Read Ebook: Current History: A Monthly Magazine of the New York Times May 1918 Vol. VIII Part I No. 2 by Various

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DECEMBER.

The lakes of ice gleam bluer than the lakes Of water 'neath the summer sunshine gleamed; Far fairer than when placidly it streamed, The brook its frozen architecture makes, And under bridges white its swift way takes. Snow comes and goes as messenger who dreamed Might linger on the road; or one who deemed His message hostile, gently, for their sakes Who listened, might reveal it by degrees. We gird against the cold of winter wind Our loins now with mighty bands of sleep, In longest, darkest nights take rest and ease, And every shortening day, as shadows creep O'er the brief noontide, fresh surprises find. --Helen Hunt Jackson

Best of all, old King December, Laughs beside the burning ember, With his children round his knees, And a look of jovial ease. He is crowned Lord of Misrule-- Here's his Queen, and there's his fool. He is wreathed with frosty green, And ever the gay song between "Wassail!" shouts he, "health to all!" And re-echoes the old hall.-- Kind December! --Walter Thornbury, "The Twelve Brothers."

THE WESTERN HORNED OWL.

Among the birds of prey none are better known, more written about or more cosmopolitan than that nocturnal division , which includes the two hundred or more species of Owls. From the Arctic regions of the north to the Antarctic regions of the south they are known. Most of the genera are represented in both hemispheres, though eight are peculiar to the Old World and three to the New. The majority of the species finds a home in the forests, though a few live in marshes and on the plains. Some invade the buildings of civilization and may be found in the unfrequented towers of churches and in outbuildings.

Disliked by all birds its appearance during the day is the signal for a storm of protests and, knowing that there is little need of fear of his power at this time, they flock about him, pecking and teasing him till he is obliged to retreat to his obscure roosting place.

Mr. Evans tells us that "the note varies from a loud hoot to a low, muffled sound or a clear, musical cry; the utterance of both young and adults being in some cases a cat-like mew, while the screech-owl snores when stationary. The hoot is said to be produced by closing the bill, puffing out the throat, and then liberating the air, a proceeding comparable to that of the Bitterns. On the whole the voice is mournful and monotonous, but occasionally it resembles a shrill laugh." The utterances of the Owls are, however, quite various. Some species will give a piercing scream and hiss like an angry cat when disturbed.

The Western Horned Owl of our illustration is a variety of the Great Horned Owl of eastern North America. It has a wide and extensive range reaching from Manitoba, on the north, into the table-lands of Mexico on the south and eastward from the Pacific coast across the Great Plains. Occasionally specimens are taken as far east as the states of Illinois and Wisconsin. It is replaced in the Arctic regions by the Arctic Horned Owl , which is lighter in color, its range only reaching as far south as Idaho and South Dakota. The Western Horned Owl breeds nearly throughout its range. It is of interest that this Owl is not an inhabitant of high altitudes but rather of the foothills and more open country of its range. The Dusky Horned Owl , the darkest colored of all the owls, taking its place in the higher regions.

In its habits it is closely related to its eastern relative. It has a similar call note and is as destructive. It feeds on grouse and ducks as well as other species of valuable food water-birds. It also kills many forest birds that are useful to man as insect destroyers. It is said that they will feed on mammals, such as pole cats, prairie dogs, squirrels, rabbits and other rodents. But this is not the worst crime of this marauder, for when it visits the more thickly inhabited districts it appreciates the delicacies to be found in the poultry yards of the farmer and kills far more than it needs to satisfy its appetite.

With regard to the nesting habits of this Owl, Captain Charles Bendire says: "While perhaps the majority of these birds resort to hollow trees or old nests of the larger hawks and of the common crow, quite a number nest in the wind-worn holes in sandstone and other cliffs, small caves in clay and chalk bluffs, in some localities on the ground, and, I believe, even occasionally in badger holes under ground. On the grassy plains in the Umatilla Indian Reservation, in northeastern Oregon, I have several times seen Owls of this race sitting on the little mounds in front of badger or coyote burrows, near the mouths of which small bones and pellets of fur were scattered about. While unable to assert positively that they do actually breed occasionally in such holes, the indications point that way, and this would not seem to be due to the absence of suitable timber, as an abundance of trees grow along the banks of the Umatilla river not more than a mile away. When nesting in trees, large cottonwoods, sycamores, willows, pecans, pines, oaks and firs are generally preferred. In regions, however, where heavy timber is scarce, they content themselves with nests in small mesquite and hackberry trees, frequently placed not more than ten feet from the ground." Captain Bendire also states that they have been known to use the nests of the black-billed magpie, either laying their eggs on the inside of these curiously built and enormous structures or on the broken-down roofs. These nests are well adapted to the requirements of the Owl, for they vary from one to three feet in diameter and are constructed in a very substantial manner. The foundations consist of twigs held together with mud, and upon this, built of smaller twigs, is the nest, which is plastered with mud and lined with grass and small roots. The whole structure is surrounded by dead twigs, which form an arch over the top of the nest. This is a palace which the Owl would never take the trouble to construct, but is willing to use.

