after the wren-tit stole in like a thief in the night and broke up the pretty home of the gnatcatchers, i suspected that they took their house down to put it up again in a safer place, and so was constantly on the lookout to find where that safer place was. at last, one day, i heard the welcome sound of their familiar voices, and following their calls finally discovered them flying back and forth to a high branch on an old oak-tree; both little birds working and talking together. mind, i do not stake my word on this being the same pair of gnats; but the nest followed closely on the heels of the plundered one, which was a point in its favor, and, being anxious to take up the lines with my small friends again, i let myself think they were the birds of the sand ditch nest. it was such a delight to find them that i deserted the nest i had been watching, and went to spend the next morning with my old friends. the tree they had chosen was a high oak in an open space in the brush, and they were building fifteen or twenty feet above the ground—so high that it was necessary[49] to keep an opera-glass focused on the spot to see what was going on at their small cup.
as the birds worked, i was filled with forebodings by seeing a pair of wren-tits on the premises. they went about in the casual indifferent way sad experience had shown might cover a multitude of evil intentions, and which made me suspect and resent their presence. how had they found the poor little gnats? it was not hard to tell. how could they help finding such talkative fly-abouts? but if birds are in danger from all the world, including those who should be their comrades and champions, why should not builders keep as still at the nest as brooding birds, instead of heedlessly giving information to observers that lurk about taking notes for future misdeeds? but then, could gnatcatchers keep still anywhere at any time? no, that was not to be hoped for. i could only watch the little chatterers from hour to hour and be thankful for every day that their home was unmolested.
it was interesting to see how the jaunty indifferent gnats would act when settling down to plain matters of business. strange to say, they proved to be the most energetic, tireless, and skillful of builders. their floor had been laid—on the branch—before i arrived on the scene, and they were at work on the walls. the plan seemed to be twofold, to make the walls compact and strong by using only fine bits of material and[50] packing them tightly in together; while at the same time they gave form to the nest and kept it trim and shipshape by moulding inside, and smoothing the rim and outside with neck and bill. sometimes the bird would smooth the brim as a person sharpens a knife on a whetstone, a stroke one way and then a stroke the other. when the sides were not much above the floor, one bird came with a bit of material which it proceeded to drill into the body of the wall. it leaned over and threw its whole weight on it, almost going head first out of the nest, and had to flutter its wings to recover itself. the birds usually got inside to build, but there was a twig beside the nest that served for scaffolding, and they sometimes stood on that to work at the outside.
at first they seemed to take turns at building, working rapidly and changing places quite regularly; but one morning when seated under the oak i saw that things were not as they had been. perhaps a difference of opinion had arisen on architectural points, and mrs. gnatcatcher had taken matters into her own hands. at all events, this is what happened: instead of rapid changes of place, when one of the gnats was at work its mate flew up and started to go to the nest, hesitated, and backed away; then unwilling to give up having a finger in the pie, advanced again. this was kept up till the little bird put its pride in its pocket, and gently gave over its cherished bit of material to its mate at the nest![51]
now as these gnatcatchers had the bad taste to dress so nearly alike that i could not tell them apart, i was left to my own surmises as to which took the material. still, who could it have been but mrs. gnat? would she give over the house to mr. gnat at this critical moment? she doubtless wanted to decorate as she went along, and men aren't supposed to know anything about such trivial matters! on the other hand, it might easily be he, for, supposing he had come of a family of superior builders, surely he would want to see to the laying of substantial walls; and unquestionably a good wall was the important part of this nest. alas! it was a clear case of "the lady or the tiger." to complicate matters, the birds worked so fast, so high over my head, and so hidden by the leaves, that i had much ado to keep track of their exchanges at all. if i could only catch them and tie a pink ribbon around one of their necks!—then, at least, i would know which was doing what, or if it was doing what it hadn't done before! it is inconsiderate enough of birds to wear the same kind of clothes, but to talk alike too, when hidden by the leaves—that, indeed, is a straw to break the camel's back. if small gray gnatcatchers up in the treetops had only been big black magpies low in the brush, my testimony regarding their performances might be of more value; but then, the magpies of my acquaintance were so shy they would have none of[52] me; so although life and field work are full of disappointments, they are also full of compensations.
