Audubon's Birds/BIRDSVER1_3.BIN/dp/0009/00094.txt

Text File | 1992-08-27 | 24KB | 351 lines

$Unique_ID{BRD00094}
$Pretitle{}
$Title{The Pewee Flycatcher}
$Subject{Muscicapinae; Muscicapa; Sayornis; fusca; phoebe; Pewee Flycatcher;
Eastern Phoebe}
$Journal{Birds of America:  Volume I}
$Volume{Vol. 1:223-231}
$Family{Muscicapinae}
$Genus{Muscicapa; Sayornis}
$Species{fusca; phoebe}
$Common_Name{Pewee Flycatcher; Eastern Phoebe}
$Log{
Plate LXIII*00094p1.scf
Family*00080.txt
Genus*00084.txt
}

       Portions copyright (c) Creative Multimedia Corp., 1990-91, 1992

                       B I R D S   O F   A M E R I C A .

                    By John James Audubon, F. R. SS. L. & E.

                   ------------------------------------------
                                    VOL. I.
                        --------------------------------


                             THE PEWEE FLYCATCHER.
                               [Eastern Phoebe.]


                             MUSCICAPA FUSCA, Gmel.
                               [Sayornis phoebe.]


                         PLATE LXIII.--MALE AND FEMALE.


     Connected with the biography of this bird are so many incidents relative to
my own, that could I with propriety deviate from my proposed method, the present
number would contain less of the habits of birds than of those of the youthful
days of an American woodsman.  While young, I had a plantation that lay on the
sloping declivities of the Perkiomen creek.  I was extremely fond of rambling
along its rocky banks, for it would have been difficult to do so either without
meeting with a sweet flower, spreading open its beauties to the sun, or
observing the watchful King-fisher perched on some projecting stone over the
clear water of the stream.  Nay, now and then, the Fish Hawk itself, followed by
a White-headed Eagle, would make his appearance, and by his graceful aerial
motions, raise my thoughts far above them into the heavens, silently leading me
to the admiration of the sublime Creator of all.  These impressive, and always
delightful, reveries often accompanied my steps to the entrance of a small cave
scooped out of the solid rock by the band of nature.  It was, I then thought,
quite large enough for my study.  My paper and pencils, with now and then a
volume of EDGEWORTH's natural and fascinating Tales or LAFONTAINE's Fables,
afforded me ample pleasures.  It was in that place, kind reader, that I first
saw with advantage the force of parental affection in birds.  There it was that
I studied the habits of the Pewee; and there I was taught most forcibly, that to
destroy the nest of a bird, or to deprive it of its eggs or young, is an act of
great cruelty.
     I had observed the nest of this plain-coloured Flycatcher fastened, as it
were, to the rock immediately over the arched entrance of this calm retreat.  I
had peeped into it:  although empty, it was yet clean, as if the absent owner
intended to revisit it with the return of spring.  The buds were already much
swelled, and some of the trees were ornamented with blossoms, yet the ground was
still partially covered with snow, and the air retained the piercing chill of
winter.  I chanced one morning early to go to my retreat.  The sun's glowing
rays gave a rich colouring to every object around.  As I entered the cave, a
rustling sound over my head attracted my attention, and, on turning, I saw two
birds fly off, and alight on a tree close by:--the Pewees had arrived!  I felt
delighted, and fearing that my sudden appearance might disturb the gentle pair,
I walked off; not, however, without frequently looking at them.  I concluded
that they must have just come, for they seemed fatigued:--their plaintive note
was not heard, their crests were not erected, and the vibration of the tail, so
very conspicuous in this species, appeared to be wanting in power.  Insects were
yet few, and the return of the birds looked to me as prompted more by their
affection to the place, than by any other motive.  No sooner had I gone a few
steps than the Pewees, with one accord, glided down from their perches and
entered the cave.  I did not return to it any more that day, and as I saw none
about it, or in the neighbourhood, I supposed that they must have spent the day
within it.  I concluded also that these birds must have reached this haven,
either during the night, or at the very dawn of that morn.  Hundreds of
observations have since proved to me that this species always migrates by night.
     I went early next morning to the cave, yet not early enough to surprise
them in it.  Long before I reached the spot, my ears were agreeably saluted by
their well-known note, and I saw them darting about through the air, giving
chase to some insects close over the water.  They were full of gaiety,
frequently flew into and out of the cave, and while alighted on a favourite tree
near it, seemed engaged in the most interesting converse.  The light fluttering
or tremulous motions of their wings, the jetting of their tail, the erection of
their crest, and the neatness of their attitudes, all indicated that they were,
no longer fatigued, but on the contrary refreshed and happy.  On my going into
the cave, the male flew violently towards the entrance, snapped his bill sharply
and repeatedly, accompanying this action with a tremulous rolling note, the
import of which I soon guessed.  Presently he flew into the cave and out of it
again, with a swiftness scarcely credible:  it was like the passing of a shadow.
     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 Grakles 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, rivetted 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 loose 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 bu