Bird-ways

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LIBRARY

OF

THEAMERiaN MUSEUM

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NATURAL HISTORY

BIRD-WAYS

So^-^a^ 0^,

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OLIVE THORNE MILLER

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

(9r6c fii\)cr?iDg Press, CambriDoe

1894

Copyright, 1885,
By H. M. MILLER

A U rights reserved.

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O, Houghton & Company.

The Bird is not in its ounces and inches, hut in its rela-
tions to Nature ; and the skin or skeleton you show me is no
more a heron, than a heap of ashes or a bottle of gases into
which his body has been reduced, is Dante or Washington.
— Emerson.

INTRODUCTORY.

In offering to bird-lovers these studies from
life, I wish to say that with the exception of
an incident or two — properly credited — every-
thing herein recorded came under my own ob-
servation, and is literally and entirely true so
far as the fact is concerned ; I may have some-
times misunderstood the motives of the little
actors in the drama, but the account of their
actions may be implicitly relied upon.

Also I should like to explain how a lover of
free birds can endure to keep them in confine-
ment. Each inhabitant of a cage in my house
has been liberated from the positive discomforts
of a bird-store, and besides the unwearied effort
to make their lives happy and as free as pos-
sible in a room, the moment one shows a desire

vi INTRODUCTORY.

for the world outside my windows, he is gladly
allowed to depart.

Chapter V. is reprinted from " Harper's Mag-
azine," by courtesy of the proprietors.

OLIVE THORNE MILLER.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

L The Bird of the Morning 1

American Robin. Turdus migratorius.

II. The Bird of Solitude 13

Wood Thrush. Turdus mustelinus.

III. A Gentle Spirit 31

Wood Thrush.

IV. A Winter Bird-Study 41

European Song Thrush. Turdus musicus.

V. In the Cat-Bird's Nook 61

Cat-bird. Mimus Carol inensis.
VI. "Tricks and Manners" of a Cat-Bird . . 73

VII. The Bird of Society ... 93

Redwing Blackbird. Agelceus phccniceus.

VIII. Upon the Tree-Top 109

Baltimore Oriole. Icterus galbula.
IX. Transient Guests in the Bird-Room . . . 131

X. A Ruffian in Feathers 151

House Sparrow. Passer domesticus.

XL A Tragedy in the Maple-Tree 161

House Sparrow.

Vlii CONTENTS.
XII. Trouble in the Honeysuckles 173

House Sparrow.
Xni. The Bird of the Street 183

House Sparrow.
XIV. These are your Brothers 201

House Sparrow.

THE BIRD OF THE MORNING.

"The bird for all Nature chants the morning hymn and
the benediction of the day. He is her priest and her augur,
her divine and innocent voice.*' — Michelet.

I.

THE BIRD OF THE MORNING.

If every bird has his vocation, as a poetical
French writer suggests, that of the American
robin must be to inspire cheerfulness and con-
tentment in men. His joyous " Cheer up !
Cheer up ! Cheery ! Be cheery ! Be cheery ! "
poured out in the early morning from the top
branch of the highest tree in the neighborhood,
is one of the most stimulating sounds of spring.
He must be unfeehng indeed who can help de-
serting his bed and peering through blinds till
he discovers the charming philosopher, with
head erect and breast glowing in the dawning
light, forgetting the cares of life in the ecstasy
of song.

Besides admonishing others to cheerfulness,
the robin sets the example. Not only is his
cheering voice the first in the morning and the
last at night, — of the day birds, — but no
rain is wet enough to dampen his spirits. In a
drizzly, uncomfortable day, when all other birc s

4 THE BIRD OF THE MORNING.

go about their necessary tasks of food-hunting
in dismal silence, the robin is not a whit less
happy than when the sun shines ; and his
cheery voice rings out to comfort not only the
inmates of the damp little home in the maple,
but the owners of waterproofs and umbrellas
who mope in the house.

The most delightful study of one summer,
not long ago, was the daily life, the joys and
sorrows, of a family of robins, whose pretty
castle in the air rested on a stout fork of a
maple-tree branch near my window. Da}^ by
day I watched their ways till I learned to know
them well.

The seat chosen for observations was under a
tree on the lawn, which happened to be the
robin's hunting-ground; and here I sat for
hours at a time, quietly looking on at his work,
and listening to the robin talk around me ; the
low, confidential chat in the tree where the little
wife was busy, the lively gossip across the
street with neighbors in another tree, the warn-
ing " Tut ! tut ! " when a stranger appeared,
the war cry when an intruding bird was to be
driven away, and the joyous " Pe-e-p ! tut, tut,
tut ! " when he alighted on the fence and sur-
veyed the lawn before him, flapping his wings
and jerking his tail w^ith every note.

In truth, the sounds one hears in a robin

THE BIRD OF THE MORNING. 5

neighborhood are almost as various as those
that salute his ear among people : the laugh,
the cry, the scold, the gentle word, the warn-
ing, the alarm, and many others.

When I first took my seat I felt like an in-
truder, which the robin plainly considered me
to be. He eyed me with the greatest suspicion,
alighting on the ground in a terrible flutter, re-
solved to brave the ogre, yet on the alert, and
ready for instant flight should anything threaten.
The moment he touched the ground, he would
lower his head and run with breathless haste
five or six feet ; then stop, raise his head as
pert as a daisy, and look at the monster to see
if it had moved. After convincing himself
that all was safe, he would turn his eyes down-
ward, and in an instant thrust his bill into the
soil where the sod was thin, throwing up a lit-
tle shower of earth, and doing this again and
again, so vehemently that sometimes he was
taken off his feet by the jerk. Then he would
drag out a worm, run a few feet farther in a
panic-stricken way, as though '' taking his life
in his hands," again look on the ground, and
again pull out a worm ; all the time in an in-
consequent manner, as though he had nothing
particular on his mind, and merely collected
worms by way of passing the time.

So he would go on, never eating a morsel,

6 THE BIRD OF TEE MORNING.

but gathering worms till he had three or four
of the wriggling creatures hanging from his
firm little beak. Then he would fly to a low
branch, run up a little way, take another short
flight, and thus having, as he plainly intended
by this zigzag course, completely deceived the
observer as to his destination, he would slip
quietly to the nest and quickly dispose of his
load. In half a minute he was back again, run-
ning and watching, and digging as before. And
this work he kept up nearly all day. In si-
lence, too, for noisy and talkative as the bird is,
he keeps his mouth shut when on the ground.
In all my watching of robins for years in sev-
eral places, I scarcely ever heard one make a
sound when on the ground, near a human
dwelling.

Once I was looking through blinds, and the
bird did not see me. He had, after much labor,
secured an unusually large worm, and it lay a
few inches away where it fell as he gave it the
final " yank." This was an extraordinary case ;
the robin was too full to hold in, and there
bubbled out of his closed bill a soft '* Cheery !
cheery ! be cheery ! " hardly above a whisper
and half frightened withal. Then snatching
the trophy he flew away, doubtless to show his
luck, and tell hia tale at home.

