Birds Illustrated by Color Photography Move Finished

Snowy Egret in Breeding Plumage at Gatorland by Dan

Both Volume I and Volume II are completely moved to the Birds of the Bible for Kids blog. As best I could, all the links to photos, information and articles should be working properly. I am encouraging you to stop by and check out this latest volume.

Here is the rest of the latest blog over there:

I trust you will enjoy reading the articles. If you are not familiar with the Birds Illustrated by Color Photography, at the beginning of the index, they mention that the articles are written for the younger reader. Then, more information is given about the bird on a normal reading level. After that, I updated with current photos and information. Even though the original articles were produced in a magazine in 1897, they are worth repeating here.

Birds Illustrated by Color Photography Vol #1 – Complete covered the first Volume. Here is a list of the articles for Volume II. Please enjoy discovering interesting avian wonders from their Creator.

Volume 2, Number 1, July 1897

Wood Duck by Dan at Lake Hollingsworth

Wood Duck by Dan at Lake Hollingsworth [Real-not a painting]

Bird Song – July
The Bald-Headed Eagle
The Semi-Palmated Ring Plover
The Mallard Duck
The American Avocet
The Canvas-Back Duck
The Wood Duck
The Anhinga Or Snake Bird
The American Woodcock
The American Scoter
Old Abe
The Snowy Heron

Volume 2, Number 2, August 1897

Evening Grosbeak (Hesperiphona vespertina) male by Raymond Barlow

Evening Grosbeak (Hesperiphona vespertina) male by Raymond Barlow

Bird Song
The American Osprey
The Sora Rail
The Kentucky Warbler
The Red Breasted Merganser
The Yellow Legs
The Skylark
Wilson’s Phalarope
The Evening Grosbeak
The Turkey Vulture
To A Water-Fowl
Gambel’s Partridge

Volume 2, Number 3, September 1897

Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula) by BirdingPix

Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula) by BirdingPix

Bird Song – September
The Yellow Warbler
The Hermit Thrush
The Song Sparrow
The Cuckoo
The Ruby-Throated Humming Bird
The House Wren
The Phoebe
The Ruby-Crowned Kinglet
The Mourning Dove
How The Birds Secured Their Rights
The Captive’s Escape
The White-Breasted Nuthatch

Volume 2, Number 4, October 1897

Warbling Vireo (Vireo gilvus swainsoni) by Ian

Warbling Vireo (Vireo gilvus swainsoni) by Ian

The Blackburnian Warbler
The Lost Mate
The American Goldfinch
The Chimney Swift
Shore Lark
The Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker
The Warbling Vireo
The Wood Pewee
The Snowflake
The Slate-Colored Junco
The Kingbird

Volume 2, Number 5, November 1897

Lazuli Bunting (Passerina amoena) by Daves BirdingPix

Lazuli Bunting (Passerina amoena) by Daves BirdingPix

John James Audubon
The Summer Tanager
The American White-Fronted Goose
The Turnstone
The Belted Piping Plover
The Wild Turkey
The Cerulean Warbler
The Yellow-Billed Tropic Bird
The European Kingfisher
The Vermilion Fly-Catcher     Version II
The Lazuli Bunting
Bird Miscellany Plus

Volume 2, Number 6, December 1897

American Flamingo Beak at Gatorland by Lee

American Flamingo Beak at Gatorland by Lee

The Ornithological Congress
The Mountain Bluebird
The English Sparrow
Allen’s Humming Bird
The Green-Winged Teal
The Black Grouse
The American Flamingo
The Verdin
The Bronzed Grackle
The Ring-Necked Pheasant
More Bird Miscellany
The Yellow-Breasted Chat

Birds Vol 2 #6 – The Volume II. July to December 1897 – Index

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Wordless Birds

The Autobiography of a Duck

Pecking duckling ©WikiC

Pecking duckling ©WikiC

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A DUCK.
FOUNDED UPON FACT.

“How queer, my child! what a long, broad mouth you have, and what peculiar feet!”

It was my mother, a big brown hen, who spoke. I had stepped from my egg, only a short while before, and as I was the only one hatched out of the whole thirteen, my poor mother was greatly disappointed.

Now, to add to her troubles, there seemed to be something very peculiar about my appearance.

