Everyday birds: Elementary studies — Reading Notes
Edition facts
The source record for Everyday birds: Elementary studies — Reading Notes measures this digital text at 25,791 words, 1 hr 53 min estimated reading time, and 29 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 22.3 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Birds -- Popular works,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
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- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
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FRIENDS ON THE SHELF. 12mo, $1.25, _net_. Postage extra.
NATURE’S INVITATION. 16mo, $1.10, _net_. Postpaid, $1.21.
THE CLERK OF THE WOODS. 16mo, $1.10, _net_. Postpaid, $1.20.
FOOTING IT IN FRANCONIA. 16mo, $1.10, _net_. Postpaid, $1.19.
EVERYDAY BIRDS. Elementary Studies. With twelve colored Illustrations reproduced from Audubon. Square 12mo, $1.00.
BIRDS IN THE BUSH. 16mo, $1.25.
A RAMBLER’S LEASE. 16mo, $1.25.
THE FOOT-PATH WAY. 16mo, gilt top, $1.25.
A FLORIDA SKETCH-BOOK. 16mo, $1.25.
SPRING NOTES FROM TENNESSEE. 16mo, $1.25.
A WORLD OF GREEN HILLS. 16mo, $1.25.
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. BOSTON AND NEW YORK.
_WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLORS AFTER AUDUBON, AND TWO FROM PHOTOGRAPHS_
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY The Riverside Press, Cambridge
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY BRADFORD TORREY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
I. TWO LITTLE KINGS 1
III. THE BROWN CREEPER 10
IV. THE BROWN THRASHER 15
V. THE BUTCHER-BIRD 19
VI. THE SCARLET TANAGER 22
VII. THE SONG SPARROW 26
VIII. THE FIELD SPARROW AND THE CHIPPER 30
IX. SOME APRIL SPARROWS 35
X. THE ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK 40
XIII. THE HUMMINGBIRD 51
XIV. THE CHIMNEY SWIFT 56
XV. NIGHTHAWK AND WHIP-POOR-WILL 59
XVIII. BIRDS FOR EVERYBODY 82
XIX. WINTER PENSIONERS 87
XX. WATCHING THE PROCESSION 93
XXI. SOUTHWARD BOUND 99
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
BLUE JAY (page 43) _Frontispiece_
GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET 2
ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK 40
RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD 52
_The illustrations entitled A Downy Woodpecker and A Branch Establishment, facing page 88, are from photographs by Mr. Frank M. Chapman and were first printed in Bird-Lore._
The largest bird in the United States is the California vulture, or condor, which measures from tip to tip of its wings nine feet and a half. At the other end of the scale are the hummingbirds, one kind of which, at least, has wings that are less than an inch and a half in length. Next to these insect-like midgets come the birds which have been well named in Latin “Regulus,” and in English “kinglets,”--that is to say, little kings. The fitness of the title comes first from their tiny size,--the chickadee is almost a giant in comparison,--and next from the fact that they wear patches of bright color (crowns) on their heads.
Two species of kinglets are found at one season or another in nearly all parts of the United States, and are known respectively as the golden-crown--or goldcrest--and the ruby-crown. The golden-crown has on the top of its head an orange or yellow patch (sometimes one, sometimes the other) bordered with black; the ruby-crown wears a very bright red patch, though you may look at many specimens without finding it. Only part of the birds have it,--the adult males, perhaps,--and even those that have it do not always display it. The orange or yellow of the goldcrest, on the other hand, is worn by all the birds, and is never concealed. If you are a beginner in bird study, uncertain of your species, look for the black stripes on the crown. If they are not there, and the bird is really a kinglet, it must be a ruby-crown. You may know it, also,--from the goldcrest, I mean,--by what looks like a light-colored ring round the eye. In fact, one of the ruby-crown’s most noticeable peculiarities is a certain bareheaded, large-eyed appearance.
