The Audubon Reader (6 page)

Several days in succession I went to the spot and saw with pleasure that as my visits increased in frequency the birds became more familiarized to me and, before a week had elapsed, the Pewees and myself were quite on terms of intimacy. It was now the 10th of April; the spring was forward that season, no more snow was to be seen,
Redwings and
Grackles were to be found here and there. The Pewees, I observed, began working at their old
nest. Desirous of judging for myself, and anxious to enjoy the company of this friendly pair, I determined to spend the greater part of each day in the cave. My presence no longer alarmed either of them. They brought a few fresh materials, lined the nest anew and rendered it warm by adding a few large soft feathers of the common goose which they found strewn along the edge of the water in the creek. There was a remarkable and curious twittering in their note while both sat on the edge of the nest at those meetings and which is never heard on any other occasion. It was the soft, tender expression, I thought, of the pleasure they both appeared to anticipate of the future. Their mutual caresses, simple as they might have seemed to another, and the delicate manner used by the male to please his mate, riveted my eyes on these birds and excited sensations which I can never forget.

The female one day spent the greater part of the time in her nest; she frequently changed her position; her mate exhibited much uneasiness; he would alight by her sometimes, sit by her side for a moment and, suddenly flying out, would return with an insect which she took from his bill with apparent gratification. About three o’clock in the afternoon I saw the uneasiness of the female increase; the male showed an unusual appearance of despondence,
when of a sudden the female rose on her feet, looked sidewise under her and flying out, followed by her attentive consort, left the cave, rose high in the air, performing evolutions more curious to me than any I had seen before. They flew about over the water, the female leading her mate as it were through her own meanderings. Leaving the Pewees to their avocations I peeped into their nest and saw there their first egg, so white and so transparent—for I believe, reader, that
eggs soon lose this peculiar transparency after being laid—that to me the sight was more pleasant than if I had met with a diamond of the same size. The knowledge that in an enclosure so frail, life already existed, and that ere many weeks would elapse, a weak, delicate and helpless creature, but perfect in all its parts, would burst the shell and immediately call for the most tender care and attention of its anxious parents, filled my mind with as much wonder as when looking towards the heavens I searched, alas! in vain, for the true import of all that I saw.

In six days, six eggs were deposited; but I observed that as they increased in number the bird remained a shorter time in the nest. The last she deposited in a few minutes after alighting. Perhaps, thought I, this is a law of nature intended for keeping the eggs fresh to the last. Kind reader, what are your thoughts on the subject? About an hour after laying the last egg the female Pewee returned, settled in her nest and, after arranging the eggs as I thought several times under her body, expanded her wings a little and fairly commenced the arduous task of incubation.

Day after day passed by. I gave strict orders that no one should go near the cave, much less enter it, or indeed destroy any bird’s nest on the plantation. Whenever I visited the Pewees one or other of them was on the nest, while its mate was either searching for food or perched in the vicinity filling the air with its loudest notes. I not unfrequently reached out my hand near the sitting bird; and so gentle had they both become, or rather so well acquainted were we, that neither moved on such occasions even when my hand was quite close to it. Now and then the female would shrink back into the nest, but the male frequently snapped at my fingers and once left the nest as if in great anger, flew round the cave a few times, emitting his querulous whining notes and alighted again to resume his labors.

At this very time a Pewee’s nest was attached to one of the rafters of my mill, and there was another under a shed in the cattle yard. Each pair, anyone would have felt assured, had laid out the limits of its own domain, and it was seldom that one trespassed on the grounds of its neighbor. The Pewee of the cave generally fed or spent its time so far above the mill on the creek that he of the mill never came in contact with it. The Pewee of the cattle yard confined himself to the orchard and never disturbed the rest. Yet I sometimes could hear distinctly the notes of the three at the same moment. I had at that period an idea that the whole of these birds were descended from the same stock. If not correct in this supposition, I had ample proof afterwards that the brood of young Pewees raised in the cave returned the following spring and established themselves farther up on the creek and among the outhouses in the neighborhood.

On some other occasion I will give you such instances of the return of birds, accompanied by their progeny, to the place of their nativity that perhaps you will become convinced as I am at this moment that to this propensity every country owes the augmentation of new species, whether of birds or of quadrupeds, attracted by the many benefits met with as countries become more open and better cultivated: but now I will, with your leave, return to the Pewees of the cave.

On the thirteenth day, the little ones were hatched. One egg was unproductive and the female on the second day after the birth of her brood very deliberately pushed it out of the nest. On examining this egg I found it containing the embryo of a bird partly dried up, with its vertebrae quite fast to the shell, which had probably occasioned its death. Never have I since so closely witnessed the attention of birds to their young. Their entrance with insects was so frequently repeated that I thought I saw the little ones grow as I gazed upon them. The old birds no longer looked upon me as an enemy and would often come in close by me, as if I had been a post. I now took upon me to handle the young frequently; nay, several times I took the whole family out and blew off the exuviae of the feathers from the nest. I attached light threads to their legs: these they invariably removed either with their bills or with the assistance of their parents. I renewed them, however, until I found
the little fellows habituated to them; and at last, when they were about to leave the nest, I fixed a light silver thread to the leg of each, loose enough not to hurt the part but so fastened that no exertions of theirs could remove it.

Sixteen days had passed when the brood took to wing; and the old birds, dividing the time with caution, began to arrange the nest anew. A second set of
eggs were laid and in the beginning of August a new brood made its appearance.

The young birds took much to the woods as if feeling themselves more secure there than in the open fields; but before they departed they all appeared strong and minded not making long sorties into the open air over the whole creek and the fields around it. On the 8th of October not a Pewee could I find on the plantation: my little companions had all set off on their travels. For weeks afterwards, however, I saw Pewees arriving from the north and lingering a short time as if to rest, when they also moved southward.