“Yes,” she went on still watching me critically, “I have raised many families, but never a chick like you. Well! well! don’t cry about it. Your yellow dress is very pretty. It doesn’t pay to be too sensitive, as you will find, I am afraid, when you have lived with these chickens. Some of them are dreadfully trying. Dear! dear! how stiff I am! This setting is tiresome work.”

“I wonder what sort of home we are going to have.”

Our home, into which we moved a few hours later, proved to be an upturned soap box. Seven little chickens were there before us.

“The same old story,” said my mother with a knowing air. “People imagine we hens have no sense. I did not hatch those chickens, but I am expected to care for them, as though I did. Some mothers would peck them so they would be glad to stay away.”

She had too good a heart for this, however, and I was very glad to have these brothers and sisters.

Chick ©PD

Chick ©PD

They were different from me, though, in many ways, principally, in their dislike for water. They hated even to get their feet wet, while I dearly loved to get in the pond, and swim around on its surface, or even dive down to the bottom, where such nice fat worms lived.

My poor mother never could understand my tastes. The first time she saw me on the water, she came rushing towards me, screaming and beating her wings.

“Oh, my child! my child!” she cried, with tears in her eyes. “You will drown! You will drown!”

I loved her, and so could not bear to see her distress. It was hard to be different from all the others.

I had a little yellow sister who was a great comfort to me at these times. I could never persuade her to try the water,—but she always sat upon the edge of the pond while I had my swim. We shared everything with each other; even our troubles.

About this time, my voice began to change. It had been a soft little “peep,” but now it grew so harsh, that some of the old hens made unpleasant remarks about it, and my mother was worried.

“It isn’t talking. It’s quacking,” said an old, brown-headed hen who was always complaining of her nerves.

She was very cross and spent most of her time standing on one leg in a corner and pecking any poor chicken that came in her reach.

“Don’t you know why it’s quacking?” asked a stately Buff Cochin who was a stranger in the yard; having arrived only that morning. “That child isn’t a chicken. She’s a duck.”

“What you giving us?” said a dandified Cock, who was busy pluming his feathers. “Whoever heard of a duck?”

“Not you, I daresay,” answered the Buff with a contemptuous sniff. “It’s easy to see you have never been away from this yard. I have traveled, I would have you understand, and I know a duck, too.”

“Well, I don’t care what you call her,” snapped the cross one. “I only hope she’ll keep her voice out of my hearing. The sound of it gives me nervous prostration.”

Greater White-fronted Goose (Anser albifrons) chick ©USFWS

Greater White-fronted Goose (Anser albifrons) chick ©USFWS

As for poor me,—I stole quietly away, and went up into a corner of the chicken house to cry. I was a duck, alas! and different from all about me. No wonder I was lonely.

My mother asked the cause of my trouble, and when I told her she looked sad and puzzled. “I don’t know what a duck is,” she sighed, “things have been strangely mixed. But cheer up. Whatever comes you are still my child.”

That was indeed a comfort to me. For never had chicken or duck a better mother.

There was consolation also, in what the kind old Buff Cochin told me.

I had nothing to be ashamed of, she said, for ducks were much esteemed by those who knew them.

From her this had more weight, for we all regarded the Buff Cochin as very superior. They were well born, and well bred, and had seen life in many places. Their husband, too, was a thorough gentleman.

However, he also was having his troubles now. He was losing his old feathers, and his new ones were long in coming. Consequently, his appearance was shabby, and he staid away from the hens.

Duck Drawing ©PD

Duck Drawing ©PD

Poor fellow, he looked quite forlorn, leaning up against a sunny corner of the barn, trying to keep warm. I believe he felt the loss of his tail feathers most for the young roosters who strutted by in their fine new coats, made sneering remarks about it.

I was very sorry for him, but my own troubles were getting to be as much as I could bear; for just when I needed a sympathetic mother she was taken from me and her place filled by a big, bare-headed hen as high tempered as she was homely.

“Raising a duck,” she said with a contemptuous sniff at me. “I never supposed I’d come to that. Well, I’ll keep you, but understand one thing, don’t go quacking around me, and don’t bring your wet and mud into the house. I’m not your other mother. My children don’t rule me. I won’t have that Mrs. Redbreast saying my house is dirty. There’s no standing that hen anyhow. I’ll give her my opinion if she puts on her airs around me. There’s too much mixture here. One can’t tell where breed begins or ends.”