Unless your home is near or beyond the northern boundary of the United States, you need not look for either kinglet in summer. The ruby-crown is to be seen during its migrations in spring and fall, the goldcrest in fall, winter, and spring.
At any time of the year they are well worth knowing. Nobody could look at them without admiration; so pretty, so tiny, and so exceedingly quick and graceful in their motions. Both species are of a prevailing greenish or olive shade, with noticeable light-colored wing-bars, and light, unstreaked, unspotted under parts.
The ruby-crown is famous as a singer. A genuine music-box, we may call him. In spring, especially, he is often bubbling over with melody; a rapid, wren-like tune, with sundry quirks and turns that are all his own; on the whole decidedly original, with plenty of what musical people call accent and a strongly marked rhythm or swing. Over and over he goes with it, as if he could never have enough; beginning with quick, separate, almost guttural notes, and winding up with a _twittity, twittity, twittity_, which, once heard, is not likely to be soon forgotten.
Bradford Torrey opens Everyday Birds with a striking contrast: the California condor, with its nine-and-a-half-foot wingspan, and the hummingbird, whose wings measure less than an inch and a half. Between these extremes he places the kinglets, “little kings” named for their tiny size. This taxonomic framing sets the tone for a collection that moves nimbly between scientific observation and personal anecdote. Torrey’s voice is that of a seasoned naturalist who delights in correcting popular errors—not through lecture, but through stories that unfold at the pace of a country walk.
Anecdote as Argument
Torrey frequently builds his essays around a remembered conversation or encounter. In the chapter on nighthawks and whip-poor-wills, he recounts a farmer who insists the two birds are the same species—“the he one and t’ other’s the she one.” Rather than dismiss the man, Torrey lets the dialogue stand, then gently supplies evidence: the nighthawk is crepuscular, often flying at midday; the whip-poor-will sings only after dark. He even cites a Massachusetts egg collector who shared the same confusion. This method—letting error be voiced before correction—gives the prose a patient, almost Socratic rhythm. The reader is not told what to think but is led to observe along with the author.
Voice and Pace in the Field
Torrey’s narrative pace shifts with his subject. When describing the kinglet’s nest-building, he quickens the tempo: “his movements are so rapid” and he “acts upon the old motto, ‘Try, try again.’” The sentence structure mirrors the bird’s darting energy. By contrast, the discussion of nighthawk flight is measured, almost leisurely: “The bird rises gradually to a considerable height, and presently drops like a stone almost to the ground.” Torrey notes he has observed this aerial display from Boston’s Public Garden, grounding the description in a specific, urban setting. His language is precise without being technical—he calls the nighthawk’s call “guttural-nasal,” a phrase that conveys sound without jargon.
The Limits of the Excerpts
The available excerpts cover only two chapters: “Two Little Kings” and “Nighthawk and Whip-poor-will.” From these, we see Torrey’s fondness for dialogue and his habit of embedding natural history in social exchange. But the full table of contents lists twenty-one chapters, including studies of the chickadee, brown creeper, song sparrow, and blue jay. Whether Torrey maintains the same anecdotal structure throughout—or shifts to a more systematic approach in later chapters—cannot be determined from the sample. Readers should expect a mix of close observation and personal narrative, but the book’s overall arc remains unknown from these pages alone.
Torrey’s essays reward the reader who attends to his asides and digressions. The farmer who mistakes bluebirds for “blue snowbirds” is not a foil but a fellow observer, however mistaken. In Everyday Birds, science proceeds by conversation, and the naturalist’s authority is worn lightly. Approach these studies as you might a walk with a knowledgeable companion: ready to pause, to question, and to look again.
That rainy afternoon, Everyday Birds sat open on my lap, Torrey’s gentle, amused patience seeping into the gray light. His quiet watching made me think of other men, equally patient, waiting for something bigger. I closed the birds and, without quite meaning to, pulled down Big Game Shooting, volume 2 (of 2) — Reading Companion. Different prey, same stillness. The rain kept falling, and I just turned pages.
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