The robin has been accused of being quarrel-

THE BIRD OF THE MORNING. 7

some ; and to be sure he does defend his home
with vigor, driving away any bird which ven-
tures to alight on his special maple-tree, some-
times with a loud cry of defiance, and again
without a sound, but fairly flinging himself
after the intruder so furiously that not even the
king-bird — noted as a tyrant over much larger
birds — can withstand him. But jealous as he
is of his own, he is equally ready to assist a
neighbor in trouble. One day while I was
studying him a great uproar arose in the or-
chard. Robin voices were heard in loud cries,
and instantly those near the house took wing
for the scene of distress. With my glass I
could see many robins flying about one spot,
and diving one after another into the grass,
where there was a great commotion and cries
of some other creature, — I thought a hen. The
robins were furious, and the fight grew very
warm, while every now and then a small object
was tossed into the air.

Hurrying down to the scene of the warfare,
I found that the creature in the grass was a
hen-turkey with one chick. She was wild with
rage, shaking and tossing up what looked like
another young turkey, and the robins, evidently
taking the side of the victim, were delivering
sharp pecks and scolding vigorously. Securing
with some difficulty the object of her fury, 1

8 THE BIRD OF THE MORNING.

found it to be a young robin, which had fallen
from a nest, and which, no doubt, the usually
meek turkey thought threatened danger to hei"
own infant.

The poor little fellow was too badly hurt to
live, and although the turkey was removed,
some time passed before calmness was restored
to tlie neigliborhood. It seemed to me that tlie
chatter in the trees that evening was kept up
longer than usual, and I fancied that every little
youngster still living in the nest heard the dire-
ful tale, and received a solemn warning.

I was surprised to discover, in my close atten-
tion to them, that although early to rise, robins
are by no means early to bed. Long after every
feather was supposed to be at rest for the night,
I would sit out and listen to the gossip, the last
words, the scraps of song, — different in every
individual robin, yet all variations on the theme
" Be cheery," — and often the sharp '' He he he
he he ! " so like a girl's laugh, out of the shad-
owy depths of the maple.

Once I saw a performance that looked as if
the robin wanted to play a joke " with intent
to deceive." Hearing a strange bird-note, as
usual I hastened to my post. From the depths
of a thick chestnut-tree came every moment
a long-drawn-out, mournful " S-e-e-e-p ! " as
though some bird was calling its mate. It was

THE BIRD OF THE MORNING. 9

not very loud, but it was urgent, and I looked
the tree over very carefully with my opera-
glass before I caught sight of the culprit, and
was amazed to see the robin. The tone was so
entirely unlike any I ever heard from him that
I should not have suspected him even then, but
I saw him in the very act. No sooner did he
notice that he was observed than he gave a loud
mocking '' He he he ! " and flew across the lawn
to his own tree.

One morning he was not to be seen at his
usual work, but a furious calling came from the
other side of the lawn. It was anxious and
urgent, and it was incessant. I resolved to see
what was the matter. Stealing quietly along,
I came in sight of the bird, loudly calling, flut-
tering his wings, and in evident trouble, though
I could not imagine the cause, until looking
closely I saw perched on a branch of a cedar-
tree a fat, stupid-looking bird, fully as big as
the robin, and covered with feathers, but with a
speckled breast, and no tail worth mentioning.

There he sat, like a lump of dough, head
down in his shoulders, and bill sticking almost
straight up, and neither the tenderest coaxing
nor the loudest scolding moved him in the least.
In fact, I thought he was dead, till the opera-
glass showed that he winked. But stupid as he
looked, he was the darling of the heart in that

10 THE BIRD OF THE MORNING.

little red breast, and the parent fluttered wildly
about while I found a stick, and jarred the
branch slightly as a gentle hint that he should
obey his papa. That started the youngster, and
away he flew, as well as anybody, to the other
side of the walk.

Wondering why the mother did not take part
in this training, I peeped into the nest, where I
found her sitting, and I concluded she must be
raising a second family. It was indeed time
for that grown-up baby to learn to care for him-
self, before there was another family to feed.
While I was looking at the nest and its fright-
ened yet brave little owner, the young robin
came back and alighted on the ground, and so
proud and happy yet so anxious a parent is
rarely seen. It was soon evident that this was
Master Robin's first lesson in the worm busi-
ness ; he was now to be taught the base of sup-
plies, and I kept very quiet while the scene
went on. The father would hop ahead a few
feet and call persuasively, " Come on ! " The
awkward youngling answered loudly, "Wait I
wait ! " Then he would hop a few steps, and
papa would dig up a worm to show him how,
and tenderly offer it as a slight lunch after
his exertion. So they went on, that clumsy
and greedy youngster induced by his desire for
worms, while the patient teacher encouraged,

THE BIRD OF THE MORNING. 11

and worked for him. As for making an effort
for himself, the notion never entered his head.

Not long after I saw one of the same brood
seated on a twig and asking to be fed. I was
quite near, and the robin papa hesitated to
come. Master Robin called more and more
sharply, drawing up his wings without opening
them, exactly like a shrug of the shoulders,
and jerking his body in such a way that it
looked like stamping his foot. It was a funny
exhibition of youthful imperiousness, and re-
sembled what in a child we call " spunkiness."

One of the most interesting entertainments
of the later days was to hear the young bird's
music lesson. In the early morning the father
would place himself in the thickest part of the
tree, not as usual in plain sight on the top, and
with his pupil near him would begin, " Cheery !
cheery ! be cheery ! " in a loud, clear voice ; and
then would follow a feeble, wavering, uncertain
attempt to copy the song. Again papa would
chant the first strain, and baby would pipe out
his funny notes. This was kept up, till in a
surprisingly short time, after much daily prac-
tice both with the copy and without, I could
hardly tell father from son.

The baby robin taken apart from his kind is
an interesting study. Before he can fairly bal-
ance himself on his uncertain, wavering little

12 THE BIRD OF THE MORNING.

legs, or lay claim to more than the promise of
a tail, he displaj^s the brave, self-reliant spirit
of his race. He utters loud, defiant calls, pecks
boldly at an intruding hand, and stands — as
well as he is able — staring one full in the face
without blinking, asserting by his attitude and
by every bristling feather that he is a living
being, — he too has an " inalienable right to life,
liberty, etc. ; " and, in the depths of your soul,
you cannot gainsay him. If you have already,
in his helpless infancy, made him captive, the
blush of shame arises, and you involuntarily
throw wide the prison doors.

To return to my study ; when the maple
leaves turned in the fall, and the little home in
the tree was left empty and desolate, I had it
brought down to examine. It was a curious
and remarkably well-made nest, being a perfect
cup of clay, a little thicker around the top, well
moulded, and covered inside and out with dry
grass. This snug cottage of clay has been the
scene of some of the sweetest experiences of all
lives, great as well as small. For the happiness
it has held I will preserve it : and thus moral-
izing I placed it on a bracket in memory of a
delightful study of the Bird of the Morning.

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

The little bird sits at his door in the sun

Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,

And lets his illumined being o'errun

With the deluge of summer it receives ;

His mate feels her eggs beneath her wings,

And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings

He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest.