not being able to do anything better with the gnat problems, i guessed at which was which—when i saw no. 2 go to the nest and no. 1 reluctantly make way as if not wanting no. 2 to meddle, i drew my own conclusions, although they were not scientifically final. i did see one thing that was satisfactory, as far as it went. one of the birds came with big tufts of stiff moss sticking out from either side of its bill like great mustachios, and going up to the nest, handed them to its mate—actually something big enough for a person to see, once! whatever had been the birds' first feeling as to which should put the bricks in the wall, it was all settled now, and the little helpmate flew off singing out such a happy good-by it made one feel like writing a sermon on the moral effect of renunciation. after that i was sure the little helper fed his (?) mate on the nest, again singing out good-by as he flitted away. once when he (?) brought material he found her (?) busy with what she had, and so went to the other end of the branch, and waited till she was ready for it, when he flew back and gave it to her.
it was a real delight to watch the little blue-grays at their work. once as one of them started to fly away—i am sure this was she—she suddenly stopped to look back at the nest as if to think what she wanted to get next; or, perhaps,[53] just to get the effect of her work at a distance, as an artist walks away from his painting; or as any mother bird would stop to admire the pretty nest that was to hold her little brood. another time one of the gnats,—i was sure this was he,—having driven off an enemy, flipped his tail by the nest with a paternal air of satisfaction. the birds made one especially pretty picture; the little pair stood facing each other close to the nest, and the sun, filtering through the green leaves over their heads, touched them gently as they lingered near their home.
one morning when a gnat was in the nest a leaf blew down past it, startling it so it hopped out in such a hurry that the first i knew it was seated beneath the nest, flashing its tail.
back and forth the dainty pair flew across the space of blue sky between the oak and the brush. they went so fast and carried so little it seemed as if they might have made their heads save their heels—they brought so little i couldn't see that they brought anything; but i feel delicate about telling what i know about nest-making, and it may be that this was just the secret of the wonderfully compact solid walls of the nest; a little at a time, and that drilled in to stay.
when one of the small builders flew down near me—within two yards—for material, i felt greatly pleased and flattered. her mate warned her, but she paid no particular attention to him,[54] and with jaunty twists and turns hopped about on the dead limbs, giving hurried jabs at the cobwebs she was gathering. once she rubbed her little cheek against a twig as if a thread of the cobweb had gotten in her eye. she dashed in among the dead leaves after something, but flew back with a start as if she had seen a ghost. she was not to be daunted, however, and after whipping her tail and peering in for a moment, hopped bravely down again. sometimes, when collecting cobweb, the gnat would whip its tail and snap its bill snip, snip, snip, as if cutting the web with a pair of scissors.
i was amused one day by seeing a gnat fly down from the oak to the brush with what looked like a long brown caterpillar. the worm dangling from the tip of his beak was almost as large as the bird, and the little fellow had to crook his tail to keep from being overbalanced and going on his bill to the ground.
as the nest went up, the leaves hid it; but i could still see the small wings and tails flip up in the air over the edge of the cup and jerk about as the bird moulded. i watched the workers so long that i felt quite competent to build a nest myself, till happening to remember that it required gnatcatcher tools.
ornithologists are discouraging people to wait for, and mountain billy got so restless under the gnat tree that he had to invent a new fly-brush[55] for himself. on one side of the oak the branches hung low to the ground, and he pushed into the tangle till the green boughs rested on his back and he was almost hidden from view. meanwhile i sat close beside the chaparral wall, where all sorts of sounds were to be heard, suggestive of the industries of the population hidden within the brush at my back. hearing small footsteps, i peered in through the brown twigs, and to my delight saw a pair of stately quail walking over the ground, promenading through the brush avenues. afterwards i caught sight of a gray animal, probably a wood rat, running down a branch behind me, and heard queer muffled sounds of gnawing.
suddenly, looking back, i was startled to see a big ringed brown and yellow snake lying like a rope at the foot of the gnat's tree, just where i had sat. he was about four feet long, and had twenty-three rings. he started to wind into the crotch of the oak as if meaning to climb the tree, but instead, crept to a stump and festooned himself about it worming around the holes as he might do if looking for nest holes. imagine how a mother bird would feel to have him come stealing upon her little brood in that horrid way! when he crawled over the dead leaves i noted with a shiver that he made no sound. thinking of the gnats, i watched his every movement till he had left the premises and wormed his way off through[56] the brush. though quite engrossed with the gnats, it was finally forced upon me that there is more than one family in the world. the blue-gray's oak was a favored one. a pair of hang-birds had built there before the gnats came, and now two more families had come, making four for the big oak.
