Santa Cruz County History
HISTORY OF SANTA CRUZ COUNTY, CALIFORNIA.- E. S. Harrison, Pacific Press Publ. Co., San Francisco, 1891
CHAPTER XII.
OUR FEATHERED SONGSTERS.
BY C. L. ANDERSON.
THE language of a nation is eminently characteristic of that nation. We may know its members by their language. The same is true of other animals than man, and especially so of birds.
This distinguishing feature, it seems to me, deserves more attention in our study of birds. Until we understand bird language and can translate it; until we know the songs, or peculiar notes of each kind of bird, we have not made much advance in the most interesting and useful part of ornithology.
The shooting of birds to get an exact measurement of the different parts of their bodies, the color, etc., is practiced too much and becomes a cruelty. A spyglass, close observation, and a ready ear would give all the information we need in most cases.
A majority of authors pay but little attention to bird notes and language. There is the closest study of everything else. And yet, as Dr. Coues says in his admirable Key to North American Birds, "The song of birds unlocks the great secret of genesis to those who can hear the keynote." The tail, the wings, the bill, the feet, and the color; the nest, the eggs, and the food, in short, all the make-up and habits are comparatively of little significance unless we are educated to understand "the keynote."
We also need a law and its enforcement for the protection and against the wanton destruction of birds and their nests by cruel and thoughtless boys and men. Harmless birds should be protected with the utmost fidelity, in order that we may all enjoy the presence of this "brood of nature's minstrels."
The chief aim of this paper is to call attention to the selection of a choir, which I have been so officious as to undertake.
Everybody feels perfectly competent to select musicians. The selections, however, are not always satisfactory for everybody—especially the musicians.
My attention at present must be wholly confined to bird singers. Even among the feathered songsters my friends do not quite agree. Some would reject this one, or that one, because the notes are too loud, or too soft, too many, or too few, or a lack of harmony, or melody, or something else wrong.
Every bird makes some kind of noise, and that noise may be music to other ears. So who shall say what bird is not a singer? We are told that "soft words with nothing in them make a song." We might then, indeed, class every bird as a songster. And with just as good reason every human being, for that matter, might be called a singer.
That was a bitter couplet of the poet who said:---
"Swans sing before they die; 'twere no sad
thing
Should certain persons die before they sing."
But as this is a bird choir, and I want the greatest variety in it and nobody to talk back, I must be a little arbitrary.
I have troubled my friends pretty considerably about this matter. Dr. J. G. Cooper, of Haywards, who is excellent authority on birds and bird language, as will be noticed by reading his works, has given me much valuable advice. But knowing of the trouble often brooded in choirs of featherless songsters, he requests me not to mention him in connection with these singers. Hence, out of respect to his request, I regretfully abstain from mentioning Dr. Cooper.
Our townsman, Joseph Skirm, Jr., has aided me in making selections. Mr. Skirm is even more than an amateur. Nights, holidays, and vacations generally find him looking at and listening to the birds. His only fault is he will rob their nests sometimes, but for this let us forgive him on account of his many other good qualities.
Mr. George Ready has loaned me books and given me advice and information. If ever he retires from the post office (which is hardly possible) it will be, doubtless, to take charge of some aviary where he can enjoy bird music.
Messrs. Ed. H. Fiske; of Santa Cruz, and R. C. McGregor, of Denver, have also given me information and furnished many notes (that birds could not) in reference to habits, etc., of our native and occasional visitors of the feathered family. From constant study and observation they have become reliable authorities in ornithology. (I only wish they would not use their little guns so much.) They have, at my request, carefully prepared the accompanying list of all the birds of both land and water that are known to reside or visit Santa Cruz County.
There is a general belief, too common, I think, that song birds are comparatively scarce in California. It is true that in the dense forests and in the desert regions birds are scarce. In the forest away from houses, song birds meet with numerous enemies, and are driven away or destroyed. They require the protection of man—the orchard, the stream, the field, fences, pastures, hedges, groves; and, although wild themselves, they delight in domesticity. In fact, when undisturbed they become fairly domestic.