It is said that the Western Horned Owl will lay two or more sets of eggs at short intervals if the nest and eggs are disturbed, and an instance has been recorded where three sets of eggs have been taken from the nest of a single pair at intervals of about four weeks. The number of eggs laid is usually two or three, and infrequently four are found and sets of five and six have been reported. The eggs are white, showing, as a rule, but little gloss and are roughish. In form they are rounded oval, about two and one-half inches long, and nearly two inches in diameter. The period of incubation lasts about four weeks, and it is said that only the female sets on the eggs, the male furnishing her with food.

Like the Great Horned Owl this variety is quite solitary in its habits, except during the breeding season, and is almost as destructive as that bird which is considered the most destructive of all the Owls.

The Owl has long been an inspiration to the poets, due to its odd appearance and uncanny actions during the daylight hours, the wise expression of its face, and its quiet flight during the weird hours of the night.

"The lark is but a bumpkin fowl; He sleeps in his nest till morn; But my blessing upon the jolly owl That all night blows his horn."

THE OWL.

When cats run home and light is come, And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, And the whirring sail goes round; Alone and warming his five wits, The white owl in the belfry sits.

When merry milkmaids click the latch, And rarely smells the new-mown hay, And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch Twice or thrice his roundelay, Twice or thrice his roundelay; Alone and warming his five wits, The white owl in the belfry sits. --Alfred Tennyson.

THE LONG-CRESTED JAY.

The family of birds to which the long-crested jay belongs includes not only the jays but also the crows, the ravens, the magpies and the rooks. It is a cosmopolitan family with the exception that no representatives are found in New Zealand. It includes over two hundred species of which about twenty-five are inhabitants of North America. Strictly speaking, none of the species are migratory, excepting those whose range carries them to regions of severe winters. Some of the species are well protected by soft and thick coats of down and feathers, and as they are generous in their selection of food, eating varieties that may be procured at any season, they do not need to move from place to place but may remain resident throughout the year.

The jays differ from the crows in their method of progression on the ground, hopping instead of walking. They are distinctly arboreal in their habits, and usually have a bright-colored plumage, blue being the most common. Their heads are often crested. Though found nearly throughout the world their highest development seems to have been reached by those species that are resident in the warmer portions of America.

The jays are noisy and quarrelsome, fretting apparently for the most insignificant reasons. They are great mimics and exhibit a high degree of intelligence. The jay possesses a variety of notes and calls, and is a notable borrower of those of some other species of birds. This versatility has given rise to the very appropriate name of the sub-family in which they are included, the Garrulinae, from the Latin word garrio, meaning to prattle.

Our illustration shows the color and markings of the long-crested jay. Its home is in the wooded regions of the southern Rocky Mountains, southern Arizona and the northwestern portion of Mexico. It breeds throughout this range.

Dr. Coues has said regarding this bird that it is "a stranger to modesty and forbearance, and the many qualities that charm us in some little birds and endear them to us; he is a regular fillibuster, ready for any sort of adventure that promises sport or spoil, even if spiced with danger." In spite of these characteristics they are very quiet during the nesting season and the female is very devoted to her nest and will almost allow herself to be touched before flying from her eggs. Their nests are bulky and usually placed in out-of-the-way places, in low, bushy, cone-bearing trees. They seemingly will eat anything of a nutritious nature. Flying insects, larvae, beetles, flies, spiders, eggs, and even small birds, seem to be palatable to their tastes. Yet they are principally vegetarians feeding upon seeds, hard fruits and berries when these are obtainable.

The Steller's jay , of which the long-crested form is a geographical variety, is a resident of the Northwestern portion of North America ranging from northern California to southern Alaska and eastward to the Cascade Mountains.

THE SUNRISE SERENADE.

"Ah walk out when de eas' am red Among de timbehs tall; Ah heah a mockeh oberhead, De sweetest froat ob all. 'Why do yo' sing?' Ah stop en ask, En den Ah heah her say; 'Dis am mah daily sunup task, A sahanade to Day.'

"Songs ob sunrise joy when de darkness fades away, De mockeh in de treetop sing a welcum song to Day.

"Ah brush among de meddeh lan's Wheh yelleh-jackets hum; Ah look up wheh det dogwood spans, En heah det solemn drum. Oh. Misteh Gol' Wing, why yo' drum Up yandah in de tree? 'Ah drum jes' kase de day hab cum,' Is how he answeh me.

