p>Birds and Nature Vol. 11 No. 4 [April 1902]
WHAT TIME O’ YEAR?
In leafless woods, the purpled wind-flower sways,
And violets, in penciled lines, or blue,
Blossom in gentle groups, and, blanched of hue,
The fern unfolds, by painted orchis sprays.
The columbine, on hills and sandy braes
Swings to the bees, that colored pollens strew
Below its bells, while singing, soared from view,
The meadow-lark still mounts the heavenward ways.
I know thee, April! thine the azure mist,
Lifted and lowered, like a lady’s veil,
Before the rims of woodland sunshine kissed;
And thine the lated twilight’s golden sail,
When slanting lines of fire and amethyst,
Riot in withered field and sodden swale.
APRIL
“Here is April!” cuckoo cries
From the tall tree near the skies;
“April! April!” croaks the frog
From his dank hole in the bog;
“April!” sings the thrush again
From his clay nest in the lane.
April, ’tis thy merry weather
Makes the wild colt burst his tether;
April in his royal dower
Has soft sunbeam and sharp shower;
April is the very soul of youth,
Eye of love, and heart of truth —
That is April.
THE BLACK-CHINNED HUMMINGBIRD
(Trochilus alexandri.)
To the ornithologist who may be so fortunate as to visit Southern California in the spring, when Nature has put on her holiday attire, and everything appears at its best, our friends, the feathered midgets, will contribute not a little to the pleasure of his stay.
The Black-chinned Hummingbird has a long and narrow range extending along the Pacific coast from Southern British Columbia southward into Southern Mexico, where it passes the winter. Eastward its range extends to Western Montana, Western Colorado, New Mexico, and Western Texas. In some portions of this range it is very abundant, while in others that are apparently as well suited to its habits it is rare, or never seen at all.
This Hummingbird, which also bears the name Purple-throated and Alexandre’s Hummingbird, is very similar in its habits to our eastern ruby-throat. Even in its call notes and antics while wooing its mate it is almost a counterpart of the eastern species.
Next to the Anna’s hummingbird, the Black-chinned is the most conspicuous of all the hummingbirds that frequent southern California. At twilight it is a frequent visitor to the orange groves, and later, as night approaches, it retires to the mountain sides, where, with numerous individuals of its own kind and other birds, it finds a resting place through the dark hours.
Mr. B. T. Gault has related an interesting anecdote that occurred in his experience with hummingbirds. He once found a nest of the Black-chinned species in which there were eggs nearly ready to hatch. Wishing the nest, which was an exceedingly fine one, he cut the branch only to find the eggs of no value as specimens. Finally, finding a nest in which there were two fresh eggs, he took them and substituted the two older ones. The female bird watched this action from a nearby branch. Returning a few days later, he was surprised to find two little naked worm-like bodies in the nest. Naturally satisfied and pleased over the result of his experiment he says: “The old bird seemed pleased too, as she watched me from a neighboring branch, while arranging her feathers, evidently wondering why I should take such a deep interest in her treasures. And well she might be pleased, for incubation had been robbed of all its tediousness in this case and the pair acting on this assumption undoubtedly hatched another brood, but not in such haste, I venture to say.”
The nests are delicate affairs, and in many cases resemble small sponges, readily assuming their normal form if the edges are pressed together. The inner cup is seldom more than one inch in diameter. The walls are usually composed of the down of willows. This is firmly woven by an unsparing use of spider web. Usually a few small leaves and scales of willow buds are attached to the outer face, evidently to give it stability.
It has been stated that hummingbirds invariably lay but two eggs in each set. The female Black-chinned Hummingbird seems to be at least one of the exceptions that prove the rule. Major Bendire says that “nests of this species now and then contain three eggs, all evidently laid by the same female, and such instances do not appear to be especially rare.”
The Black-chinned Hummingbird is like all the other birds of its kind. Always inquisitive, never afraid to combat a foe and always active, the lines of Jones Very are especially applicable to its character:
Like thoughts that flitted across the mind,
Leaving no lasting trace behind,
The humming-bird darts to and fro,
Comes, vanishes before we know.
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ANTELOPE
I cannot tell you the exact date of my birth. As I was separated from my mother at a very early age, this lack of knowledge on my part, I think, should be excused. But Polly has often told me it was the second day of April, 1866, that I came into her possession.
On that particular morning the wind was very high and had a stinging bite in it and my mother, after giving me my breakfast, left me nestled down in a bunch of tall, dry grass, and went out for her own breakfast.
I soon fell asleep. How long I had slept I do not know, when I was suddenly aroused from my comfortable nap by a large, dark animal snorting right over me. Of course, I was very much frightened and wished my mother would come to me. If I had not been so shaky on my legs I would have run away in search of her, but my feet had an uncomfortable way of getting too far apart, and my body seemed entirely too heavy for my legs; so I lay very still, hoping that this strange object might pass on and not disturb me. But a few moments later there bent over me what I soon after learned was a man.
“Hello!” he said, “here is a baby antelope. There – don’t struggle so, or you will break your pipe-stem legs.”
Soon I found that it was useless for me to try to free myself from his grasp, for while he was not at all rough, he held me quite firmly. Then I began to shiver from fear; also from the cold wind.
“Poor little fellow – he is cold,” the man said, soothingly, and he took a blanket from the pommel of his saddle and wrapped it around me. Then, mounting his horse, with me still in his arms, we set out across the prairie. After about half an hour he stopped at a gate, where there were several log cabins huddled together.
“Polly! Come here, Polly!” the man called, and a little flaxen-haired girl came running from one of the cabins.
“What is it, papa?” she called, as she opened the heavy gate.
“It is a new pet for you – a baby antelope,” and he handed me down to her.
Polly put me on the ground and lifted the blanket from around me.
“Oh, the funny little darling!” she cried. “Papa, he is all legs and spots, and – and ears.”
“Yes,” the man replied; “he will soon lose his spots, but his legs and ears will stay with him, and it won’t be very long until he will show you how he can use those long legs of his.”
The man rode away, and Polly carried me into the house, where everybody handled and