“WHAT a glorious morning!" someone is saying. It is indeed, and we are all glad that our weekly holiday gives us time for a long ramble through the woods, for birds and flowers are to be our school-books, we shall find much to observe; much, I hope, also to learn.
Who does not love the month of May? It is so full of beauty, and also of promise. The scent of the hawthorn is wafted to us on the soft breeze; in the chorus of song that greets our ears, we can hardly fail to distinguish the varied notes of several of our feather friends. Many wild and some garden flowers are already in bloom, and, as we cross a pleasant meadow, on our way to the wood, Gertrude asks if I remember some lines written by Miss Havergal, which she thinks may have been suggested by some such day as this.
“Pair the blossoms opening early,
For the dew fell upon them, cool and pearly,
Brightening each hue;
Like a little, thirsty flower, lift thy face,
Seek the gentle, holy shower of His grace.”
The lily of the valley is in full bloom this month; we may not find any in the wood, as, though in the Lake District and a few other places in England, this lovely flower grows wild, it is a general favorite in gardens, and, though quite a different flower from the lily of Palestine, to which the Savior called attention, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow" (Matt. 6:2828And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: (Matthew 6:28)), yet it has a beauty all of its own, and will well repay our study. The lily loves the shade, and almost seems as if it sought to bloom unseen. It usually grows to a height of about six inches; ornamented from the top downwards with pendant white flowers, each attached to the main stem by a short, thread-like foot-stalk. The long, broad leaves of the lily-of the-valley add greatly to its beauty; and, as the flower stands erect, in some shady spot, its head slightly bowed, its pure white blossoms speak of purity and peace; we pause for a moment, for surely it should remind us of One Who once, a Heavenly Stranger, was
“When here upon earth, among men;”
All purity, pity, lowly grace, and gentleness.
“Lepers gathered round Him,
Sinners sought His face;
None too vile or loathsome
For a Savior's grace.”
When on earth, the Sinless Savior stood alone, the only One on Whom the eye of a holy God could rest with satisfaction; The One of Whom His Voice could declare, “This is My Beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased." (Matt. 3:1717And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. (Matthew 3:17).)
Some years ago a friend gave me a single root of the lily-of-the-valley. I planted it under a south wall; sunshine and shower did their work, and it grew and flourished. I watched its growth with interest, and rejoiced when a single spike of bloom unfolded among sheltering leaves. Its beauty was but short-lived; the blossoms faded, the plant died down, to all appearance my lily was dead; but, underground work I could not see was going on, rootlets were forcing their way downwards, while tiny bloom shoots were pressing upwards towards air and light. The next spring-time, where my lily had stood alone, a whole clump, pure and graceful as the parent blossomed into beauty, and filled the air with their perfume. Not one, but many; and to me their message was, “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." (John 12:2424Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. (John 12:24).)
In life the Lord Jesus was ALONE, in holiness, in truth and love. Upon the Cross He was ALONE, but, as Risen from the dead, He became the Leader of a new race; of a new company; and of that company even the weakest and feeblest believer forms a part. No words of mine can explain this wondrous truth to you, dear young Christian, but, if you really want to know, pray about it, and the Holy Spirit will be your Teacher, your Guide into all truth.
The birds are having a busy time, for, in nearly every nest is a brood of newly-hatched, half-fledged, wee birdies, still unable to fly, and needing the constant care and attention of the parents. The number of journeys from and to the nest, to supply food to the hungry, little creatures between sunrise and sunset, has often been a matter of surprise to those who have given time, and taken the trouble to study the ways of Birdland.
We shall notice great variety in the way in which our British birds build their nests; and, though some are Shore-birds, and we shall not find their nests in fields, or woods, our talk about nests and nest-builders, will I hope, not prove a dull, or uninteresting one. The Sand-martin seems quite content to lay her eggs in a hole dug in the sand, and lined with straw. The Kingfisher collects fish-bones, for a bed in some hole in the bank of a river, or stream. The Bottle-tit, though one of the smallest of the tit family, takes great pains to build a cozy, little nest; while the Moorhen is a most careful mother, and builds nest after nest, for each brood, for, as the chicks grow larger, more room is required. The nest of the Ring-dove is quickly and loosely built; often in a forked branch; sometimes in a hollow tree. The Partridge does not build a nest, but, choosing a clump of grass, walks round and round in the center till it is well trodden down, a hollow deep enough to receive the eggs being thus formed. One kind of sea-fowl forms its nest of broken shells; another of brown, slimy seaweed. How does it happen that each bird chooses the site for building where it will be best able to find the kind of food required by its young? It is guided by no blind law of chance, but by the unerring instinct implanted in it by its Great Creator; The mighty God,
“Who wings a seraph, guides a sparrow's fall.”
