As we have said, they are among the most useful of the insect
destroyers. The golden-crested kinglet is a little mite of a bird, not
four inches long, with a central patch of orange-red on his crown. He
breeds in the far North, and wintering here is for him like going to the
South. In summer he is a flycatcher, but here he searches the bark of
forest trees with microscopic scrutiny for the larvae of insects. We all
know the lively black-capped chickadees that fly around in flocks
throughout the winter. Sometimes their search for food leads them into
the heart of towns and cities, where they are as bold and as much at home
as the English sparrow. They also gather around the camps of log-cutters
in the forest, become very tame, and plaintively cry for their share in
the meals. They remain all the year, nesting in decayed logs, posts,
stumps, and even in sides of houses, although they prefer the edge of a
wood. If they can find a hole to suit them, very well; if they can't,
they will make one. Their devotion to their young is remarkable. A nest
in a decayed stump was uncovered, and the mother bird twice taken off by
hand, and each time she returned and covered her brood. She uttered no
cries or complaints, but devotedly interposed her little form between
what must have seemed terrific monsters and her young, and looked at the
human ogres with the resolute eyes of self-sacrifice. If she could have
known it, the monsters only wished to satisfy their curiosity, and were
admiring her beyond measure.
Pages:
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156