It was not many days later, before my mother and Mrs. Redbreast came to words and then blows. The cause was only a worm, but it was enough. Mrs. Redbreast insisted that it was hers. My mother thought otherwise, and with a screech of defiance rushed upon her enemy. Dust and feathers flew. We children withdrew to a safe distance, and with necks stretched watched in fear and trembling.

The fight, though fierce, was short. Our mother was victorious, but she had lost the tail feathers of which she had been so proud, and I am sure she never forgave Mrs. Redbreast.

Chicks and Ducklings ©PD

Chicks and Ducklings ©PD

Like children, chickens and ducks grow older and bigger with the passing days.

In time we were taken from our mothers and put to roost with the older hens and cocks. I was not made to roost so I spent my nights alone in a corner of the chicken house.

It was quieter down there—for up above the chickens all fought for best place, and their cackling and fluttering was disturbing.

The old gentleman was very heavy. Not only was it hard for him to fly up to the roost, but equally hard for him to hold on when once there. Yet I could never persuade him to rest on the floor with me. Like his kind, he preferred the discomfort of sleeping on a pole—a taste I cannot understand.

Three Ducklings ©WikiC

Three Ducklings ©WikiC

I was four months old before I saw one of my own kind. Then, one day three ducks were brought into the yard. They did not seem to mind being stared at, but fell to eating corn and talking among themselves.

“Horribly greedy,” said Mrs. Redbreast. “I for one don’t care to associate with them.”

“Now you know what you look like, old quacker,” snapped the cross hen, with a peck at me. “My poor nerves will suffer sadly now.”

These unkind remarks scarcely disturbed me, however. There was a new feeling stirring in my heart. I am afraid you will have to be a duck, and live a long time without other ducks, to understand it. Here were companions, whose natures and tastes were like mine, and I was content.

Louise Jamison.


Lee’s Addition:

A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. (Proverbs 18:24 KJV)

Trust you enjoyed this delightful bird tale about a duck. This was written by Louise Jamison in the Birds and Nature Vol. X, No. 3, Octorber 1901.

Near the end, when our duckling met up with some of her own and made this remark: “Here were companions, whose natures and tastes were like mine, and I was content.” I couldn’t but think of how we as Christian feel a certain bond when we are around like believers.

God is faithful, by whom ye were called unto the fellowship of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord. (1 Corinthians 1:9 KJV)

that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. (1 John 1:3 ESV)

This is from Gutenberg’s ebooks.

Kid’s Section

Bird Tales

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In The Hollow Of His Hand

Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum) by Rat Kirkfield

Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum) by Rat Kirkfield

Are not two little sparrows sold for a penny? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father’s leave (consent) and notice. But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, then; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:29-31 AMP)

IN THE HOLLOW OF HIS HAND.
(From an Ornithologist’s Year Book.)

So tiny that a child’s small palm can cover its whole body, inaudible at a few paces’ distance, invisible till it rises at your very feet, such is our yellow-winged sparrow. Yet he is a marvel; his plumage shows an exquisite mimicry of the earth tints, “the upper parts mixed black, rufous-brown, ashy and cream-buff,” with a touch of “yellowish olive-green” for the herbage, and here and there an orange or yellow shade, and a dusky whiteness beneath, to give the effect of light. What could be more perfect? No wonder the wee householders, with a nest of fine-woven grasses, low upon the ground, sits unseen on her “clutch” of wee speckled eggs within reach of your fingers. She knows this well, and will not rise until you are almost upon her retreat. Nor will she fly far. A fence post, a low shrub will serve as her watchtower until danger is over.

Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum) ©WikiC

Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum) ©WikiC

Our yellow-tinted sparrow has another name, the “Grasshopper Sparrow,” from its insect-like tremolo and chirp. Its song is a chord or two and a long trill on the insect letter, z. It is sung, to the eye, with a hearty abandon of joy, the head thrown back and mouth open, in a fine pose of ecstasy; yet, unless all around is still, and you listen with attention, not a sound will you hear, so small and fine are the vibrating tones. It is said, in a story of the Highlands, that on certain nights, if a man will but lay a couchant ear close to the breast of the earth, he may hear the fine, fine piping of the fairy tunes played in the underworld. Our bird’s song is one of these faint, sweet voices of the earth, like the music that breathes from every clod or leaf when the old world lies dreaming and dozing in a bit of holiday after work is done on a warm, sunny afternoon in autumn, a musical, tremulous, sweet piping everywhere.

Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum) ©WikiC

Grasshopper Sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum) ©WikiC

Yet not one of these small creatures is forgotten before its Father. When the frost is in the air, and winter is near, the Divine impulse stirs in its breast, and its little wings will bear it far, far away in the long, mysterious journey over sea to the warm islands of the Atlantic. There it will sing for joy with its fellows in the sun, but when April returns, look well. Is there not a stir in the short grass? And listen. The faint, dream-like thrill throbs again in the throat of the sparrow, and our ground-dweller has returned. It is a parable of God’s care for His little ones.

Ella F. Mosby.

“Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Luke 12:6-7 NKJV)

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This is from Gutenberg’s eBooks.

BIRDS AND NATURE. Vol. X  NOVEMBER, 1901. No. 4

I just found another wealth of great birds tales and information to write about. These are all in the Public Domain.

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Project Gutenberg eBooks

Grasshopper Sparrow – Wikipedia

Grasshopper Sparrow – All About Birds

Wordless Birds

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Mr. Plain Sparrow Calls on Ducks

House Sparrow (Passer domesticus)

House Sparrow (Passer domesticus)

MR. PLAIN SPARROW CALLS ON DUCKS

"Would you like to join us?"

“Would you like to join us?”

“It was such a hot day yesterday,” said daddy, “that Mr. Plain Sparrow simply could not get cool. You see he never goes away in the winter and so he gets used to really cold weather. On a day as hot as it was yesterday he simply doesn’t know what to do with himself. He called himself Mr. Plain Sparrow because that was exactly what he was. He was just a plain, ordinary sparrow, and he thought it such a wise thing to call himself that—and not put on any silly frills. He prided himself on being sensible.

“‘If there’s anything in this world I hate,’ he said, ‘it’s pretending to be what a creature is not.’ And so he called himself by the name of Mr. Plain Sparrow, and his wife was Mrs. Plain Sparrow, and his children were the Plain Sparrow Children.

“‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I will take a walk or a fly to the duck pond in the park nearby. Yes, it seems to me that’s an excellent scheme. I would like to see those ducks, for they’re right smart creatures, and I like to hear their funny quack-quack talk.’

“‘What are you up to, ducks?’ he called, as he flew over the pond, and then perched on a small bush that was at one side.

“‘We’re well,’ said the ducks. ‘We’re enjoying a cooling drink between swims. Would you like to join us? It’s just tea time.’

“‘Tea time, eh?’ said Mr. Plain Sparrow. ‘And would you give a fellow a good, fat worm in place of bread and butter and cake?’

“‘Quack-quack! ha, ha!’ laughed the ducks. ‘We don’t like bread and butter and cake. But we can’t get the worm for you just now, as we’re not very good at digging on such a hot day!’

“‘Well, then, how about my digging for a couple of them, and then joining all you nice ducks when you’re ready to have your tea?’

“‘Splendid idea,’ quacked the ducks. And off went Mr. Plain Sparrow to a soft place in the earth where he thought there would be some good worms.

“Pretty soon he came back with some fine ones, and he sat on his perch and ate them, while the ducks nibbled at their food, and had drinks of pond water, which they called tea. Mr. Plain Sparrow flew down and took sips of water by the side of the pond, and in one very shallow place he had some nice showerbaths while the ducks were having swims. And before he left he told the ducks what a good time he had had, and how nice and cool he felt.

“‘Well, you’re so friendly we’re glad you came,’ quacked the ducks once again.”


House Sparrow by Nikhil Devasar

Lee’s Addition:

A man who has friends must himself be friendly, But there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. (Proverbs 18:24 NKJV)

Here is another Bird Tale to remind us to be friendly. Even though Mr. Plain Sparrow was having a rough day, he still showed himself friendly to others around him. When things don’t go the way we want, do we become unfriendly to those around us? What should we do?

Who is the friend who sticks closer than a brother? See ABC’s of the Gospel

 

From

Daddy’s Bedtime Bird Stories – Gutenberg ebooks

By

Mary Graham Bonner

With four illustrations in color by
Florence Choate and Elizabeth Curtis

Daddys Bedtime Story Images

 

These stories first appeared in the American Press Association Service and the Western Newspaper Union.