when first suspecting a house on the north side of the tree, i moved my chair over there. presently a vireo with disordered breast feathers flew down on a dead twig close to the ground and leaned over with a tired anxious look, and craning her neck, turned her head on one side, and bent her eyes on the ground scrutinizingly. then she hopped down, picked up something, threw it away, picked up another piece and flew back to her perch with it, as if to make up her mind if she really wanted that. then her mate came, raised his crown and looked down at the bit of material with a puzzled air as if wishing he knew what to say; as if he felt he ought to be able to help her decide. but he seemed helpless and could only follow her around when she was at work, singing to her betimes, and keeping off friends or enemies who came too near. when the young hatched i noticed a still more marked difference between the nervous manners of the gnats, and the repose of vireos. while the gnat flipped about distractedly, the vireo sat calmly beside her nest, an exquisite white basket hanging under the leaves in the[57] sun, or walked carefully over the branches looking for food for the young. some days before finding out the facts, i suspected that the wood pewee perching on the old tree had more important business there, for the way he and his mate flew back and forth to the oak top was very pointed. so again i moved my chair. to my delight the wood pewee flew up in the tree, sat down on a horizontal crotch, and went through the motions of moulding.
there were two birds, however, that simply used the tree as a resting-place, as far as i ever knew. a hummingbird perched on the tip of a twig, looking from below like a good sized bumblebee as he preened his feathers and looked off upon the world below. at the other side of the oak a pretty pink dove perched on a sunny branch that arched against the blue sky. it sat close to the branch beside the green leaves and dressed its feathers or dozed quietly in the sun. we had other visitors that the house owners did not accept so willingly. the gnatcatchers up the sand ditch whose nest had been broken up by the thief-in-the-night did not object to brown chippies, but perhaps, if this were the same pair, they had been made suspicious by their trouble. in any case, when a brown chippie lit on a limb near the nest, quite accidentally i believe, and turned to look at the pretty structure, quite innocently i feel sure, the little gnats fell on him tooth and[58] nail, and when he hid under the leaves where they could not reach him they fluttered above the leaves, and the moment he ventured from under cover were both at him again so violently that at the first opportunity he took to his wings. there was one curious thing about this attack and expulsion; the gnats did not utter a word during the whole affair! i had never known them to be silent before when anything was going on—rarely when there wasn't.
another morning when i rode in there was a great commotion up in the oak. a chorus of small scolding voices, and a fluttering of little wings among the branches told that something was wrong, while a large form moving deliberately about in the tree showed the intruder to be a blue jay! aha! the gossips would wag their heads. i disapprove of gossip, but as a truthful reporter am obliged to say that i saw the blue jay pitch down into the brush with something white in his bill—perhaps a cocoon—and that thereupon a great weeping and wailing arose from the little folk up in the treetop. a big brown california chewink stood by and watched the—robbery(?), great big fellow that he was; and not once offered to take the little fellows' part. i felt indignant. why didn't he pitch into the big bully and drive him off before he had stolen the little birds' egg—if it was an egg. a grosbeak called ick' from the treetop, but[59] thought he'd better not meddle; and—it was a pair of wren-tits who looked out from a brush screen and then skulked off, chuckling to themselves, i dare say, that some one else was up to their tricks. it gave my faith in birds a great shock, this, together with the pillage of the gnat's nest by the thief-in-the-night. my spleen was especially turned against the brown chewink; he certainly was a good fighter, and might at least have helped to clear the neighborhood of such a suspicious character.
where did the egg—if it was an egg—come from? the vireos and pewees and gnats were still building, i reflected thankfully, though trembling for their future; and fortunately the hangbird had young. perhaps the jay had found a nest that i could not discover.
after that, things went on quietly for several days. the gnats got through with their building, and went off for a holiday until it should be time to begin brooding. they flitted about the branches warbling, as if having nothing special to do; dear little souls, at work as at play, always together. one of them unexpectedly found himself near me one day; but when he saw it was only i, whipped his tail and exclaimed "oh, it's you'. i'm' not afraid."
this peace and quietness, however, did not last. the gnats' house was evidently haunted, and they did not like—blue—ghosts. one morning when[60] i got to the oak it was all in a hubbub, and the vireo was scolding loudly at a blue jay. when the giant pitched into the brush the wren-tit chattered, and i thought perhaps the jay was teaching him how it feels to have a shoe pinch. a few moments later i was amazed to see a gnat jab at the wall till it got a bill full of material and then fly off to the brush with it! my little birds had moved! evidently the neighborhood was too exciting for them. more than ten days of hard work—no one can tell how hard until after watching a gnatcatcher build—had been spent in vain on this nest; and if, as suspected, this was their second, how much more work did that mean? it was a marvel that the birds could get courage to start in again, especially if they had had two homes broken up already.
