Feathers in Fall Bonnets of 1874

One of the most distinguished bonnets is of steel blue velvet trimmed with loops and torsade of lighter blue. The crown is covered with black net, dotted with blue steel spangles. The brim flares upward all around, is faced with the darkest velvet, and against it rests a vine of blue steel leaves. At the back of the bonnet is a pink rose cluster. A second of deepest sea blue velvet and gros grain has a soft cap crown of velvet, with a high rolled coronet of gros grain; below the coronet is a roll of velvet tied behind in a tiny bow without ends. A spray of blue steel leaves in front is the only ornament in this compact and tasteful bonnet.

An olive brown bonnet of the darkest shade of velvet has around the crown a scarf of wide ribbon that is salmon-covered satin on one side and olive gros grain on the other; this laps behind, and has short square ends raveled as fringe. A wreath of tinted geranium leaves is in front, two long nodding cock's plumes on the left, and a cluster of pink and scarlet roses behind.

The prettiest bonnet is of chestnut brown velvet, with brown satin crown, and velvet brim turned straight up in front. Three pink and yellow roses are directly in front, with some upturned sprays of white velvet forget-me-nots. Still above this are pink and white heron feathers, while behind is a long looped bow of the velvet and satin.

A black velvet bonnet is made youthful-looking by a scarf of wide double-faced-ribbon — poncean satin on one side and black gros grain on the other — being tied around the crown; a red and black bird, with head down and spread wings, is on he soft pleats of the crown in front. Another black velvet has pink and black ribbon, with dangling oats of jet all around the crown.

A mouse-colored velvet has a crown of pearl gray gros grain; the brim is pointed high in front, and supports a wreath of shaded scarlet geraniums. A scoop bonnet of myrtle green velvet has the crown formed of the green satin side of a double-faced scarf ribbon. A second of green velvet has the brim covered with leaves that are beaded with green; white heron's plume and three large full rose-buds, scarlet, pink and salmon, are the trimmings.

August 22, 1874. The fall bonnets. Putnam County Courier 33(16): 1.

Migrating Birds Fly Into New York Office

One would hardly think of looking in the composing, or even editorial rooms, of a new York daily paper for living birds; yet during the last month several birds, migrating at night, have flown in at the windows of The Tribune rooms on the top floors of their new building about midnight, and their names have been taken. Thus came a ruby-crowned kinglet (Regulus calendula); a golden-crested kinglet (Regulus satrapa); a pine-creeping warbler (Dendroeca pinus); a white-eyed vireo (Vireo noveborensis); two white-throated sparrows (Zonotrochia albicollis); a snow bird (Junco hyemalis); and last, Wilson's black cap (Myiodioetes pusillias).

[Ernest Ingersoll]. November 4, 1875. Forest and Stream 5(13): 195. Scientific name typos have been corrected.

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Kinglets and Warblers in Captivity at Jersey City

Jersey City, N.J., December 24th, 1875.

Editor Forest and Stream:—

My husband brought home, at different times, last October, several kinglets, one of which was the ruby-crowned, and the other the golden-crested, that had flown into his office in the top of the building, at midnight. They were all let loose in the house, and soon became very tame. At one time a gold-crest and a pine-creeping warbler were brought home by him, which we had for a night and day. For the first five or six hours they kept flying from the top of one door or window easing to the top of another; but after that the kinglet became bolder, and began to investigate the premises, and later in the day he would alight on the heads of any and every person entering, and allow himself to be handled even by our little two-year old. For food, he appeared to pick up crumbs, and helped himself to lice on some plants in the window. Catching sight of himself in a hand mirror lying on the table, he immediately hopped upon the glass, and began an energetic flapping of his wings, at the same time chirping loudly, as though to attract the attention of his vis a vis. I remarked it as a curious fact that, while he paid so much attention to his reflection, returning again and again to the mirror, he never noticed the warbler, or attempted to strike up an acquaintance with him. This kinglet, like all the rest, seemed entirely at home, and even when the window was opened and he was pushed out, he came flying back several times before he could make up his mind to leave us. But at least he did, and the last we saw of the gay little chap he was gleaning among the grape vines. Meanwhile the warbler seemed perfectly untamable, and would let no one come near enough to touch him. As night came on he became very restless, and threw himself against the window panes in frantic efforts to get out. This violence was very different from his demeanor during the day, since although sad and shy, he made no attempt to escape from the room, and I regarded it as an indication that it was his invariable habit to migrate at night, remaining quiet during the day. Seeing his distress, we opened the window and the captive joyfully darted out, and shot like a rocket up into the southern sky. Two white-throated sparrows were also caught at the office, and are mentioned, among others, in Forest and Stream of November 4th. They were taken home by a gentleman of our acquaintance and caged. He succeeded in reconciling them to confinement, but one died without any apparent cause, after four or five weeks. The other became so tame that he was given the liberty of the room, and would not leave even when the window was open. At last, only a few days ago, as he was standing on the sill of the open window, a sudden movement frightened him, and he hastily flew away.

