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p>Birds and Nature, Vol. 10 No. 1 [June 1901]

      JUNE

      No price is set on the lavish summer;

      June may be had by the poorest comer.

      And what is so rare as a day in June?

      Then, if ever, come perfect days;

      Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,

      And over it softly her warm ear lays:

      Whether we look, or whether we listen,

      We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;

      Every clod feels a stir of might,

      An instinct within it that reaches and towers,

      And, groping blindly above it for light,

      Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;

      The flush of life may well be seen

      Thrilling back over hills and valleys;

      The cowslip startles in meadows green,

      The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,

      And there’s never a leaf nor a blade too mean

      To be some happy creature’s palace;

      The little bird sits at his door in the sun,

      Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,

      And lets his illumined being o’errun

      With the deluge of summer it receives;

      His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,

      And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;

      He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,

      In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?

– James Russell Lowell, “The Vision of Sir Launfal.”

      BULLOCK’S ORIOLE.

      (Icterus bullocki.)

      Bullock’s Oriole, a species as handsome and conspicuous as the Baltimore Oriole, replaces it in the western portions of the United States and is likewise widely distributed. Its breeding range within our borders corresponds to its distribution. It is only a summer resident with us, arriving usually from its winter haunts in Mexico during the last half of March and, moving slowly northward, reaches the more northern parts of its breeding range from a month to six weeks later. It appears to be much rarer in the immediate vicinity of the seacoast than in the Great Basin regions, where it is common nearly everywhere, especially if sufficient water is found to support a few stunted cottonwoods and willows. During my extensive wanderings through nearly all the states west of the Rocky Mountains and extending from the Mexican to the British borders, I have met with this species almost everywhere in the lowlands and in some localities have found it very abundant. Like the Baltimore Oriole, it avoids densely wooded regions and the higher mountains. It is especially abundant in the rolling prairie country traversed here and there by small streams having their sources in some of the many minor mountain ranges which are such prominent features of the landscape in portions of Idaho, Washington and Oregon. These streams are fringed with groves of cottonwood, mixed with birch, willow and alder bushes, which are the favorite resorts of this Oriole during the breeding season. The immediate vicinity of water is, however, not considered absolutely necessary, as I have found it nesting fully a mile or more away from it on hillsides, the edges of table-lands and in isolated trees, or even in bushes. In Colorado it is said to be found at altitudes of over eight thousand feet, but as a rule it prefers much lower elevations.

      The call notes of Bullock’s Oriole are very similar to those of the Baltimore, but its song is neither as pleasing to the ear nor as clear and melodious as that of the latter. Its food is similar and consists principally of insects and a few wild berries.

      The nest resembles that of the Baltimore Oriole, but as a rule it is not quite as pensile and many are more or less securely fastened by the sides as well as by the rim to some of the adjoining twigs. The general make-up is similar. As many of the sections where Bullock’s Oriole breeds are still rather sparsely settled, less twine and such other material as may be picked up about human habitations enter into its composition. Shreds of wild flax and other fiber-bearing plants and the inner bark of the juniper and willow are more extensively utilized; these with horsehair and the down of plants, wool and fine moss furnish the inner lining of the nests. According to my observations, the birch, alder, cottonwood, eucalyptus, willow, sycamore, oak, pine and juniper furnish the favorite nesting sites; and in Southern Arizona and Western Texas it builds frequently in bunches of mistletoe growing on cottonwood and mesquite trees.

      The nests are usually placed in low situation, from six to fifteen feet from the ground, but occasionally one is found fully fifty feet up. A very handsome nest, now before me, is placed among six twigs of mistletoe, several of these being incorporated in the sides of the nest, which is woven entirely of horsehair and white cotton thread, making a very pretty combination. The bottom of the nest is lined with wool.

      The sexes are extremely devoted to each other and valiantly defend their eggs and young. I once saw a pair vigorously attack a Richardson’s squirrel, which evidently was intent on mischief, and drive it out of the tree in which they had their nest. Both birds acted with the greatest courage and dashed at it repeatedly with fury, the squirrel beating a hasty retreat from the combined attack. The young are large enough to leave the nest in about two weeks and are diligently guarded and cared for by both parents until able to provide for themselves.

Charles Bendire.From “Life Histories of North American Birds.”

      AN AFTERNOON IN THE CORNFIELD

      Uncle Philip was 16 years old, tall and strong, with merry dark eyes, red cheeks and thick, soft, wavy, brown hair. Every day except Saturday he was in school. Sometimes on Saturdays he went in the woods botanizing or he rowed his pretty boat, “The Lorelei,” upon the lake. But, often he went to his sister’s, Mamma Bryant’s, to spend the day and work upon the farm. His little nephew, Leicester, was always glad when he came, for Uncle Philip took him with him to the field or barn, told him funny stories and taught him to take notice of all the things he saw or heard. One beautiful day in October, after the corn had been all cut and was standing in big yellow stooks, making long rows through the stubble, Uncle Philip arrived early in the morning at Leicester’s home. Leicester was still in bed when Uncle Philip came, and Mamma Bryant said to herself, “I must go and see if he is awake.” But just as she was about to open the door, out came Leicester in his white pajamas, rubbing his eyes and looking a little bit sleepy.

      “Come, Leicester,” said his mamma, “I will help you dress and then you can have your breakfast. Uncle Philip has been here and he has gone to the cornfield south of the meadow. He hitched up Blotter and Little Gray on the new wagon and will drive back to dinner. Come with me and get ready for breakfast. After breakfast I want you to take little sister Keren with you and hunt for the eggs. If you are a good, pleasant boy this morning you may go this afternoon with uncle, and I will make some cookies for you to take in your lunch basket.”

      Leicester, who was generally a very good boy, promised to do as his mother desired.

      Before dinner time Aunt Dorothy came, and it was decided that she, too, should go to the cornfield and take Keren with her.

      By one o’clock dinner was over. Mamma Bryant had decided that Leicester’s lunch basket was too small, so she had taken a peach basket, into which she put, among other good things to eat, some large red apples and ever so many fresh baked cookies.

      Uncle Philip had driven up the roadway and was standing in the new wagon waiting for his passengers. Corn huskers never take a seat on their wagons, but Uncle Philip had laid a board across the wagon-box and on that Aunt Dorothy seated herself.

      It was a warm, bright day and the wagon ride to the cornfield was delightful. Blotter and Little Gray were not a very handsome team, but they were good gentle horses and the children loved them. Blotter was a white horse with black spots on him, which made him look as if he had been used for a pen-wiper.

      On the way to the cornfield

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