from my position at the big oak i could see that the gnats were carrying the frame of the old house to a small oak in the brush. the wood pewee had moved too, and to my surprise and pleasure i found it had begun its nest on a branch under the gnats, so that both families could be watched at the same time. i nearly got brushed off the saddle promenading through the stiff chaparral to find a place where the nests could be seen from the ground; but when at last successful, i too, like the rest of the old oak's floating population, moved to pastures new. hanging my chair on the saddle, i made billy carry it[61] for me; then i buckled the reins around the trunk of the oak and withdrew into the brush to watch my birds. it was a cozy little nook, from which billy could be heard stamping his feet to shake off the flies. the little crack in the chaparral was a pleasant place to sit in, protected as it was from the wind, with the sun only coming in enough to touch up the brown leaves on the ground and warm the fragrant sage, bringing out its delicious spicy aromatic smell.
the pewee did not altogether relish having us established under its vine and fig-tree. when it saw billy under the tree it whistled, and the bit of grass it had brought for its nest went sailing down to the brush disregarded. it did not think us as bad as the blue jay, however, for it came back with a long stem of grass in its bill, and, lighting on a high branch, called pee-ree. to be sure, when it had gone to the nest and i was inconsiderate enough to turn a page in my note-book, it dashed off. but if murder will out, so will good intentions; and before long the timid bird was brooding its nest with billy and me for spectators.
the gnat's nest here was so much lower than the other one that it was much easier to watch. the first day the birds built rapidly. one of them got his spider's web from beside the pewee's nest, when the pewee was away. he started to go for it once after the owner had returned, caught[62] sight of him, stopped short, and much to my amusement concluded to sit down and preen his feathers! the pewee had one special bare twig of his own that he used for a perch, and when the gnat seated himself there in his neighbor's absence he looked so small that i realized what a mite of a bird he really was. he sometimes sat there and talked while his mate moulded the nest.
when the gnats got to brooding, many of the same pretty performances were repeated that had marked the first nest of all, up in the sand ditch. when the bird on the nest hopped out and called, "come, come," its mate, who had been wandering around in the sunny green treetop, called out in sweet tones, "good-by, good-by."
when waiting for the gnats to do something, i heard a little sound in the oak brush by my side, and, looking through the brown branches, saw a wren-tit come hopping toward me. it came up within three feet of me, near enough to see its bright yellow eyes. i began to wonder if it had a nest near by, and felt my prejudices melting away and my heart growing tender. some thieves are very honest fellows; it is largely a difference in ethical standards! i began to feel a keen interest in the bird and its affairs, for the wren-tit was really a most original bird, and one i was especially anxious to study.
my newly awakened interest was not chilled by any second tragedy; all went well with the little[63] blue-grays. the day the gnat's eggs hatched, the old folks performed most ludicrously. perhaps they were young parents, and this being their first brood, maternal and paternal love had not yet blinded their eyes to the ridiculous; so that they looked down on these skinny, squirming, big-eyeballed prodigies with mingled emotions. it looked very much as if they were surprised to find that their smooth pretty eggs had suddenly turned into these ugly, weak, hungry things they did not know what to do with. at first it seemed that something must be wrong at the nest; the little gnat shook her wings and tail beside it as if afraid of soiling herself; and when she hopped into it, jerked out again and flitted around distractedly. every time the birds looked into the nest they got so excited that, had they been girls, they surely would have hopped up and down wringing their hands. i laughed right out alone in the brush, they acted so absurdly.
they began feeding the nestlings in the most remarkable way i had ever witnessed. when the young mother was on the nest her mate came and brought her the food, whereupon, instead of jumping off the nest and feeding the young in the conventional way, she simply raised up on her feet and, apparently, poked the food backwards into the bills of the young under her breast! even when the gnats got to feeding[64] more in the ordinary way, they did it nervously. they fed as if expecting the young to bite them. they would fly up on the branch beside the nest, give a jab down at the youngsters, whip tails and flee. you would have thought the young parents had been playing house before, and their dolls had suddenly turned into live hungry nestlings.
i watched this family till the house was deserted, and i had to ride along a line of brush before finding them. the young were now pretty silvery-breasted creatures who sat up in a small oak while the old birds hunted through the brush for food for them. though i rode billy into the chaparral after them, and got near enough to see the black line over the bill of the father bird, they did not mind, but hunted away quite unconcernedly; for we had been through many things together, and were now old and fast friends.