Mrs. E.I. [Ernest Ingersoll.] January 6, 1876. Forest and Stream 5(22): 340.

Continual Deaths of Wildbirds Among Omaha Buildings

Misery and death for hundreds of birds continues unabated among the buildings in downtown Omaha, along the Missouri River in Nebraska.

On October 12, 2012 it was expressed once again on the 400th instance of personally documenting birds striking building windows. It was another chilly morning, when in the pre-dawn dark, a bicycle was ridden eastward up and down the hills, while avoiding incessant traffic to go around to sites where birds suffer or have met their untimely demise.

This particular Friday morning, four strike instances were found along the route of discovery:

1: a disabled Lincoln's Sparrow at the north-facing entry towards the south end of the west side of the Qwest/CenturyLink Center Omaha; it was during the time before 7 a.m., but it had already recovered enough to fly away before it could be photographed;

2: a disabled Hermit Thrush, sitting below an expanse of windows on the west of the Gottschalk Freedom Center, a building of the Omaha World-Herald newspaper; it was not bobbing its tail while recovering from being knocked senseless at the glass, and was stationary enough that pictures were easily taken;

3: a bit further along at the same buildings' wall of glass was a dead Grasshopper Sparrow at its southern end; this bit of bird-life was going south but its fate was as a carcass in the River City environs; and

4: a dead Orange-crowned Sparrow, mostly flattened by the entryway on the east side of the empty Law Building; someone had stepped upon the carcass, already dead upon the sidewalk.

Window strikes occur on a regular, recurring basis in Omaha. Since May 1, 2008, on a day of a slightly significant instance for another purpose, whence upon a bicycle ride about, there were dead birds on the downtown sidewalks. The result was and has been an exodus of investigation.

Following the results of the most recent outing of these times, there are 1376 records available which document window-strikes associated with 99 different species, for 178 different dates at 84 different buildings. And these are just the known instances.

The words of one sentence are quite insignificant in regards to the actuality of what has happened, again and again. Oh, and again.

The Common Yellowthroat and Lincoln's Sparrow are, sadly, represented in the tally more than any other species, since as of mid-October, for each species, there have been 150 known window-strike instances for the two species. Following in significance on the depictive list are the Purple Martin, Nashville Warbler and Common Grackle.

Every window-strike, especially when the result is a bird death, is a significant tragedy, mostly unknown. In the past five years, it has been an endeavor of discovery, which has been presented with a burden and has meant a focus of documenting the window strikes. So these instances have not been forgotten.

This commentary is based upon findings of 1456 particular records of window-strikes in Douglas County and Lancaster County (Lincoln) in Nebraska, where the initial realization of this sordid fate for unsuspecting wildbirds, started one morning at the latter place.

Every impact has been a tragedy of significance. Any sense of significance seems to depend upon an individual's perspective. Some building owners continue to resort to subterfuge and indifference to hid what is happening. At a couple of buildings, efforts have been taken to reduce any strike occurrence. Many others simply are not aware the features of their building are hazardous.

Mid-week, there had been an expectation for strike instances on the morning of the 10th day of October, but none were found. The situation was similar on the 11th, along the typical route. Thankfully there are days when no disabled or dead birds are found. These mornings of nothing convey that surveys have been done on many more than four hundred days.

Conditions in downtown Omaha cause an extensive and ongoing extent of window-strikes. And there are certainly other records, undocumented due to particular efforts to remove strike occurrences, especially now at the Holland Performing Arts Center, and formerly at the Qwest/CenturyLink Center Omaha.

It is an ongoing tragedy of the commons. It has been my privilege to recognize the misery, respond in favor of the birds, and to advocate for changes which might mean fewer tragedies at the glass.

There have been no other efforts to investigate the urban-scape to determine the extent of window strikes by birds.

The situation at Omaha is an ongoing tragedy of bird misery, and it being ignored is the second tragedy, as there are options, which need to be considered in a focused manner where there can be results for the birds, because though they have their own voice and expression, it seems to be mostly ignored by people that might make a difference.

Singular Occurrence

One night a short time since an immense flock of birds passed over Sharpsville, Mercer county. In their course they flew over the Douglas furnaces, and commenced dropping by the hundreds, until there was a perfect shower of them. It is supposed they became bewildered, and flying too near the furnaces were suffocated by the gas and smoke. A great many of them were badly burned, and the stench becoming so great, that they were gathered up and thrown into the furnaces. The next morning dead birds were found lying all about the vicinity of the furnaces, and a number of persons collected them by the basketful, for the purpose of having them stuffed, and taxidermists were in demand. The singular part of the affair is that the birds were of different species — embracing bluebirds, redbirds, woodcocks, yellow birds, wild ducks, and a number of varieties — many of them having beautiful plumage. How such a collection migrated together is a mystery.

June 19, 1878. Somerset Herald 27(2): 1. Issued at Somerset, Pa.