Many of the sketches in this volume are the work of Rebecca McCann, creator of the “Cheerful Cherub,” etc.

Daddy's Bedtime Bird Stories by Mary Graham Bonner - 1917

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Daddy’s Bedtime Bird Stories by Mary Graham Bonner – 1917

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Links:

Painted Bunting (Passerina ciris) ©©Flickr

 

 

  Bird Tales

 

 

 

 

 

  Daddy’s Bedtime Bird Stories

 

 

 

 

Spanish Sparrow (Passer Hispaniolensis) female ©WikiC

 

  Wordless Birds

 

 

 

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The Winter Wrens’ Dew-drop Baths

Winter Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes) by Ian

Winter Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes) by Ian

THE WINTER WRENS’ DEW-DROP BATHS

“The winter wren is really with us during the summer too,” said daddy. “But he is too shy to be near us. We can only hear him sing sometimes. When winter comes, though, he goes to people for protection and picks up the crumbs they give him.

“Yesterday he was sitting on a snow-berry bush with a tiny companion. The snow-berry bushes are full and leafy, and in the spring and summer are covered with very tiny pink blossoms. In the autumn and winter they are covered with little berries which look as if they had been made out of snow.

“‘Oh, how I dread the winter!’ said the tiny wren. ‘Just imagine how dreadful it would be if no one put any bread crumbs out for us, or no dog left us some of his dinner on a back porch.’

“‘Now,’ said Mr. Brown Wren, ‘you mustn’t think of such sad thoughts. You always [p.11]do! Someone will look after us. And maybe we’ll find a few spiders now and then in the cracks, and then well have a regular feast.’

“The next day they were back again on the snow-berry bush, and the day was much warmer. Now the wrens love to bathe above all things! Even in the winter they will go through a little sheet of ice and get into the cold, cold water underneath. For they must get their baths! And in the spring, when the tiny wrens are brought forth from their mossy nests, the first lesson they have is of bathing in some nearby brook.

“But this day it was early in the morning, the snow-berry bush was covered with dew-drops and the wrens were delighted.

“‘The sun will drive them away soon. Let’s take them while we get the chance,’ whispered Mr. Brown Wren.

“‘Yes, yes,’ said his small companion. ‘We will soon have to bathe when it is so cold. Let us have a good warm bath first.’

“And then those two little brown wrens took the dew-drops in their beaks, and dropped each one in turn on their feathers. [p.12]Then they got under some leaves full of dew-drops and shook them down over their little feathered bodies.

“After they were well covered with the dew-drops they began to shake all over just as every bird does when he takes a bath. And back they went to take another bath when this one was over. For they seemed to enjoy their last warm bath so much!

“Finally they had bathed enough, and the sun appeared strong as could be, and shining very hard. They perched still on the branches of the snow-berry bush and bathed now in the hot sun. Soon their little feathers were quite dry and they began to sing.

“And truly I think their song was one of gladness because of their dew-drop baths!”


Winter Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes) by Ian

Winter Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes) by Ian

Lee’s Addition:

My message shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew, as the light rain upon the tender grass, and as the showers upon the herb. (Deuteronomy 32:2 AMP)

By His knowledge the depths were broken up, And clouds drop down the dew. (Proverbs 3:20 NKJV)

And who do you think is the father of rain and dew, (Job 38:28 MSG)

Another Bird Tales

From

Daddy’s Bedtime Bird Stories – Gutenberg ebooks

By

Mary Graham Bonner

With four illustrations in color by
Florence Choate and Elizabeth Curtis

Daddys Bedtime Story Images

 

These stories first appeared in the American Press Association Service and the Western Newspaper Union.


Many of the sketches in this volume are the work of Rebecca McCann, creator of the “Cheerful Cherub,” etc.

Daddy's Bedtime Bird Stories by Mary Graham Bonner - 1917

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Daddy’s Bedtime Bird Stories by Mary Graham Bonner – 1917

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Links:

Painted Bunting (Passerina ciris) ©©Flickr

 

 

  Bird Tales

 

 

 

 

 

  Daddy’s Bedtime Bird Stories

 

 

 

Spanish Sparrow (Passer Hispaniolensis) female ©WikiC

 

  Wordless Birds

 

 

 

 

Winter Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes) by Ian

 

  Troglodytidae – Wrens Family

 

 

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