Therefore, we need not, at the proper season, lament a lack of bird songs wherever the circumstances are favorable. If we do not hear the music, it will be our own fault in having ears that do not hear, or because someone has wantonly destroyed the birds or robbed their nests. As cultivation of town and farm increases, and birds of prey and other animals that disturb, are not allowed to come near our dwellings, the feathered songsters will rapidly increase.
If what Dr. Coues says of the mocking bird be true, that he is "susceptible of improvement by education to an astonishing degree," why may not many of the birds that flock around us also be improved ?
And thus the improvement will be mutual. We shall receive the refining influence of their music; while we extend to them protection and education.
In some mid-November rides into our cultivated valleys lately I have learned that the fall and early winter is a good season to observe the birds. They have gathered in large numbers about the fields, and are organizing into musical societies and conversation clubs, cracking jokes, as well as seeds, lessening at the same time the ungathered pears, apples, and other fruits as well as the cankerworms and codlin moths.
So it seems we are pleasantly favored in this region, not only by summer visitors of the "feathered tribe," but many come here from the colder regions of the north and east, and we have their goodly song and presence, which we may enjoy, even in the winter season, equally with the spring and summer days.
(The common names used in this list are those adopted by the American Ornithological Union, which we hope will ever remain unchanged. The numbers refer to McGregor and Fiske's list preceding this article, which gives the scientific name.)
87. Arkansas Kingbird or Flycatcher—Its notes are somewhat varied and noisy, and, like its cousin, Tyrannus Vociferans (which seldom visits us), makes more noise than melody. But he is said to protect the smaller birds by driving away the predacious ones.
90. Olive-sided Flycatcher—A timid, distant bird, uttering its loud, harsh, monotonous notes from the tops of trees in the forest, breaking at times the silence and loneliness by adding a sound more depressing and lonely than the deepest silence.
92. Western Flycatcher—A little, quiet bird—the opposite of the kingbird—comes silently to some little bush-sheltered pool, where flies abound, and utters his difficult, his inimitable notes, making staccatos of flies, for his eating and singing go together.
93. Mexican Horned Lark—Utters his music high in the air, almost out of sight. May and June are the months to enjoy his aerial cantatas. They are constant residents, but seldom sing unless circling in the air, from which it "showers a rain of melody." They, do not alight on trees, but walk (not hop) and build their nests on the ground.
97. Bicolored Blackbird—Red-shouldered blackbird. Has a merry, tinkling, bobolink kind of music when on a tree or fence, or hovering over his nest, which may be in a wheat-field or a marsh. I have been surprised at the variety and richness of his notes, in the mating season.
100. Brewer's Blackbird—The most common blackbird of this region. They are not great musicians. The song in quality is deficient, but they make up in noise for what is lacking in quality. Like cowbirds they follow cattle for the insects that frequent them. In the fall and spring they hold noisy concerts on trees and fences, in which they are sometimes joined by the red-shouldered blackbird. These concerts are free, and in harmony, melody, and genuine music, equal to some of our dollar-and-a-half operas. They are common residents.
98. Western Meadow Lark—One of our most noted singers, never backward or shy; waiting not for an invitation, they greet us from all sides, and at all seasons. The music talent is not confined to the male, as is the case with most of birds, but the female does a part the singing. This shows, as I think, that the meadow lark should head the list of birds. There seems to be an exchange of duties, for while the female is chanting her ballads, the male is sitting on the eggs. Whether the female is permitted to vote or not the books do not say. If she is then the human angels, poor, wingless creatures, would need to sit behind the larks.
99. Bullock's Oriole —A beautiful bird, and a fine singer, but, alas! only a summer visitor. Yet they come in large numbers, returning, after a three months' stay, to the south. When once seen and heard, we never forget them. Their musical notes and beautiful dress add a splendid charm to our groves.