In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best 1 "

Lowell.

II.

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

When from some deep, secluded wood you
hear the rich, flute-like notes of a " bird in the
solitude singing," turn instantly from the path,
follow in silence that enticing voice, and you
may at last come near the mysterious songster.
If, happily, you are able to locate sound, you
may be further charmed by sight of him, glow-
ing with musical ardor; but if not, you may
search the woods vainly, so motionless is he, and
so completely do the soft tints of his plumage
harmonize in coloring with the branch upon
which he stands. He is worthy this careful fol-
lowing : he is the most beautiful, the finest in
song, and the noblest in character of the winged
order in America. He is the wood thrush.

Sometimes, when you thus come upon him,
you will find madam his spouse upon a lower
branch of the same tree. She will not fly ;
wild panic is not in the thrush. She will stand
and look at you, expressing her disapproval by

16 TEE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

a lively " quit I quit ! " at the same time raising
the feathers of head, neck, and shoulders, till
she appears to be adorned with a high ruff and
shoulder cape. If you refuse to take the hint
and move away, she will finally drop her voice
into a low '•'• tut, tut," showing her excitement
by quick, nervous jerks of both wings and tail.
After a little, her demonstrations will bring to
her side the beautiful singer himself. Like a
feather he alights on the branch, the perfect
copy of his mate. A few low remarks, evi-
dently derogatory to you, are exchanged, and
away they fly together.

Should you come too near the singer, when
alone, or should something in your manner
arouse his suspicions, he will slip down behind
the tree or shrub he is on, and depart so silently
and so near the ground that you neither see nor
hear him. The first intimation of his flight will
be his song afar off, when it will seem to you
that he is a phantom, a mere wandering voice.

The song of this bird defies description,
though it has inspired both extravagant and
poetical attempts in the most prosaic of writers.
When heard from a distance, it sounds very
deliberate: a succession of detached passages,
with frequent pauses, ending in a trill, some-
times easily distinguished as such, but often so
rapidly delivered that it resembles the syllable

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE. 17

" che-e-e " with a peculiar and indescribable
thrill in it. If you are near, however, you will
find the pauses filled with low notes, having,
apparently, no connection with the song. One
cannot but fancy them to be irrepressible words
of endearment, ineffably sweet and tender, and
wonderfully enhancing the charm of the per-
formance.

He is not chary of his gift. He sings at all
hours of the day, excepting in the heat of noon ;
but he seems most keenly to enjoy the fading
light of afternoon and the evening, till long
after dark. Not a little of the mystery and
melancholy that poetical minds find in his
music is due to the thoughtful twilight hours
in which it is heard. It is in itself far from
sadness. Indeed, there can be no more perfect
picture of deep joy than this beautiful bird,
standing tranquilly on his branch, while giving
slow utterance to notes that thrill your soul.

The weather is a matter of no moment to
the wood tlirush ; he has a soul above externals.
Other birds may be full of song, or moping on
their perches ; be it wet or dry, sunshine or
shade, he sings, and sings, and sings.

" Howsoe'er the world goes ill,
The thrushes still sing iu it"

The strongest attraction of a certain summer

2

18 THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

home in the heart of the Allegheny Mountains
is the song of this bird. Around the house
feathered visitors are always numerous, but no
wood thrush is ever seen. Late in the after-
noon, however, when other songsters are set-
tling themselves for the night, and, save the
robin chatter, no sound of bird is heard, out of
the deep woods which surround the small clear-
ing comes the stirring evening hymn of the
thrush. It begins with a clear, far-off prelude
of three notes on an ascending scale; then a
deliberate rest, followed by three other and
different notes, and ending in a rapturous trill.
After a decorous pause another takes up the
strain. There is no haste, no interruption,
never a clamor of song. Each one enjoys his
full length of time, and though there may be a
dozen singers within hearing, there is no con-
fusion. Each rich solo is a complete whole,
perfect as a pearl. To sit on a balcony of that
house through the long, tranquil hours of ap-
proaching night, listening to the grand and lofty
symphony, is a never-to-be-forgotten experi-
ence ; lifting the soul above the earth, into
regions of poetry and dreams.

The wood thrush is said to be so enamored
of solitude and deep woods that he may be
often heard, but seldom seen. This is simply
because few know how to look for him. He

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE. 19

does love the woods, but, being a remarkably
intelligent bird, he is not shy, and unreasoning
fright is unknown to him. He will let you ap-
proach quite near, fixing his soft, bright eyes
upon you without agitation, to learn whether
your object be peace or war. If you pause at
a respectful distance and remain quiet, he will
resume his song, undisturbed.

Then the position he selects is favorable to
concealment. The robin and oriole pour out
their melodies from the topmost twig or the
tallest tree, in plain sight of all the world, and
the cat-bird, while choosing the deepest seclu-
sion of a shrub, keeps so constantly in motion
that he cannot escape discovery. The thrush
does neither. He perches upon a branch, rarely
a twig. It is often the lowest branch of a tree,
and quite near to the trunk. In several years
of close study of the thrush, following the song
and watching many singers, I have but once
seen one sing at the top of a tree, though it is
true that my observations were usually in the
broad daylight ; for the evening song it is pos-
sible that he may select a higher position.

The secret of hiding, which his inconspicu-
ous coloring as well as his position aid, is his
habit of repose. He has no frivolous flirt of
the tail, like the cat-bird ; no jerking body, like
the robin ; no incessant twitter, like the hosts

20 THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

of smaller birds. It is his instinct, in moments
of excitement, to remain motionless and per-
fectly silent. If you do not look exactly at
him, you may almost put your hand upon him
before he stirs ; and even then he will glide
away almost as noiselessly as a snake.

The easiest way to discover the bird in his
open hiding-place is to take an opera-glass, and,
having placed him as nearly as possible by ear,
look carefully over every branch of the tree,
till you come upon him, often so near and so
plainly in sight that you are amazed at your
own blindness. Nevertheless, if you remove
the glass from your eye without having mi-
nutely noted his surroundings, you will not
easily find him again.

If then, keeping him in full view, you remain
quiet, he will accept your attitude as one of
peace, and pay no more attention to you, and
you may watch him as long as you choose ; lis-
tening to the little ripples of talk, the low, sigh-
ing " wee-o," not unlike the cat-bird's " mew,"
the rich " tut-tut," and the soft responses of his
mate, perhaps brooding over the lovely treasure
of the home in the dogwood - tree, perhaps
standing, as motionless and hard to see as her
Bpouse, on a neighboring branch.

You may chance thus to observe him after
the morning bath, in which he delights ; per-

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE. 21

forming his toilet, smoothing every perfect
phime, or sunning himself, puffed out like a
ball, with every feather on end. You may see
him, too, when suddenly his attention is ar-
rested by some movement or sound at the foot
of the tree, imperceptible to your coarser
senses ; and he dives off the branch, returning
instantly with a worm or grub, which he will
hold in his bill a long time, entirely undis-
turbed by its wriggles or struggles, till he
makes up his mind whether you mean mischief,
or have changed your position while he was en-
gaged.

