Stories of Birds Part 13

"Be brave, my Halcyone," said the shade of the dead king. "Be brave and patient, and soon perchance, if the G.o.ds will, thou shalt come to me in the land of shades."

When the dream left her, Halcyone sprang from her couch and ran again to the seash.o.r.e. She stretched out her arms and called aloud to Aeolus, the father of the winds.

"O great father Aeolus," she prayed, "give me wings so large and strong that they will carry me to the spot where the king now lies.

"Hear me, Aeolus! Hear Halcyone, thy child!"

And as she prayed, lo, she rose slowly into the air. The folds of her blue robe enwrapped her.

Halcyone floated out across the sea. Again and again her breast touched the white crest of the waves and left its foam on her throat and on the bosom of her dress.

On and on she sped across the billowy waters. Her wings were firm, strong, untiring.

At last, floating upon the water she spied the form of the king. With a hoa.r.s.e rattling in her throat she called to him.

With her strong wings outspread, Halcyone hung motionless above the king. Those broken cries came again and again from her throat.

And Juno, looking down from her cloudland home, saw Halcyone kneeling on the waves beside the dead king. She leaned down from her place in the heavens and touched the king's forehead.

Lo! there rose from the water two strong-winged birds in dresses of blue and white.

"Ah," sighed Aeolus, "let us call them the halcyon birds, for the lovely Halcyone, whose love did not fail her.

"Let these birds live ever beside the waters and rear their young in peace and quiet.

"Behold, when Halcyone broods over her little ones I will hold my winds in check. The waters shall be quiet and the sun shall shine merrily.

"And these days of peace and quiet and happiness shall be called 'halcyon days,' for ever."

ALL ABOUT THE KINGFISHER

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS

Comes north in early March--remains until December, often throughout the year.

Song--harsh, discordant, laughing chuckle or rattle--never musical.

Upper parts blue--wings and tail with white markings--lower parts white with two blue bands across breast--bluish tinge on sides--a white spot in front of each eye.--Head large and crested--bill longer than head--feet small.

Food--princ.i.p.ally fish which it obtains by diving and kills by striking against a tree if large, or swallows alive if small.--This food supplemented by larger insects, shrimps, etc.

Nest--tunnelled out of bank--six to eight feet deep--at the extreme end of tunnel is the nest made of fish-bones and scales.

Eggs--pure white--four to six in one brood.

THE RED-HEADED WOODp.e.c.k.e.r

[Ill.u.s.tration: Woodp.e.c.k.e.r]

IN CAP OF RED

Phyllis sat in her own room, rocking her doll to sleep. The window was open and the curtain flapped idly in the breeze.

Presently into the room darted a bird. He was beautifully dressed.

His soft gray uniform was spotted and barred with white.

He did not seem in the least alarmed when he found himself in the room with Phyllis. He perched on the window-ledge and did not even glance at the little girl.

In a moment he flew to the ledge above her door. With his strong little bill he began to rap, rap, rap at the wood.

"You act like a woodp.e.c.k.e.r, but you do not look like one," said Phyllis.

"That shows that you do not know all about woodp.e.c.k.e.rs," said the gray, downy bird. "I belong to the family of red-headed woodp.e.c.k.e.rs."

"You?" cried Phyllis, amazed. "But where is your red cap, and where is your white vest, and where is your black coat? You are trying to fool me, my friend."

"My father and mother have crimson heads and necks and throats. They have white b.r.e.a.s.t.s. They have black backs and wings and tails. When they fly, the broad white bands on the wings are quite plain to be seen.

"My home nest is that in the trunk of the old oak by the gate."

"It is very queer," said Phyllis. "Perhaps some other bird laid an egg in the woodp.e.c.k.e.rs' nest by mistake."

The small bird fluttered quite helplessly with laughter.

"Oh, no, Phyllis, I see I have to tell you all about it. I am a woodp.e.c.k.e.r, surely. But I am quite young yet. It is not a week since I had my first lesson in flying."

"You fly very well for a young bird," said Phyllis.

"Well, my mother is very wise," said the bird.

"She does not think it well for her babies to get out of the nest until they have grown quite large. She says that if we wait until our wings are strong we will not be so apt to fall into danger.

"So I remained inside the nest until I was quite a large, strong bird.

Then my parents called me out and taught me to fly.

"Only yesterday I asked my mother why I did not wear a dress and cap like her own.

"She said, 'Wait a little longer, my child. When you are quite grown your cap will be as red as my own. You will look so much like your father and me that those children down there will be unable to tell us apart.'

"It is little wonder that you did not know me for a woodp.e.c.k.e.r in this simple gray dress. All woodp.e.c.k.e.r children, however, dress in this quiet fashion at first. I shall be happy when I get my gorgeous red cap."

"Well," said Phyllis, "I am very glad you came to see me. I knew there was a nest in the old oak-tree. I watched your father and mother one whole morning a few weeks ago. I think they chose the oak because of those old dead branches.