At the season when the Pewee returns to Pennsylvania I had the satisfaction to observe those of the cave in and about it. There again in the very same nest two broods were raised. I found several Pewees’ nests at some distance up the creek, particularly under a bridge and several others in the adjoining meadows attached to the inner part of sheds erected for the protection of hay and grain. Having caught several of these birds on the nest I had the pleasure of finding that two of them had the little ring on the leg.

I was now obliged to go to France, where I remained two years. On my return, which happened early in August, I had the satisfaction of finding three young Pewees in the nest of the cave; but it was not the nest which I had left in it. The old one had been torn off from the roof and the one which I found there was placed above where it stood. I observed at once that one of the parent birds was as shy as possible, while the other allowed me to approach within a few yards. This was the male bird and I felt confident that the old female had paid the debt of nature. Having inquired of the miller’s son I found that he had killed the old Pewee and four young ones to make bait for the purpose of catching fish. Then the male Pewee had brought another female to the cave! As long as the plantation of Mill Grove belonged to me there continued to be a Pewee’s nest in my favorite retreat; but after I
had sold it the cave was destroyed, as were nearly all the beautiful rocks along the shores of the creek, to build a new dam across the Perkiomen.

This species is so peculiarly fond of attaching its
nest to rocky caves that were it called the Rock Flycatcher it would be appropriately named. Indeed I seldom have passed near such a place, particularly during the breeding season, without seeing the Pewee or hearing its notes. I recollect that while traveling in Virginia with a friend, he desired that I would go somewhat out of our intended route, to visit the renowned Rock Bridge of that state. My companion, who had passed over this natural bridge before, proposed a wager that he could lead me across it before I should be aware of its existence. It was early in April; and from the descriptions of this place which I had read I felt confident that the Pewee Flycatcher must be about it. I accepted the proposal of my friend and trotted on, intent on proving to myself that by constantly attending to one subject a person must sooner or later become acquainted with it. I listened to the notes of the different birds which at intervals came to my ear and at last had the satisfaction to distinguish those of the Pewee. I stopped my horse to judge of the distance at which the bird might be and a moment after told my friend that the bridge was short of a hundred yards from us, although it was impossible for us to see the spot itself. The surprise of my companion was great. “How do you know this?” he asked, “for,” continued he, “you are correct.”

“Simply,” answered I, “because I hear the notes of the Pewee and know that a cave or a deep rocky creek is at hand.” We moved on; the Pewees rose from under the bridge in numbers; I pointed to the spot and won the wager.

This rule of observation I have almost always found to work, as arithmeticians say, both ways. Thus the nature of the woods or place in which the observer may be, whether high or low, moist or dry, sloping north or south, with whatever kind of vegetation, tall trees of particular species or low shrubs, will generally disclose the nature of their inhabitants.

The
flight of the Pewee Flycatcher is performed by a fluttering light motion, frequently interrupted by sailings. It is slow when the bird is proceeding to some distance, rather rapid when in
pursuit of prey. It often mounts perpendicularly from its perch after an insect, and returns to some dry twig, from which it can see around to a considerable distance. It then swallows the insect whole unless it happen to be large. It will at times pursue an insect to a considerable distance and seldom without success. It alights with great firmness, immediately erects itself in the manner of hawks, glances all around, shakes its wings with a tremulous motion and vibrates its tail upwards as if by a spring. Its tufty crest is generally erected and its whole appearance is neat if not elegant. The Pewee has its particular stands from which it seldom rambles far. The top of a fence stake near the road is often selected by it, from which it sweeps off in all directions, returning at intervals and thus remaining the greater part of the morning and evening. The corner of the roof of the barn suits it equally well, and if the weather requires it, it may be seen perched on the highest dead twig of a tall tree. During the heat of the day it reposes in the shade of the woods. In the autumn it will choose the stalk of the mullein for its stand and sometimes the projecting angle of a rock jutting over a stream. It now and then alights on the ground for an instant, but this happens principally during winter or while engaged during spring in collecting the materials of which its
nest is composed, in our southern states, where many spend their time at this season.

I have found this species abundant in the Floridas in winter, in full song and as lively as ever, also in Louisiana and the Carolinas, particularly in the cotton fields. None, however, to my knowledge, breed south of Charlestown in South Carolina and very few in the lower parts of that state. They leave Louisiana in February and return to it in October. Occasionally during winter they feed on berries of different kinds and are quite expert at discovering the insects impaled on thorns by the Loggerhead Shrike, and which they devour with avidity. I met with a few of these birds on the Magdeleine Islands, on the coast of Labrador and in Newfoundland.

The nest of this species bears some resemblance to that of the Barn Swallow, the outside consisting of mud with which are firmly impacted grasses or mosses of various kinds deposited in regular strata. It is lined with delicate fibrous roots or shreds of vine bark, wool, horsehair and sometimes a few feathers. The greatest diameter across the open mouth is from five to six inches and
the depth from four to five. Both birds work alternately, bringing pellets of mud or damp earth mixed with moss, the latter of which is mostly disposed on the outer parts, and in some instances the whole exterior looks as if entirely formed of it. The fabric is firmly attached to a rock or a wall, the rafter of a house, &c. In the barrens of Kentucky I have found the nests fixed to the side of those curious places called
sinkholes
and as much as twenty feet below the surface of the ground. I have observed that when the Pewees return in spring, they strengthen their tenement by adding to the external parts attached to the rock as if to prevent it from falling, which after all it sometimes does when several years old. Instances of their taking possession of the nest of the Republican Swallow (
Hirundo fulva
) have been observed in the state of Maine. The eggs are from four to six, rather elongated, pure white, generally with a few reddish spots near the larger end.