Listen! There is the well-known note of the Cuckoo. The habits of this strange bird have long been a puzzle to Naturalists. It is, as we all know, a bird of passage, and spends the winter months abroad. It does not build a nest for itself; but leaves its eggs and young in the care of some other bird, always taking care to choose one whose nestlings, like its own, require to be fed on insects. The favorite nests appear to be those of the Meadow-Pipit, Water Wagtail and Hedge Sparrow; but Cuckoo eggs are often found in the nests of other birds. It is said, that when the foster-mother has been killed, the Cuckoo has been known to return and feed its own chicks; but such instances are very rare.
The Cuckoo is a brown bird, not quite as large as a pigeon. For the size of the bird, its eggs are very small, and not unlike those of the birds in whose nests they are left, but the young Cuckoo grows so quickly, that when only two or three days old it is able to lift with its strong bill, and turn out of the nest, the eggs and young birds of its foster-parents; while it requires so much food that they have a hard time in finding enough to supply its wants.
An old rhyme, common in the North of England says of the Cuckoo:—
“In April come it will,
In May it sings all day;
In June it changes its tune,
In July it may fly,
In August go it must.”
I am not sure that the last line is quite correct, as I remember once, when in Kent, hearing the Cuckoo's call early in September. Perhaps the birds may remain a few days later in the south than the north of our island home; their going like their coming, may depend in part upon whether the season is warm and open, or the reverse.
Though the Stork seldom, if ever, visits our shores, still as it is named in the verse that forms the heading of this chapter, it is certainly well worth our notice. The Stork, like the Crane, is a tall, long-legged bird. It usually spends the winter in Africa or Egypt; and, though J. G. Wood, who wrote several delightful books on Natural History, says that there are good reasons for thinking that at one time the Stork was a frequent visitor to the British Isles, it is now so uncommon that the appearance of one would cause quite a sensation, and it would most likely soon be shot.
The children of Holland and Denmark, watch for its arrival, just as our children do for that of the Cuckoo, and sing little songs of welcome. A cart-wheel is sometimes fixed upon the roof of a house to encourage the birds to build there. Year after year a pair of Storks have been known to return to the same nest, and when kindly treated, soon make themselves at home.
A short time ago I read in a Missionary Magazine an interesting story of a Stork, that made itself useful as a Postman.
Some children, living, I believe, in Denmark, had made pets of a pair of Storks, who built their nest upon the almost flat roof of a workshop belonging to their father. One of the birds had grown so tame that it would come at their call and take food from their hands. But, as the days grew shorter, they knew the time when they, like other birds of passage, must take their flight, was near.
After talking it over between themselves they decided to write a letter and tie it under the wing of the bird; they did so, telling in their own simple way, that the bird had been their pet, and asking, whoever read the letter, to be very kind to and never forget to feed it. The birds soon after left their summer home, but the next spring returned.
Their little friends were delighted; but judge of their surprise when they found it had again been employed as a letter-carrier. Their letter had been read by a Missionary working, almost single-handed, in Central Africa, who replied to it by saying that he thought children who were so kind to a bird would be interested in hearing about the black boys and girls among whom he lived and worked.
Quite a number of them were orphans, having lost one or both parents during an outbreak of fever the year before; several who had no relations to care for them, he had taken into his own home, though it was only a hut, somewhat larger than those in which the natives lived. He and his wife were caring for, feeding and teaching them; a few, they hoped, really loved the Lord Jesus; but they were all very badly off for clothes; and he thought, that perhaps, if the need was known, that the children of Holland (who are such clever toy-makers) would like, he hoped, from love to Christ, to spend part of their play-time in making garments.
The correspondence, thus strangely begun, was followed up, and more than one box of clothing gladdened the heart of the missionaries.
“Yea, the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times; and the turtle, and the crane, and the swallow observe the time of their coming; but My people know not the judgment of the Lord." (Jer. 8:7.)