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On Good Friday, 1897, I found a Blackbird's nest, containing three young ones, situated in a very thin open hedgerow running parallel with the outer wall of an old wooden cart-shed some four feet away. I marked a place directly opposite and on a level with it, and going inside the structure, cut a circular hole with my pocket-knife in one of the boards for the admission of the lens of my brother's camera, and a smaller one a few inches above it for purposes of observation.
When we had got everything ready to take a photograph, we had not long to wait before the female turned up with her bill full of medium-sized worms. She alighted on a branch about a yard away from the nest, and after listening intently for a few seconds with her head cocked on one side, hopped up. She had no sooner arrived on the edge of her nest than each downy little head popped up with the suddenness of a jack in the box, and each richly coloured mouth opened to its uttermost extent to receive an equal share of the food the parent bird had brought.
Directly this was consumed they all subsided, and the old bird attended to the sanitary arrangements of her household, and then flew away in search of more food.
Presently the cock came along with a large worm which he had carefully chopped into several pieces ready for impartial distribution amongst his promising offspring. He, too, seemed to regard cleanliness with a scrupulous eye, and after doing his share of the necessary work, he retired to a neighbouring elm tree and piped a few mellow notes.
When the hen returned again a heavy shower of rain was falling, and after she had distributed her harvest of worms she hopped into the nest, and hustling about a while with gentle care for the chicks beneath her, settled down with her wings spread over the sides of her nest to allow the rain drops to run off, and the happiest look of security and contentment about her I ever saw in any bird in my life. Her head, back, wings, and tail were covered with great crystal beads of water, which rolled down and away like quicksilver in obedience to the laws of gravitation directly they received the weight of an additional drop of rain. We managed, in spite of a very poor light, to make a photograph of her in this condition, as shown in the bottom left-hand corner of the illustration.
When the shower was over the cock came along with a fresh supply of food, and the hen immediately hopped off and stood on the edge of the nest and watched him feed the young ones. It was a sweetly pretty picture, and my brother has regretted ever since the unfortunate circumstance that he was changing his slides at the moment. He waited nearly the whole of Easter Sunday and Monday for a similar scene, but it never presented itself. The hen fed the young birds twice for the cock once. Indeed, the latter often came to gaze in admiration at his chicks, and showed every signs of the fond pride of an affectionate father.
Blackbirds at home
I believe I am in a position to boast what very few ornithologists can. I have helped birds to build their nests, hatch their eggs, and feed their young. When a boy I used to collect feathers and amuse myself by dropping them from the top of a bridge and watching the Swallows and Martins catch and carry them away for use in lining their nests. I have kept birds' eggs warm in my hands during the enforced absence of the sitting hen, and have placed suitable food beside birds' nests and watched them pick it up and give it to their young ones.
Even where a great amount of hard work is entailed in feeding a hungry brood of young ones, some female birds do not receive any assistance from the males. At the end of last May I found a Chiffchaff's nest, containing five young ones, at the foot of a tiny thorn bush growing in an old copse near my home. I kept it under close observation a whole day, and made quite sure that the male bird did not render the slightest assistance, although the female worked almost incessantly from morning till night. I was able to identify her with certainty from the fact that one of her under tail coverts had by some accident become bent upwards, and projected between the quills on the upper side of her tail. I timed her upon my watch on several occasions, both during the forenoon and afternoon, and found that upon an average she brought caterpillars and flies four times in five minutes, and on the occasion of each visit spent from ten to fifteen seconds in attending to the sanitary arrangements of her little establishment.
Chiffchaff feeding her young
Most birds are very particular about this part of their duties, and I have known a Robin refuse to fetch grubs to her young ones until she had been allowed an opportunity of cleansing the edge of her nest. Contrary to popular notions, this is a perfectly cleanly operation, as each piece of excrement voided by a young bird is enveloped in a thin gelatinous sack, sufficiently consistent to allow the parent bird to remove the whole without the slightest fear of contamination.
Nightingale on nest
Whitethroat on nest
Whilst the female Chiffchaff was hard at work, the male kept on wearisomely reiterating his note first from one branch and then from another overhead. I caught several small, light green caterpillars and troublesome flies, and placing them on the edge of the nest, knelt down, and waited within five feet of it. By remaining perfectly still until she had flown backwards and forwards past me several times, I established myself in her confidence, and she went to her nest and fed her young ones. As soon as she had disposed of the supply of food which she had brought herself, she picked up mine and distributed it as far as it would go amongst her more than half-grown sons and daughters. I repeated the assistance again and again, and it appeared on each occasion to be appreciated. Once only during the afternoon did the industrious little creature take a rest for about half an hour. My brother made a study of her in front of her nest, but owing to the peculiar conformation of the ground and the extreme quickness of the bird's movements, the result does not show everything as plainly as we could have desired.
Close by we discovered a Marsh Tit's nest, containing a huddling crowd of almost fully-feathered fledgelings, situated in a hole in the trunk of a tree, and not more than four feet from the ground. The male and female were both hard at work feeding their young ones. They always went away for food together and returned in each other's company with a harvest of small, light green caterpillars. If they became separated for a moment, they called to one another in notes which could be heard at a surprising distance. When near the nest and waiting to enter it, they let their wings droop low by their sides, and shook them in the tremulous manner so common to young birds of many species when being fed after they have left the nest. I have noticed the same habit in other members of the Tit family.
Young carrion crows in nest
Although within a comparatively short distance of London, I found the following birds' nests all within fifty yards of each other, and containing eggs or young in this little copse: Carrion Crow, Red-backed Shrike, Nightingale, Whitethroat, Blackbird, Marsh Tit, Tree Sparrow, Common Wren, and Chiffchaff.
Young spotted flycatchers
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