Then, too, you may sometimes chance upon
a scene of agitation even in the serene life of a
thrush. Following an unfamiliar call far away
from the path, in a lonely spot, I came once
upon a singular sight : six or eight thrushes
hopping about in the lower branches of a small
tree, in a way very unusual with them, giving
unceasing utterance to the sound I had heard,
a low, shuddering cry, and all with eyes fixed
upon the ground. Every moment or two one
would fly away, but its place was instantly
filled by another, so that the number in the
tree remained the same, and the strange cry
was never still. Nestlings were all out, so I
knew that it could be no accident to a little one
that thus aroused them, and I stole quietly

22 THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

nearer through the tall weeds, where I found,
crouching in this ample shelter, the cause of
the excitement, — a cat, doubtless on breakfast
intent. On seeing me she ran, and every bird
followed, hovering over her wherever she placed
herself ; and as long as I stayed, that day, I
could tell the whereabouts of poor puss by the
tumult above her.

Because of its quiet tints, the beautiful plu-
mage of the wood thrush is often underrated.
Nothing can be more attractive than the soft
cinnamon browns of his back and wings, and the
satiny white of breast and under parts, tinged
in places with buff, and decorated profusely
with lance-shaped spots of brown.

Lovers of birds alive and free have reason to
rejoice that our most interesting birds are not
gaudy in coloring. The indiscriminate and ter-
rible slaughter of these beautiful creatures, to
appear in some horrible, unnatural position on
ladies' hats, is surely enough to make the most
long-suffering lover of nature cry out in grief
and pain. To me — let me say it frankly —
they look not like an adornment of feathers,
but hke the dead bodies of birds, foully mur-
dered to minister to a passing fashion.

There is one interesting peculiarity of color-
ing in the breast feathers of this bird. Snowy
white as they appear on the outside, they are

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE. 23

for three quarters of their length a dark slate
color, so that where the plumage is parted in
performing the toilet, it looks like black plush.
Closely examined, too, with a common magni-
fying-glass, every tiniest barb of the feather is
found to be ringed, dark slate and white, an ex-
quisitely beautiful object.

I know of no bird with more strongly marked
character than the wood thrush. First to be
noticed is his love of quiet. Not only does ho
prefer the solitary parts of the woods, but he
especially avoids the neighborhood of his social
cousin, the robin. The chattering, the constant
noise, the curiosity, the general fussiness, of
that garrulous bird are intolerable to his more
reposeful relative. He may be found living
harmoniously among many varieties of smaller
birds, and he even shows no dislike of the cat-
bird; but come into a robin haunt, and you
may look in vain for a wood thrush.

Then his gravity. When a thrush has noth-
ing to do, he does nothing. He scorns to amuse
himself with senseless chatter, or aimless flit-
ting from twig to twig. When he wants a
worm, he seeks a worm, and eats it leisurely ;
and then he stands quietly till he wants an-
other, or something else. Even in the nest the
baby thrush is dignified. No clamor comes
from this youngster when his parent approaches

24 THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

with food. On such occasions the young robin
calls vociferously, jerks himself about, flutters
his wings, and in every way shows the impa-
tience of his disposition. The young thrush
sits silent, quivering with expectation, while the
parent, slightly lifting the wings, pops the
sweet morsel into the waiting mouth ; but no
impatience and no cries.

There is, however, a time when the thrush is
somewhat noisy, — when the young are in dan-
ger. One day, while slowly walking through a
secluded path, in a piece of woods beloved of
thrushes, I came suddenly upon a young thrush,
almost under my hand. It was sitting in the
forks of a branch, three feet from the ground,
perfectly motionless, but watching me intently
I brought my hand down carefully, and just as
it was closing — softly, for fear of injury — the
little creature slipped out from under, and dis-
appeared in the bushes. The parents, as soon
as it escaped, began loud though not harsh
cries ; perhaps to distract my attention, per-
haps to direct or cheer the little one. I have
no doubt that the youngster was crouched in
plain sight not three feet from where I stood ;
but although I searched every inch of ground,
not a glimpse did I get of it, in spite of my as-
surance that it was near all the time.

The wood thrush is very decided in his taste

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE. 25

about his surroundings. He prefers woods
where no grass grows, since he never seeks his
worms in the sod, as does the robin. No lawn,
however tempting, is the scene of his labors.
In a certain park where I have frequently-
watched him, he is bold in looking for food;
coming within three feet of a person while
gathering the crumbs he has learned to expect
on the walks, and though keeping a watchful
eye upon one, not disturbed so long as the ob-
server is still. But when this variation upon
his usual fare is secured, he retires to a spot
more remote from park frequenters, to sing, and
in due time to establish his home.

He is one of the most intelligent of our birds,
and absolutely seems to reason. He plainly
does not take your motives for granted, but re-
serves his decision till he has studied you or has
seen some indication of your intentions. He
looks you squarely in the face, with perfect
calmness ; not turning his head on one side, and
never becoming uneasy under your most steady
gaze. He is graceful and elegant in movement
and refined in his manners, and every one who
has attentively observed birds will know that
these are genuine distinctions.

Then he is a paragon of good temper. One
cannot conceive of a thrush as ruffled with pas-
sion, quarreling with his neighbor, or driving

26 THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

a strange bird away. One cannot imagine a
harsh sound out of that " most musical " throat.
And aside from fancy, as a simple matter of
fact, I have never noticed the smallest sign of
temper or harshness. Even the cries of distress
have peculiar richness of tone.

Having for some years lovingly studied the
ways of this little creature, and wishing to ob-
serve him more closely, I desired to add a wood
thrush to the birds which fly about my house.
To this end I made a tour of the bird stores of
New York, and thus I learned, from disgusted
dealers, another interesting characteristic of the
high-spirited fellow. So fond is he of liberty
that he will not sing in confinement. His Euro-
pean cousin, the song thrush (or throstle of Eng-
land), unfortunately for his freedom, reconciles
himself more easily to captivity, and is to be
found in all shops. My answers were a disap-
pointing monotony : " The American thrush is
no good ; he will not sing," — an opinion, by the
way, in which these practical gentry differ from
Audubon, who is quoted as saying that they
sing nearly as well in confinement as when free.
This is hard to believe. The thrush's song
seems more than that of any other bird to em-
body the spirit of freedom, and to come from
an untroubled soul.

In my search, however, I chanced upon an-

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE. 27

other American thrush, the hermit thrush. He
also is not a regular bird-store product, being
neither gay-colored nor noisy. This individ-
ual was caught with an injured wing, and was
so little regarded in that motley collection of
screaming parrots and shrieking canaries that
the price put upon him was insultingly low.
To soften ray disappointment, I brought him
home, and a more interesting fellow I never
saw.

Upon opening the box in which he had made
the journey, he showed not the least alarm. He
sat calmly on the bottom and looked at me. In
a moment or two he hopped on to the edge
of the box, and then, seeing a perch conven-
iently near, he stepped upon that, and began
to straighten his feathers and put himself in
order.