"Drum! drum! drum! Yo' see his movin' haid, De peckeh drum a welcum when de eas' am fiah red.

"Ah thrash among de bramble vines, A-brushin' off de dew; A jaybird callin' fum de pines, A catbird chimes in, too, 'What's all dis racket fum yo' two?' En den Ah heah dem say: 'We's callin' kase de sun am new, En de night hab gone away.'

"De jaybird en de catbird, dey call en welcum day, Dey's happy when de sun cum up en bathe with sumac spray.

"En all aroun' de timbeh lan' Deh watch foh cummin' day; En Night she shake Mis' Mawnin's han,' En den she fade away. Den ebehy songsteh break de hush, De hummin' bird he hum; Mis' Quail she wistle in de brush, De gol' wing peckeh drum.

"En all bus' out in melody det echo fro' de haze, When de sun he smile in crimson en de dewdrops tuhn a-blaze." --Victor A. Hermann, in The Chicago Daily News.

A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES.

Once there had been six little brothers and sisters, six little fluffy, plush-covered creatures with tiny silken ears of which Madam Field Mouse had been so proud it had been only a delight to take long trips over the farm for dainty tidbits, if only for the pleasure of seeing their bright black eyes sparkle as they speedily devoured them.

Once there had been six but now there were only three. Yesterday morning there had been four, and the morning before, five. Each night found one less to snuggle down in the fluffy bed of corn stalks, which Madam, their mother, had carefully shredded lest there be found something which should hurt their tender little limbs.

She looked about searchingly. Perhaps they had not all yet arisen, and she poked the nest over carefully; but her search was unrewarded and she looked sadly at Fluffy and Flossy and Flutter as she prepared to depart on her daily journey, wondering which one she should never see again. Finally she turned to Mr. Field Mouse, who was daintily combing his long whiskers with his hind foot. Mr. Field Mouse was very particular as to his appearance, and never ventured abroad unless his toilet had been properly made.

"I think, my dear, we must find a new dwelling place," she said. "This corn shock, although snug and having the advantage of containing an abundance of homely food, is yet in danger of being disturbed. I saw yesterday there were boys at the other side of the field, tearing down the shocks and pulling off the ears of corn, and I greatly fear they will continue until our home will be destroyed and our darling children eaten by the cruel dog that sits by them, watching intently. I am sure he can be looking for nothing but baby mice," and she looked tenderly at Fluffy, who was listening interestedly.

But Mr. Field Mouse only continued to comb, as if her remarks were not worthy of consideration.

She looked indignantly at him for a moment, and continued in a louder, more emphatic tone of voice: "Have you noticed, Mr. Field Mouse, that only three of our precious darlings are here? Perhaps you can tell me where Fatty has gone; he was here yesterday morning. You will remember I left them in your charge while I went to fetch some buckwheat from the bin."

He looked inquiringly about. "I have not missed any of them, my dear. You know I am not very good at arithmetic. I only left them for a few moments, a very few, while I went to fetch a bit of that sugar-cane stacked up by the fence. The juice is excellent and I felt faint," he said, apologetically. "If you are not going out this morning I think I should relish a little more." He smacked his lips appreciatively.

"You are a gourmand, Mr. Field Mouse," she said, severely, turning away in disgust as he scampered off over the stubble.

"It is fortunate that I am able to take care of myself and our children, too," she mused, digging her way to the ground and beginning to throw out the dirt with her tiny paws.

Soon a neat underground channel was dug which led out into the open air, and then Mrs. Field Mouse rested from her labors and hungrily nibbled a bit of corn.

"We can escape if worst comes to worst, darlings," she said, reassuringly.

When Mr. Field Mouse returned he looked discontentedly over the supper table where his family were contentedly nibbling at an ear of nice yellow corn. "Nothing but corn for supper," he grumbled.

Mrs. Field Mouse resolutely kept her temper and went on placidly eating. "Well, have you decided to move?" she asked, pleasantly. "I have discovered a barrel of broomcorn seed setting up in the granary that will make a snug home for the winter. No one will be likely to disturb us, and on the whole I think it will be a desirable change," she said.

"It is too far away from the pile of sugar cane to suit me, I fear," he said, curling up in the softest part of the nest, and covering his nose with his paws was soon snoring heavily.

"I think this is the shock, Sam. I am sure I heard a mouse squeal when I went by this morning. Now, Fido!"

There was a great rattling of stalks, a sharp bark, a rush and Fido licked his chops and nosed about the place where Mr. Field Mouse had been contentedly snoozing but a few moments before, but he did not find any more dainty tidbits, for Mrs. Field Mouse and her children were safely skurrying away over the stubble in the direction of the granary.

Mary Morrison.

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