “baby in the woods,” and if mischief be a sign of badness, then “Jim Crow” does not belie his looks. He is especially comical when his great blood-red mouth is expanded to its utmost dimension in expectancy as he awaits a morsel of food.
Of all our native birds the crow is probably the hardiest, and the least trouble to bring up by hand. Almost any kind of soft food, bread and milk, corn meal mush, grub worms, raw lean meat, or raw liver is devoured with relish by the black baby; any of the foods described in the preceding chapter may be fed to the crow. As soon as he is able to walk “Jim” will begin to learn to eat without help. The feathers will by this time have grown, covering the body with a suit of glossy black, which gives the bird a very genteel and respectable appearance. The crow ought never to be confined in a cage, but allowed to wander around at will.
The first crow that came into the author’s possession had scarcely escaped from its egg-shell prison before it was taken from the cradle of rough sticks that the parent birds had built near the top of a pine tree.
The bird was christened Billy, and from morn until night the neighbors could hear him as he loudly clamored for food. Before school-time in the morning an egg was broken and the contents of the shell dropped into William’s great red mouth; with a gobbling noise the egg would be swallowed; then as if satisfied for the present he would settle down for a nap. During the noonday recess, Billy, with his red mouth wide open, was always loudly calling for his noontime meal, which consisted of the same material as his breakfast and supper. Three eggs a day kept the little black rascal fat and healthy, and it was not long before the naked little body was covered with a coating of glossy black feathers, and Billy, abandoning the old basket which had served him for a nest, now awaited his master’s return from school, perched upon the iron railing fence of the front yard. From eggs to fresh liver was an easy step, and one that the bird gladly took. Corn he never ate unless it was in the form of “Johnny-cake” or mush; stale meat was his detestation; in fact, a cleaner or more dainty bird in regard to his food was never reared. Billy was not long in making a name and reputation for himself; a more affectionate and mischievous imp never wore a coat of black or buried silver thimbles in a flower bed. Although his pranks were often very annoying, they were always amusing, and no one ever thought the less of the bird for stealing all the fish from the miniature pond, nor did his master’s anger, though great, cause him to administer severe punishment to the black culprit when he discovered the fish all neatly stowed away under the shingles of the rabbit house. When the young rabbits were discovered nicely pressed between the leaves of some books of travel just purchased, the gentleman to whom the books belonged declared war. He went to the lawn to search for Billy, and the bird flew to him, and, alighting upon his shoulder in the most fearless and confident manner, commenced a long explanation of his misdeeds in the crow language. What he said was unintelligible; but the gentleman’s anger was not only mollified but changed to mirth, for he came back to the house laughing heartily. Billy, still perching upon his shoulders, seemingly enjoyed the situation.
Since the writer’s first experiment he has brought up several other crows successfully upon a diet of fresh me
at, bread and milk, and boiled potatoes mixed with eggs.
The Hawk.
Naturally possessed of a wild, fierce nature, loving the open air and the wide, blue sky, the hawk is a born freebooter; but wild and fierce as he is, he may nevertheless be perfectly tamed if taken from the nest when quite young.
After you have obtained a young hawk, make it a rule to always feed it yourself and never allow any one else to do so. Give a peculiar whistle (in the same manner) each time you feed it, and the bird will learn to know the signal and come at the call. Keep the hawk in your company as much as possible, and when you can, set its perch where it will see the people around the house, and become accustomed to their presence; by this means the bird may be taught not to fear man, and it will soon become as harmless as any small cage-bird.
Feed young hawks upon fresh lean meat of any kind. When they grow older they develop a fondness for rats, mice, and small birds. Do not trouble yourself about their drinking-water, as they do not need it.
The Hawk as a “Scare-crow.”
A tame hawk is very useful in keeping the chickens out of the garden. Whenever the writer has placed the perch with his pet hawk upon it in the garden, not a chicken has dared to enter the enclosure; they all seem to know their enemy by instinct, and give it a wide berth.
The hawk himself seems to know when he is doing guard duty, and will sit as motionless as a statue, his head sunk down upon his shoulders, but the keen, bright eyes survey the whole field, and not an object moves that they do not see.
The Hawk as a Decoy.
If you want to trap other birds a tame hawk is a very valuable assistant. At any convenient spot set your bird traps, near by fasten the hawk, and retire a little distance; it will not be many minutes before the small birds will discover their dreaded enemy, and from bush and tree the spunky little feathered warriors will come to give battle. In a few moments the ground and air around the hawk will be filled with robins, catbirds, blackbirds, sparrows, yellowbirds, thrushes, wrens, and even the tiny humming-bird, making up in grit what he lacks in size, will join the other birds in their war against a common foe. In the confusion and bustle that ensues some of the small birds are sure to enter a trap or become entangled in a snare, and must be removed before they injure themselves in struggling to regain their freedom. As soon as you retire a little distance the small birds will again commence their war upon the pet hawk, who is thoroughly competent to take care of himself, so you can devote your whole attention to your traps. As a pet the hawk is a pretty bird, and always charms spectators by his bold, military bearing and his bright, clear eyes.
The American Boy's Handy Book Page 14