He had been in captivity but two or three
days, yet he was never for an instant wild, and
was the most quiet bird in the house. He sel-
dom made a sound. Occasionally he uttered a
high, sharp " s-e-e-p," like an insect sound, with-
out opening the bill ; and that was all, until he
encountered the looking-glass.

Having kept him in a cage a few days, to
teach him that it was his home, I opened the
door, as I do with all my cages. He came out
at once, which birds rarely do, investigated my

28 THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE.

room without fear, alighting on my chair, tak-
ing worms from the hand, trying to make
friends with an English song thrush, twice his
size, — meeting, by the way, with no response,
— and finding his way back to his cage without
trouble, which again is unusual.

As with all birds, the.pincushion was a source
of interest to him, and I was interested to see
how differently from any other he treated the
obnoxious pinheads. He did not pounce upon
them, driving them farther in, as did the cat-
bird, but he seized each head in his bill, and
tried to jerk it out. This would have been
somewhat too successful, only that his efforts
were in a sidewise direction, and of course the
pins would not come. In a few days, however,
he learned how to manage them, when his great
pleasure was to pull them all out and throw
them on the floor, leaning over the edge of the
bureau to hear each one fall on the matting,
and then to go down himself, and pass each one
through his bill from head to point, exactly as
he did a meal-worm before swallowing it. The
stiffness of the pins discouraged him ; he never
tried to make a meal of them.

His experience with the looking-glass was
most melancholy, till I covered it up, in pity.

The instant he caught sight of himself, — of
his own reflection, rather, — he would drop his

THE BIRD OF SOLITUDE. 29

wings, raise head and tail, and in that curious
position strut around before the glass ; calling
softly, with the sweetest and most tender twit-
tering, though so low it could scarcely be heard.
After some time of this coaxing, he would be-
come disheartened, and stand motionless, with
feathers puffed out, staring at the bird in the
glass, and looking so grieved and unhappy that
I could not endure it, but drew a shield before
that misleading piece of furniture.

He never showed the least fear of me, and
grew more familiar every day. But I had him
only a month. One evening he was well and
lively as usual ; the next morning I found him
dead on the floor, to my great surprise and
grief.

A GENTLE SPIRIT.

" With what a clear
And ravishing sweetness sang the plaintive thrush !
I love to hear his delicate rich voice,
Chanting through all the gloomy day, when loud
Amid the trees is dropping the big rain,
And gray mists wrap the hills ; for aye the sweeter
His song is when the day is sad and dark."

Longfellow.

III.

A GENTLE SPIRIT.

Some months after my experience with the
hermit thrush, I had the good fortune to come
into possession of a wood thrush, and for nearly
half a year now have had him under constant
observation. I find in his ways nothing to con-
tradict what I have said of his wild relatives,
but something to add to that record.

My bird has a lovely gentleness of disposi-
tion, which has ample opportunity to show it-
self in a room with three or four companions.
Tranquillity is his delight, and for sweet peace
he will accept many discomforts. I know it is
genuine love of quiet, and not cowardice, be-
cause his conduct is the same with a tiny gold-
finch as with the birds of his own size.

Twice has the amiable fellow changed his
residence to please a neighbor. When he came
to me he had been frightened by confinement
in a box, and had beaten his tail feathers out
in his struggles, so that he looked very droll ;

34 A GENTLE SPIRIT.

but what was worse, be could not guide himself
well in flight. To facilitate his getting in and
out of his cage, I put up a light and dainty lad-
der, from the floor to his door. This pleased
him greatly, and he used it constantly.

After the thrush bad become perfectly at
home, I added to the family a new bird, some-
what larger than himself — a Mexican thrush.
Upon opening the door of the stranger's cage,
and inducing him to come out and get ac-
quainted with us (which I did with some diffi-
culty and much coaxing), I discovered that he,
too, had suffered at the hands of men. He had
lost two or three feathers from his wing, so that
while not in the least disfigured, he found it
hard to get about. He almost immediately
learned to make use of the thrush's doorsteps,
and after a day or two made up his mind to
live in a house so convenient to reach, and
quietly took possession. Once or twice the
rightful owner approached the door, but seeing
his place occupied calmly retired to the usur-
per's cage, and contentedly remained there,
showing neither anger nor sulkiness. Of
course I attended to his comfort, and provided
a second ladder for his use, hoping that the
Mexican would return to his own quarters.
But he was satisfied where he was, and dis-
dained to touch the new ladder.

A GENTLE SPIRIT. 35

The wood thrush was well settled and at
home in the Mexican's cage, when a mocking-
bird came to live in the room. Strange to say,
no sooner did the latter bird gain the freedom
of the place than he coolly made choice of the
thrush's second home for his own. The gentle
bird was not disturbed ; seeing how matters
stood with his new neighbor he quickly recon-
ciled himself to the mocking-bird's discarded
residence and was happy as ever. Now, after
many weeks, the mocking-bird will occupy
sometimes one, sometimes the other of the two
cages (which stand side by side), but the thrush
is always perfectly contented to accept either,
and make himself at home wherever he finds
an empty cage.

I might think this cowardice — as I said —
but for his treatment of a little English gold-
finch, who is as saucy in this company of birds
five or six times as large as himself as though
his neighbors were of his own size. He does
not hesitate to alight beside the thrush, stand-
ing motionless in thrush fashion, on top of his
own cage. This conduct is not agreeable to
the proprietor ; he turns and looks at the puny
intruder, and then starts towards him, as a gen-
tle hint that his company is not desired in that
spot. The small bird not only refuses to move,
but actually begins to scold. The thrush draws

36 A GENTLE SPIRIT.

nearer and nearer, the goldfinch scolds louder
and louder, shaking his wings and swelling him-
self to look as formidable as possible to one of
his few inches. I have seen them stand ten
minutes, not three inches apart, the smaller bird
scolding, chattering, and even uttering snatches
of song, while the thrush simply gazes at him,
with crown feathers erect, and feet well apart
in attitude of " going for him." Words could
not be plainer than his manner, which says,
" How that little rascal can have the imperti-
nence to defy me on my own ground, I cannot
understand ; " and, as though it were a puzzle
he determined to solve, he will stand and stare,
looking at his small foe from head to foot, even
touching his bill with his own in an experimen-
tal sort of way, while the goldfinch, slightly
puffed out, ready for flight if the enemy be-
comes threatening, twitters and scolds, and
sings a little now and then.

There is one thing in which the thrush shows
a little selfishness. Apple is his greatest treat.
He gets it in small slices on the floor, and he
cannot endure to see one in the possession of
another bird. No matter how fresh may be his
own, to see a bit given to a neighbor arouses
the only passion I have seen in him. Instantly
he abandons the piece he has, and starts for the
other, running so rapidly across the floor that

A GENTLE SPIRIT. 37

he is unable to stop, but slides past the spot, on
the matting. The Mexican successfully resists
his attempt to possess himself of the new piece;
the mocking-bird at first quailed before so furi-
ous an onslaught, but later learned to protect
his own property, although for a few days the
thrush would retain possession of three pieces
in three parts of the room, by driving away the
mocking-bird from each in turn. In every
other thing, even meat, of which he is exceed-
ingly fond, he is willing to share.

