WHO SAID BIRDS?

Forest and Bird, Issue 18, 1 August 1929, Page 8

WHO SAID BIRDS?

(By A Naturalist's Wife.)

There are naturalists of many kinds wandering at large over the face of the earth, but there is one kind in particular—the bird variety. I know it best. lam the wife of one of it. My husband loves birds better than his wife, his children, his home, even . life itself, Ido believe. It must be terrible to have such an affliction. From what 1 can gather, judging from the visitors that bless us with their presence, and talk “birds” into the wee sma hours, while I sit quietly by and drink in their words of wisdom, it is an affliction that is spreading rapidly. It is incurable, like golf and fishing. I’ve heard of “golf widows,” and even “poker widows,” but I never heard of a “bird widow” until I became one myself. Now, mind you, I like birds, but I’m sure I’d never spend any of my valuable —or money—on them, nor lose any of my beauty sleep by getting up early to study them. Of course, I did get up at five a.m. one morning not so long ago, to visit a loon’s nest, but that was just to please my husband. We didn't want anyone to know where the nest was, so we sneaked away early. It was a wonderful morning, fresh and clear, and the sun just coming up as we ventured forth—the kind of a morning that makes you feel “glad” all over, like Pollyanna. I could almost sympathise with these naturalists for wanting to be out on such a morning. And it was a lovely sight to see that bird’s nest, too. I only wish that I had a pair of field glasses of my own, so that I could have had more of a chance to watch it, but glasses cost money, and there is enough money spent on this hobby in this house already. The life of a naturalist’s wife is a hard one, requiring patience, a well-concealed sense of humour, and tolerance. Patience— your dinner guests are kept waiting while the naturalist is far afield after some “ringtailed hunkadunkus”; the sense of humour when it strikes you as being funny, instead of making you put bichloride of mercury in the soup; and tolerance when he insists on putting the “hunkadunkus” specimen in your newly scoured refrigerator (spilling the salad dressing on the pudding in doing so —Heavens!), and you let him get away with it.

I’m glad I’m sensible, and . don’t ride a hobby to death. It fakes such a lot of time. Why, only to-day I had to leave my dishwashing and spend about half an hour watching a bird that was in our garden; I had never seen one like it before, but of course I don’t know much about birds vet. I was fortunate

in having the field glasses, as my husband was away at the time.. When he isn’t here, I hang them by the window just in case anything interesting should come into the garden. I’ve tried keeping them round my neck while I worked, but they got in my way. Once they got into the wash tub while I was washing, and that is not good for field glasses. I found that out. My husband told me so when he learned of it —most emphatically.

Such silly things as these naturalists do! A short time ago a wounded bird was brought to us. Poor little thing! Its wing was injured and it was a sad looking object. My husband put it in a cage to give the wing a chance to heal. Such nonsense. A wild bird needs more room than a cage. I covered all the furniture in one of the bedrooms with sheets,, put papers on the floor, and put the bird in there where it could convalesce in peace, without fear of the family cat. Not our cat, of course—l would not have a cat on the place. Cats kill birds. But someone else’s cat.

Well, I fed our invalid every day and it was a joy to see it gradually regain the use of its wing. I was almost sorry when it was well enough to be released; it was like a member of the family. We banded it before it left us, and I often wonder if we will ever hear of it again. You should have seen the room after our feathered guest left us. It was a mess, and took a day’s work to clean it up again.

This bird-bancling is another phase of the malady. I know that it is of great scientific value to learn when and where the birds go, but I do wish it could all be found out without upsetting my happy home. We have a banding trap, and I often operate it when my husband is busy. Handling the wild birds makes them become very real to you, and you do get to love them. They are such tiny little bundles of feathered humanity, and I always feel like a wicked giant when I feel their frightened little hearts beating against my fingers. My young son has watched this banding with much interest, and his latest achievement is a trap of his own design, built of a soap box, a croquet stake, and a long rope. The box is heavy enough to stun a bird, if any bird was crazy enough to go near the trap, but the rope is so short that the operator has to stand out in full view, so I think the birds are safe. The thought strikes me—wouldn’t it be terrible if my son should become a naturalist, too ! Heaven protect us! Cameras —that’s another symptom. You must have a camera, and a good one, too, so that you can photograph all these birds, and frequently you must risk life and limb in doing it. I know all about it, for sometimes lam allowed to go along

•on these photographic expeditions—just to help set up the tripod, and carry the extra plates, and do all those menial jobs that fall to the lot of the naturalist’s wife. It certainly is a joke all the paraphernalia they need. And the cameras are so •expensive, too. I bought one myself, recently, so that I could .get some really good pictures of all the birds that come to our feeding shelf each day, so I know a little about what they cost. To-day I took my camera, and only had to put a soap box on a chair, and climb from it on to the top of the back fence, to get a picture of a young bird that had just left its nest. I ■weigh more than I used to —worry over my husband’s hobbv doesn’t seem to reduce my weight any—but the fence was strong, and nothing happened to me. And I “got” the bird, ;too.

The feeding shelf is another thing that takes my time. I notice that while he built it, I am the one that keeps it supplied with food. It is no joke in the winter time to wade out in snow up to your neck to put suet in the bags for the woodpeckers, seed for the chickadees, and nuts for the nuthatches. I’m beginning to starve the family so that I can keep that bird cafeteria provided with food. We mustn’t let our visitors starve, you know.

Really, I wish I knew what to do about my husband’s hobby. It does take so much of his time. I wonder if he will get over it. I’m also wondering if I hadn’t better go out and buy a pair of field glasses for myself; I really do need them if I want to learn anything about these birds, and my ornithological husband can go out and use his own old glasses to his heart’s content. I’ll get a good pair when I get them, too Yes, sir, I will \—-Nature Magazine, 1214 Sixteenth Street. N.W., Washington.

And if you see birds coming around your fruit crop when it is getting ripe, do not make the mistake of driving them all away. Often they are after the cut-worms, and grubs that have been eating your supply. Even if they take a berry or two for dessert, the ultimate pay for their labour is certainly very small.

"How to keep insect pests in check is a question of the greatest importance to the whole community. It can be (lone at little or no cost by intelligently encouraging and protecting ■our birds.” “Without the birds the gardener and farmer would find it impossible to grow any crops at all.”—(lntelligence Department, South Australian Government.

“It may be safely said that no country- in the world suffers more from insect pests than, South ; Africa, and the cheapest •and most efficient agency to check their depredations is a sufficiency of bird life.” —(Professor Ernest Warren and R. Godfry, “South African Gardening..’) “Man himself has wantonly destroyed his beautiful and faithful allies, the birds. He is now paying the penalty in the alarming spread of germ diseases and in the diminution of his animal and vegetable food supply.”—(Sir H. H. Johnson, G.C.M.G., D.Sc.) With intensive development of the soil there, of necessity, arises a corresponding increase of noxious insect life. It is. therefore, obvious that Nature’s feathered checks to .insect eruptions must be increased proportionately. This cannot be done unless we go about the matter in a practical and systematic way. The dense tangled forests and scrub cannot be replaced, so the next best thing to do is to resort to the erection of nesting boxes. — (Professor F. W. Fitzsimons, Director Port Elizabeth Museum.)