Citizen Bird Part 42

"Come softly," said the Doctor, returning to the roadside; "I have found the Pewee's nest; it is quite new, and has no eggs in it as yet. This way--up along this ledge of rocks, and you can almost look into it."

They moved quietly over the rocks until they reached a pepperidge tree, when the Doctor motioned them to stop and pointed to one of its branches which stretched over the rock. There was a flat nest with an evenly rounded edge, all covered with lichen scales outside.

"It is just like a Hummingbird's nest," whispered Nat.

"Only flatter, more like a saucer than a cup," said Rap. "Is it made of plant-down, too?"

"No--of fine gra.s.ses, rootlets, and bits of bark," said the Doctor; "and in a few days it will hold three or four creamy-white eggs, prettily wreathed around one end with dark-brown spots."

"Pewee, pewee, pe-e-er!" cried the nest owner very sadly.

"We are going home, so you needn't worry, dear," said Dodo.

"Good-night."

CHAPTER XXII

TWO WINGED MYSTERIES

THE NIGHTHAWK

The sun was quite low when the party drove out of the lane; the birds were singing their very best, and Olive stopped the horses on top of the next hill, that they might all look at the beautiful twilight picture around them.

"How quickly the sun slides when it once begins to go!" said Nat. "It looks as if it were going into a cage with the striped clouds for bars."

"Shirk--shirk--boom!" A large bird that had been sailing about overhead dropped through the air till it was almost over the surrey, then turned suddenly and darted upward again.

"What is that?" cried Nat and Dodo.

"That's a Nighthawk--don't you remember the bird we heard early one morning in the river woods? He's looking for small birds to eat,"

answered Rap.

"He is called the Nighthawk, but never eats anything except beetles, flies, and other insects," said the Doctor, "for he is not a real Hawk.

He takes his name from the fact that he dashes about at twilight and in cloudy weather like a Hawk; but his broad, shallow mouth is only suitable for insect-eating, like his cousin's, the Chimney Swift's, and the beak is equally small and feeble, not at all like the strong hooked one of a cannibal bird. Look overhead!"

"There are two light spots like holes through his wings," said Rap. "Ah yes! now I remember about him--we can always tell him from a real Hawk."

"How does he make that queer noise?" asked Nat. "It sounds like when I hit the telegraph wires with stones, or blow in the bunghole of a barrel."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Nighthawk.]

"Watch him when he drops," said the Doctor; "do you not see that he does so with open wings? The air rushes between the long wing-quills and makes the vibrating noise. Now he is up and away again, but you see he keeps circling in the sky."

"Does he build in chimneys?" asked Dodo.

"The Nighthawk does not build any nest; the eggs are laid on bare ground or rock in an open field--occasionally on a house-top. Strange as this seems, the parent birds are so near the color of earth and rock that it is very difficult to find them when they are sitting, the young when hatched are equally invisible, and the eggs themselves look like two little stones--for there are never more than two. I will show you a Nighthawk in my cabinet, and you will see for yourselves how nicely the colors match ground and rocks."

"He looks like a pretty big bird," said Dodo. "How long is he? Is there only one in his family?"

"He has a brother called the Whip-poor-will, that we should meet very soon."

The Nighthawk

Length ten inches.

Mottled black and rusty above. Barred on the under parts with black and white or buff. A white collar on the throat, a white spot going entirely through the wing, and a white band across the tail.

A Summer Citizen of eastern North America, from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada, travelling far south for the winter.

A shy neighbor but a valuable Citizen, belonging to the Ground Gleaners as well as Sky Sweepers.

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL

"This mysterious bird is also a dweller in lonely places, feeding at night in the woods, having no nest, and laying the eggs in a hollow in the ground or on a stump or log. He is so nearly of the color of wood, earth, and rock, that you may pa.s.s near him a hundred times and never see him. Then too, when he perches in the day-time, he does not sit across a branch like other birds, but lengthwise, so that House People and cats cannot see him from below or cannibal birds from above. He is an insect-eater and so goes southward before hard frosts."

"Does this bird make any noise, and why is he called the Whip-poor-will?" asked Nat; "that is such a funny name."

Rap was about to answer when the Doctor signed to him and he stopped.

"Whip-poor-wills call their own name after dark, and I think you will hear them when we pa.s.s the miller's woods in a few minutes; for some reason they seldom come about the Farm."

"I believe I--am--growing--sleepy," murmured Dodo, trying to be polite and swallow a little yawn, but not wholly succeeding.

"I am very sure that _I_ am," said Olive. "I don't think any of us will sit up much later than the birds to-night!"

"I hear a Veery," said Rap, "and a Phoebe too."

"Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! Church!" cried a loud voice close by, and something like a long-winged Owl almost struck Olive with its wing as it flitted past.

"Oh, my!" cried Dodo, waking suddenly, "that must be a Whip-poor-will, for he called his own name as plain as the Chickadee does; and listen!

there are more of them all up the hill."

Soon they pa.s.sed Rap's house and left him at the gate. When the good old white horses trotted in the gate at Orchard Farm, Quick ran out, barking joyfully to tell them all that had happened during the day, and how he had guarded everything safely; but Dodo was fast asleep with her head on her uncle's arm.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Whip-Poor-Will.]

"De death lamb," said Mammy Bun, who came out to help them unload; "don'

you go to wake her up, Ma.s.sa Nat--ole amyl tote her up to bed. Dese am powerful healthy days for you chillness! And Ma.s.sa Doctor and Miss Olive--if they ain' mare's half gone, too! 'Scorpions am terrible sleepy things--least when dere all over!"

The Whip-poor-will

Length nearly ten inches.