When I enter the bird-room with a piece of
fresh beef in one hand, and the scissors (with
which I cut it into tiny strips like a meal-
worm) in the other, the thrush will fly to my
hand, alight beside the meat, and stand there
while I feed all three in succession. If the
Mexican is at liberty I have trouble, for he is
both greedy and savage. He tries to snatch,
fiercely pecks my hand if I give to another
what he wants himself, and lastly flings himself
upon the bird he chooses to consider his rival.
Since he is the largest and strongest in the
room, all fly before him. Consequently I dis-
tribute the meat while he is still behind the
bars of the cage.

In another way the thrush shows that he is
not a coward. He goes down into the waste-
basket, and of all the birds I have kept, he

38 A GENTLE SPIRIT.

is the only one who has dared to do that. Here-
tofore that receptacle has been a safe place
for anything denied to birds. No matter how
tempting the article, I knew that in the waste-
basket, away from the outside, it would not be
touched. But all that is past : the thrush
calmly drops into the mass of papers and rub-
bish which usually half fills the basket, and
seeks the bit of apple or bread, or whatever has
pleased his fancy from the edge, and even turns
over the contents in search of treasures.

Gentle, amiable, and friendly as is my thrush,
spending much time on the back of my chair,
my desk, my shoulder and even my hand, he
does not like to be taken in the hands, as in-
deed no bird does. Once or twice it has become
necessary for me to do so, and on such occasions
he expresses his mind plainl}^ The first time
I caught him, he had stayed out too long, and
as it was growing dark he could not get home.
I quietly walked up to him where he stood on
the window, and before he suspected my in-
tention closed my hands over him. He was not
frightened, but indignant, and at once turned
his bill towards me, and reproached me for the
liberty in a few emphatic remarks — a modifi-
cation of his usual liquid " Chook, chook,
chook," into " Chack, chack, chack."

This interesting bird has never given me a

A GENTLE SPIRIT. 39

note of his wild song in the cage (perhaps be-
cause it is winter) but he sometimes adds his
voice to the chorus in the room, in a low
whispered twittering, very sweet, but very
unsatisfactory. The most unexpected sound
he makes is a sort of low squeal — I can call
it nothing else — over something he very much
likes, as a bit of apple or meat. He clatters
his bill, as other thrushes, when startled or
annoyed. He was very intelligent in learning
his name, and is the only bird in the room now
who will come when called.

There is a curious circumstance about the
spots on his breast. They seem scattered with-
out any attempt at regularity all over the lower
parts as far back as his legs, a little less thickly
perhaps in the middle, but at night, when he
is puffed out into a ball, the spots form three
regular, unbroken lines on each side, meeting
under the chin, and sweeping away to right and
left in graceful curves. Looking at him from
the front, he bears no little resemblance to the
prow of a broad ship, with three well defined
brown lines down each side, and perfectly white
in every other part.

Among the many unknown habits of the
thrush is one in which I feel a peculiar interest.
It is this : what mysteries do wild thrushes per-
form at early morning, with the first streaks of

40 A GENTLE SPIRIT.

light, to make them so uneasy, so restless at
that time in a cage ? No matter how amiable,
how happy, how tame a thrush may be, in that
mystic hour he is a contented pet no longer ; he
is a wild, unsatisfied being, full of longings and
emotions he cannot express — at least to you.
In that moment one must realize that he cannot
tame the soul ; he may confine the body, but the
wild, free spirit looks out through the eyes even
of a wood thrush.

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

And still when winter spreads around

The chilly covering of the snow,
And woods in dreary silence bound,
No more with sounds of joy o'erflow,
Beside my hearth I sit and hear
The same sweet music ringing clear,
And summer-time within I know.

Caldwell

IV.

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

When the " autumnal gale moans sadly "
through the gi'oves, stripping the leafy shelter
from their homes and scattering the feathered
folk abroad, the lover of bird-life must look in-
doors, must study the inhabitants of sunny
rooms where summer prevails the year around,
and only the four walls confine.

All winter under these favorable conditions
I have studied a song thrush or throstle of Eng-
land, and although in some respects not so at-
tractive in disposition as the American wood
thrush, he is still a most interesting bird. It
is well known, in this day, that among birds as
among people character differs in individuals;
I do not claim to have studied the song thrush,
but simply one song thrush, a captive in my
room.

The most noticeable characteristic of my bird
is his timidity. He is afraid of the dark, or
perhaps I should say of the half-dark. When

44 A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

evening approaches, even — in winter — so
early as four o'clock, he begins to throw un-
easy glances around the room, and peer anx-
iously into the shaded corners as though in
search of some terrible bugaboo. Should it
chance to be cloudy and dark even at noonday,
he will display great nervousness, starting at
the slightest sound, and stretching his neck to
look in every obscure place with an air so mys-
terious that one cannot but turn to see if there
be really nothing there. Many birds show
dread of the shadowy corners of a room, but
none that I have seen is so sensitive as the song
thrush. For this reason, at four P. M. his door
is closed for the night, and a little later, as the
darkness grows, begins a curious performance,
apparently an attempt to try all possible ways
of going over and under and around his five
perches. He will first descend to the floor by
means of three perches like a flight of steps,
run madly across the cage and spring to the
upper perch from the outside, where there is
hardly room next to the wires, then jump ex-
citedly back and forth on the two upper perches,
down the steps again and up the other side,
sometimes omitting the middle perch alto-
gether, as a boy likes to pass over every alter-
nate step in hastening down stairs, and this
exercise varied in every imaginable way for an

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY. 45

hour at a time. The same thing occurs in the
dim light of early morning, with so much vio-
lence and noise that I am obliged to remove his
cage to a dark room where daylight comes only
when the door is opened.

The timidity of this bird is shown also in his
manner of examining a strange object. If on
the floor, he will hop around it at a respectful
distance, viewing it from every side. For a
long time he will not approach, and when he
does, it is with the greatest caution, prepared
for instant flight if it develops unexpected hos-
tility. I once threw on the floor a small ball of
yarn with the end unwound about four inches
and fastened in that position. The thrush is
exceedingly fond of a string, and this one was
attractive. He hopped around it with interest,
gradually drew nearer, and after some time ven-
tured to take hold of it. He was evidently not
yet satisfied about the nature of the ball, and
intended to drag the string away from the sus-
picious neighborhood. Accordingl}^ he gave it
a jerk, when to his horror the ball bounded to-
wards him. The suddenness with which be
dropped it and disappeared in the furthest cor-
ner under the bed was laughable. In spite of
this experience, the string was irresistible, and
in a few moments he returned. Again and
again he tried to secure it, and again and again

46 A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

he was panic-stricken at the conduct of the ball.
Besides this, he is easily intimidated by other
birds. The cat-bird was his terror. He would
gaze on that mischievous fellow in some of his
pranks, standing very straight up on his long
legs with crown feathers erect, the picture of
horror; while his two small feet, side by side,
opposed to the bold stride of the cat-bird made
him look like an innocent child in the presence
of an impish elf. After the cat-bird's depart-
ure (I opened the window for him in the spring,
when he grew restless and unhappy), the hermit
thrush, half his size, could drive him anywhere
about the room, and a red-wing blackbird is a
nightmare to him, though that he is to all the
birds.