102. California Purple Finch—Sometimes known as "California linnet," but it is not a linnet. The song is somewhat loud and varied and quite musical. They do well in cages, singing as cheerfully as canaries. They are winter visitors, going to the Northern forests in the summer.
103. House Finch—Mexicans call this the "burion," having reference to its red color. It is a clever singer, but very expensive to the orchardist, who would readily exchange it for the poorest musician that would not destroy his cherries and peaches. Sings on the wing at times, "a wild, rapturous gush of bubbling melody," as Mr. Keeler terms it in Zoe, for June, 1890.
109. Western Lark Sparrow—Sometimes called "lark finch." A sweet songster, with notes like the canary, but occasionally a harsh note, which it probably would discard with proper training.
101. Western Evening Grosbeak—Has notes somewhat like the robin. They come and go in small colonies and are very uncertain in their habits. Doubtless same remain here during the winter and go north in the summer.
117. Blackheaded Grosbeak—A fine summer resident, full of sweet, cheerful music, which it dispenses prodigally from thickets and treetops, in "clear, rich, rolling notes," says Dr. Coues. They arrive in April and depart before September.
104. American Goldfinch—Known as "thistle bird" or "yellow bird." They collect in early spring in flocks and give concerts from the tops of trees. Their song is wonderfully discordant, yet not as bad and ear cracking as some human choirs undergoing musical gymnastics on a minor key. The yellow birds' discord is pleasing, and it has sense enough to "move on" generally after one trial.
105. Arkansas Goldfinch—Its habits are much like the American goldfinch. In song they are less noisy—consequently less discordant. Might be kept in cages. I think they remain with us all winter.
106. Lawrence's Goldfinch—This bird is more of a forest bird than the other goldfinches. In song differs little from the other species. All these goldfinches feed on grass seeds, buds, and seeds of various weeds.
108. Bryant's Marsh Sparrow—This little songster is much like the Eastern Savana sparrow in song and habits. Its home seems to be on the Alaskan coast, and not the Sandwich Islands, as its name would indicate. It is quite at home in Santa Cruz, about our sandy marshes, and a cheery songster. Ammodramus means a sand runner—a name given to our seaside sparrows.
110. Gambel's Sparrow—One of our prettiest birds. Has fair musical talents of rather a melancholy order. Loud, short song, heard sometimes at night, but quite different from the "long-tailed chat," which also is a night singer. Inhabits brushy places, and is a constant resident. Frequently known as the "white-crowned sparrow," which it closely resembles.
Mr. Chas. A. Keeler has written the typical song of this sparrow, which may be found in Zoe for May, 1890, together with notes of the golden-crowned sparrow, comparing the two. He says it sings on the darkest nights, only a single bar, and does not repeat on the same night. A good example, I might suggest, for some other singers.
113. Samuel's Song Sparrow—A little bird, but there are few sparrows can make better, more cheerful, or sunnier music. Inhabits gardens, bushes, and hedges, where he sits to "plume his gay suit and pay us with a song."
118. Lazula Bunting—A charmingly-dressed bird, with "lapis-lazula blue" about the head, neck, and lining of wings. Not so remarkable for song as dress, and is added to our list more on that account. Sometimes called the "blue linnet." It is a summer visitor. The males do the singing from tree or bush, but the females, being so plain in dress, and consequently shy, are seldom seen.
128. Warbling Virco—A neat, plain little warbler, imitative notes, and an exquisite songster. "Tenderness and softness of the liquid strains," is the language of one author. A summer resident, in orchard, park, or shady street. Sometimes nesting in shrubbery about the windows of houses.
128½. Cassino Vireo, or Greenlet—Much the same in habit and song as V. gilvus. The vireos are exclusively insectivorous. They are delightful forest birds. The sexes are both alike in dress and color, and, doubtless, unlike the Bunting, enjoy equal political privileges.