So timid is this thrush that he was with great
difficulty induced to leave his cage at all. He
had to be starved to it, with food and water
outside, and no bath till he would come out and
take it. Two weeks passed before he would go
in and out freely, and even now, after months
of freedom, the slightest alarm sends him like a
shot into his cage, where he instantly mounts
the highest perch, and manifests intense excite-
ment for some time.

The real bugaboo of my thrush's life, for
which I always imagine he is searching the
dusky corners, is a doll. Strange to say, this

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY. 47

joy of babyhood is an absolute terror to him, as
I discovered quite by accident. While engaged
in dressing one for a little friend, I observed
that the bird was uneasy, and did not come near
me as usual, but did not suspect the cause till he
flew up to my desk, as was his constant habit,
to receive his bit of bread from my hands. The
doll was lying there, and the instant he saw it
(before his feet had touched the desk), he flew
violently away, uttering his loudest " Chook !
chook ! chook ! " and took refuge in his cage,
where he stood, flirting wings and tail in great
excitement for ten minutes or more. I could
not believe the doll had occasioned the panic,
so when he had become quiet, I lifted it up and
turned it towards him, ten or twelve feet away.
He at once began jumping back and forth with
the same agitation, and after further tests I was
forced to conclude that he did not admire a doll.

Wishing to see how the bird would receive
an animal, I placed on the floor a candy box,
which was a very good imitation of an alliga-
tor a foot long. But I was not gratified by any
display of interest or fear. He simply gave it
the widest berth which the room would admit,
and absolutely refused to " interview " the
young monster.

Timid though he be, the thrush is inquisitive.
He examines everything with close attention,

48 A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

and the waste-basket is a source of as much in-
terest to him as it was to the cat-bird, though
he does not regard it in the same light. To the
cat-bird it was a deep well containing treasures
he longed to possess ; to this bird it is a cage
between whose bars he can pull its varied con-
tents. He w^alks around it on the floor, inserts
his bill and drags through the openings what-
ever he is able, pulling and tugging at them
with all his might. After an absence of an hour
or two from the room, I often find my waste-
basket adorned with buttresses of paper, cloth,
and other materials standing out on every side.
Another marked characteristic of my bird is
his aversion to change. He is preeminently a
creature of habit, and impatient of variations
upon the established order of things. He has
an exact knowledge of the arrangement of my
room, and expresses the strongest disapproval
of innovations. If I assume an apron or a
shawl, he will not come near me ; a pillow left
at the foot of the bed disturbed him for an
hour ; the corner of a rug turned up gives him
pain ; a stiff leather string that fell with end
sticking up instead of lying flat in the manner
of strings annoyed him beyond expression ;
and he absolutely declined to change his lodg.
ings, though I offered him a larger and better
cage. Having taught him to come out of and

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY. 49

go into his cage when on the floor, he refused
to fly up to it, though not more than one foot
higher. I had to accustom him gradually, in
this way : the first day or two I placed the
cage upon one book; he hesitated, delayed,
stayed out for hours, till hunger forced him to
venture the little hop that reached the perch
running out from his door. When used to that
height, I inserted two books, and he repeated
the performance. Thus gradually, and in the
course of weeks, I induced him to fly as high
as a common table to reach his door, but to this
day he will starve before he will enter his cage
when standing on top of a low bookcase,
though he will fly to the top of it, or to the
cornices over the windows, with ease. Also he
never enters his door except from the right
side ; however it is placed, or wherever he may
be when he starts for home, from the right
alone will he go in. When in haste, he can fly
across the room and into his door unerringly ;
but if at leisure, he describes a circle around
the cage or the table it is on, approaches the
door on the proper side, flies to the perch, and
runs in.

The most amusing manifestation of my
thrush's disapproval of change was his recep-
tion of a picture I pinned upon the wall. It
was a highly-colored chromo about a foot

60 A WINTER BTRD-STUDY.

square. He went to it at once, standing on the
floor and observing it with all a critic's airs,
throwing back his head, turning it one side and
the other, hopping back and forth before it,
never removing his eyes, and expressing his
opinion in the liveliest manner by a high-
pitched insect-like " S-e-e-p," and a contemp-
tuous flirt of the tail. For days these actions
were repeated, until he became accustomed to
it, and accepted it as a feature of the room.

This bird is remarkably intelligent. He
learned to respond to his name more quickly
than any of his fellows. He is wonderfully
quick to suspect my intentions regarding worms
or meat. The sight of the worm-cup brings
him from his cage instantly, and since I have
been feeding him raw beef instead, I cannot
touch the scissors, with which I usually cut it
into bits, without bringing him upon me fero-
ciously hungry for his breakfast.

Finding that the thrush persisted in scatter-
ing his food when in open dishes, I removed
them, and substituted some of a different style,
from which he could not waste so much. He
did not approve the change, but learned after a
time to endure it, and I supposed he had for-
gotten all about it ; but when I brought the old
cups out for the use of a new bird, he recog-
nized them at once. The cage was on the floor,

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY. 61

and he hopped around it, excited, even furious,
to see his property in the possession of another.
He put his bill between the wires — though the
tenant was the dreaded blackbird — and pulled
and pushed and jerked, and in every way
tried to get the dishes out ; and when at last
the enemy left the cage for a bath, he rushed
in, flew to these cups, and scattered seed and
water far and wide. He was in a terrible rage.

The looking-glass — heart-breaking to many
birds — does not trouble the thrush. If he
chances to alight where he catches sight of his
own reflection, he utters a quiet *' chook " or
two, and stands a few minutes looking earnestly
at the room " through the looking-glass," mani-
festing surprise, but no particular pain.

Introducing a new bird to the room is almost
certain to arouse jealousy in the older residents.
The thrush suffers from this feeling, though he
never mopes or grieves over it, as do many
birds; he is angry. If I feed the blackbird
from the same hand that feeds him, he will
give the offending member a violent peck, by
way of reproof ; when I offer hemp-seed to a
seed-eater, the thrush instantly a})pears on the
scene and greedily devours every seed he can
secure, though he never touched them before,
and swallows them now without shelling ; and
when he shows rage at my giving the black-

52 A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

bird seed one at a time from my fingers, I offer
him the cup to shame his greediness, but, noth-
ing daunted, he attempts to choke down every
one, till I take it away lest he hurt himself.
Jealousy bad, however, one unusual and pleas-
ing effect on my bird ; it made him suddenly
tame. For the first time he alighted on my
knee as I sat down with his meat in my hand.
Finding himself comfortable, and not disturbed
or annoyed by my presuming upon his confi-
dence, he stayed a long time ; next he perched
on my shoulder, then my head, and, in fact, be-
fore six days were over he was almost trouble-
some in his familiarity. He would stand mo-
tionless an hour at a time on my knee or arm,
watching the movements of my pen, taking an
occasional lunch of bread from my fingers or
lips, and apparently not in the least alarmed.