130. Lutescent Warbler—The "worm-loving, orange-crowned warbler," as its name signifies, has "a simple trill, which is low, but rather musical and audible for a long distance in the silent regions they inhabit." Lone trees and shrubbery away from town or farm is their choice.
138. Pileolated Warbler—The name of this bird, if literally translated, would read, "The little black-capped, forest-loving, fly-catching western warbler." There is scarcely a summer visitor that comes to Santa Cruz with as many titles as this bird. And he is not a poor singer either.
137. Longtailed Chat—This is the bird that sings in its dreams at night, or, rather, chats in its sleep. But it is by no means a silent bird in the daytime. It keeps up a constant conversation with itself. I have sometimes thought a little grove was full of cats, thrushes, bobolinks, and blue jays, when there was, in fact, but one chat. It would make a capital addition to a conversation club. Dr. Cooper says Santa Cruz is the only place on the coast where he has found this bird, as they prefer the warmer valleys. Here in Santa Cruz it spends its summers, going south in the winter.
136. Western Yellowthroat—Enlivens the shrubbery and underbrush with its hearty song throughout the summer months. Goes south in. the winter.
131. Yellow Warbler—Called also "Summer Yellow Bird," "Blue-eyed Yellow Warbler," and " Golden Warbler." Has a sprightly, spring time song. They frequent trees along rivers and come into orchards for their insect food, singing their short but pleasing songs.
132. Audubon's Warbler—A winter visitor. Only sings a little in the spring before going to its northern residence. Can hardly be considered more than an honorary member of our choir.
140. Water Ouzel, American Dipper—Dr. Cooper tersely describes this bird thus: "It combines the form of a sandpiper, the song of a canary, and the aquatic habits of a duck."
While we are pondering over some sweet strains of music from somewhere, and looking at a plain little bird on a rock, suddenly the bird and music disappear, and we only see some diamond-like bubbles rising in the water, and we begin to think that we have been dreaming, when suddenly the bird comes to the surface without a drop on its feathers, taking up the song where it left off. That was the Water Ouzel.
119½. Louisiana Tanager—A beautiful bird and fine singer; and too seldom even summer visitor at Santa Cruz. I add it to the list for sake of variety, and because it belongs to brilliant and numerous family of sub-tropical birds not otherwise represented in California. It is sometimes called the "Crimson-headed Tanager." They follow the mountain ranges during the summer and seldom come down to the coast, and then only take items about the brilliant bathing dresses at our beach.
119. Western Martin—Has a pleasing twittering song. It is a near relative of the Eastern bird so frequently nesting in "martin boxes" prepared for its use in the vicinity of houses. Holes in trees answer its purpose in California. It is classed with the swallows, and is a summer resident, returning to the south‑
"When the swallows homeward fly."
Mockingbird—Our local ornithologists say they have not seen this bird about Santa Cruz and hence omit it from the list. Dr. Cooper saw it near Monterey. Lyman Belding has seen it about Marysville and Copperopolis. I have a fancy of having heard it near Santa Cruz. Doubtless it visits this place occasionally, and we may expect to find it some day, if not wild at least as an escape from somebody's cage.
141. Californian Thrasher—This is the "sickle-billed mockingbird," and may be found in brushy places of our foothills. His music is rich and melodious. He is very careful not to cloy with too much, and we always turn away with a desire for more. His natural talents are splendid—he only needs the cultivation that the M. polyglottus has had. His mimicry is also of a high order.
141½. Rock Wren—Their music is thrush-like, though not so loud, singing through the spring months. They are busy little fellows, living in barren, rocky places; they have little time to take music lessons, so they mainly depend on their natural talents, of which they have a good share.
142. Vigor's Wren—Sometimes called the "Mocking Wren" on account of its varied notes and kinds of song. "Speckled-tailed Reed Wren" is an other descriptive name. It remains with us in certain localities all the year.
143. Parkman's Wren, House Wren—Not an accomplished singer but gives plain, old-fashioned wren songs, nearly the same as its Eastern cousin. It is domestic in its habits, and should be encouraged. Dr. Cooper says it builds its nest in old hats and empty skulls. Some of us better look to our heads when this bird is common.
144. Western Winter Wren—Its song is somewhat remarkable, being rather long and sweet. It will run through a hollow stump or log like a mouse, and has a passion for stumps and waterfalls. It sings under gloomy skies as well as in sunshine, in the forest as well as on the open hillside, always "happy under adverse circumstances:"
145. Tule Wren—Inhabits tule swamps, hence called "Marsh Wren" sometimes. The male flies into the air warbling his little ditty just over the rushes, settling again to the business of life,—the hunting of insects that also try to live honest lives among the tules. They are winter birds with us.
150½. Plain Titmouse—They are said to utter some fine musical notes. They live in small parties among the live oaks and feed on acorns and insects. Among its favorite call notes we may often recognize chick-a-dee-dee and peto-peto. It would probably make an interesting cage bird, as one of its relatives does in the East. Is a constant resident.
148. California Chickadee—This little chickadee is not a great musician, but it is native born, and stays all the year. It is called "neglecta" because the bird students failed to find it, or neglected to describe it for a long time. It lives in the pine forests, is always busy attending to its own business, seldom comes to town to hear concerts, and hence has been neglected.
149½. Ruby Crowned Kinglet—This little beauty, with a scarlet patch on his crown, has a wonderful vocal power, which, with its other attractions, makes it a very interesting forest bird. It is a winter visitor, going to the Sierras in the summer.
154. Western Bluebird—The song is said to be less sweet than that of the Eastern bluebird. But it is possible that with the same care in cultivation given its Eastern cousin, it may sing quite as well if not better in time. Their notes, however, are more complex, sounding as if two were singing where there is only one.
152. Western Robin—They arrive in flocks early in the winter and leave in the early spring. The song is nearly the same as the eastern robin, but less powerful. May be heard at evening and early morning on the taller trees. A few remain probably through the summer.
151. Russet-Backed Thrush—This is one of our most reliable and satisfactory singers during the whole summer. We never lack for music while the Russet-backed Thrush is near; he begins early and sings until long after sunset. The woodlands and groves, especially near the towns, are full of these birds and their music at the right season.
153. Varied Thrush—In October these birds come into the groves of our foothills and fill the air with their music, which is sweet, reminding us of the Eastern robin.
149. Wren-tit or Ground Wren—Some say this bird cannot sing; others give it a No. 1 place on the list. Dr. Coues says, "It is a remarkable bird, resembling no other common in shrubbery." It can live for months without water. It has notes like the wrens, and loud call notes. Gamble described it in 1847; and, remarkable as it may seem, its name has never been changed. For that reason, if not for its musical talents, it should adorn every list of birds.
With this remarkable and curious bird, which as yet has no certain place assigned it, I close the list of our feathered songsters—our choir of forty-five choice singers. There may be serious omissions. Some night in my dreams, possibly, there may come a " tapping at my chamber door." Perhaps some
" Ghastly grim and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore,"
may pay me a visit, one not classed by the bird authors among the Oscines, or one, perchance, that has been unfairly omitted, may come to my dreams.
I will confess now that this list does not contain all the good singers. Variety rather than quality has been the aim, and if any have not been chosen, it must be owing to this reason, and not that any were considered unworthy to belong to our "feathered songsters."
There is another matter to be considered: As birds have wings, they fly hither and thither. They may visit us one year and not return again for a long time. Therefore, being migratory, we are not always sure that they are our birds. Hence, we may have claimed some that do not belong here, and omitted some that are clearly at home in Santa Cruz. It would be well, then, if our sins of commission and omission could balance each other.
Transcribed by Kathy Sedler