But familiarities must be all on the thrush's
side. Should I attempt to bring my hand near
him, except with an offering, or to touch even
one toe, lie will either fly away or show fight.
He rapidly advanced from this attitude towards
me to friendly relations with all the family,
even a youth who likes to tease him, and to
whom he always presents an open bill. When
I lie down he stands like a guardian spirit on
my arm or shoulder, or on the head-board of
the bed, with the untiring patience of his race /

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY. 53

and when I write, he is half the time perched
on the top of my writing tablet, sometimes so
closely that I have to pull from under his feet
each sheet as I use it. When I hold his meat,
he snatches at the piece, tries to draw it away
from me, and seizes every bit from the scissors
as I cut it.

This thrush, being a ground bird, is fond of
the floor. His favorite place is under the rock-
ing-chair in which I sit, where he spends the
greater part of the time between his frequent
meals. At first I dared not move for fear of
hurting him, but finding that he was never off
his guard, I have gradually become perfectly in-
different as to his whereabouts, and rock and
move as I choose. Under the bed is another
chosen retreat.

The number and variety of attitudes a bird
will assume are extremely interesting to ob-
serve. Every emotion is plainly expressed, not
by the face as in the human family, but by the
whole body. Feeling mere curiosity and inter-
est in anything, he stands up perfectly erect
with tail nearly touching the ground, a most
beautiful attitude for a thrush. In surprise the
feathers on top of his head gradually rise, and
with the light circle defining his eye he looks
as though transfixed with horror. I have
spoken of the expression of legs ; it is aston-

6^ A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

isliing, when one really notices them, to see
how much is expressed by different positions
of those members. The thrush, standing with
feet side by side, looks the picture of innocence ;
the cat-bird, with his wide apart, one a little in
advance of the other, is the personification of
mischief ; the blackbird, with one foot on a
perch, and the other grasping the side of the
cage six inches above, resembles terror almost
amounting to panic, prepared to flee whichever
way seems least dangerous.

Like many birds, the thrush expresses anger
by lowering his head, making his body a hori-
zontal object exactly the shape of an egg, with
bill at one end and tail at the other ; war is de-
clared by a crouching position, in which he
looks ready to spring.

The thrush's sun-bath is the drollest I have
seen. Not only does he raise every feather on
end and puff himself out three times his nat-
ural size, and round as a ball, but he leans over
on one side to present the lower parts to the
sunlight, slightly raises the wing on the upper
side, droops his head, opens his mouth, and
often closes his eyes. This looks like the last
agony, but is supreme delight. Often during
summer he may be seen on the floor in some
spot where the sun falls, in this ludicrous posi-
tion ; but in winter he indulges in no such va-

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY. 55

garies ; however warm the room, and however
brightly the sun may shine, he keeps his plum-
age well down on his body.

Excitement and indignation are well and
completely expressed by this bird, with wings
and tail ; the former emotion by short, sharp,
upward jerks of the tail ; the latter by equally
energetic movements of both wings and tail.
By jerk of the wings I mean lifting them
slightly and bringing them down suddenly.
His meaning is as plain as though he spoke.

The gait of the thrush is usually a hop ;
long hops from two to three feet in extent when
in haste, and short ones on ordinary occasions.
If feeling particularly well he will give an ex-
aggerated little hop w^hen wishing to move one
inch forward, which is very pretty and grace-
ful to see. When he carries a burden he walks
or runs, holding his head well forward. If he
succeeds in abstracting a thread from my waste-
basket, he runs off with it in a most comical
way.

The sounds my bird gives utterance to have
no great variety ; the above mentioned " s-e-e-p,''
like an insect noise, with closed bill, when
greatly pleased, as during the bath ; also when
troubled, as by a piece of food too large to
swallow ; a louder, rich-toned " Chook I chook !
chook ! " when much excited and impatient ;

66 A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

and a sharp snap of the bill when on the war-
path, which, repeated rapidly, resembles the
rattle of castanets. His song is sweet, but very-
low, never uttered except when others are sing-
ing, and then so softly it can scarcely be heard.
There is as great difference between singers in
the feathered race as in our own ; not all of us
can be Campaninis.

In eating, this thrush is almost omnivorous.
His usual fare — mocking-bird food — he con-
stantly varies with bread, of which he is ex-
tremely fond, and which I am obliged to furnish
of the exact quality he likes ; he will not touch
biscuit or cracker ; the bread must be fresh and
soft, in pieces not too small. If he does not ap-
prove of the morsel offered, he takes it, and im-
mediately lets it fall. A large piece he breaks
up by literally " wiping the floor " with it, hold-
ing it in his bill and rubbing first one side and
then the other on the matting, till it crumbles
and he can swallow it. In the same way he
treats worms, fruit, and everything he chooses
to eat. His taste is catholic in the extreme ;
not only does he like the above viands, but
strings, threads, and little rolls of dust brought
out from under furniture. He likes all fruits,
especially grapes. After having supplied the
place of meal-worms with bits of fresh beef a
few times, he adopted the new food eagerly, re-

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY. 57

fused the woi-ms, and was wild for the meat,
which he will eat ravenously, till his crop stands
out, and he really cannot swallow another mor-
sel.

This bird's passion for strings is troublesome,
since they always mat into a lump and must be
thrown up ; but worst of all is a fatal propen-
sity for eating the hairs which, in spite of utmost
care, he will now and then pick up on the floor.
The first trouble is to get them down. He Avill
swallow one end, and then be nearly mad with
annoyance from the piece left hanging, shak-
ing his head, rubbing his bill, and becoming
greatly excited, but the notion of giving up the
object never occurs to him. If it hangs down
several inches I can often secure the end in
my fingers, when a struggle at once ensues, he
holding on to his end, and I to mine, till I win,
which I always do, of course. On one occasion
he swallowed the two ends of a hair, leaving a
loop around his lower bill. It seemed as if he
would be crazy, but I could not help him with-
out catching him, which I never do unless im-
portant, for I don't wish my birds to associate
any unpleasant experience with me. After lie
has collected in his internal reservoir as many
threads, strings, hairs and so forth as he can
hold, there comes a time when he mopes on his
perch, sometimes for a day, unable to eat, hun-

68 A WINTER BIRD-STUDY.

gry yefc full, fighting the inclination to disgorge,
which, however, at last overpowers him, the
lump as big as the end of one's little finger
comes up, and he falls to his food with eager-
ness.

The thrush always has a serious time when
he finds a string hanging, which he can reach
yet not draw out. The tugs and jerks, the
bracing of his firm little legs, and pulls that
take him off his feet, are amusing to see, while
bis persistence is amazing. He will work a
whole day on a large piece of twine which hangs
within his reach, trying to pull it down, or to
untwist the end so that he can eat it. Fringe
of all sorts is too attractive to resist. He made
a funny figure of himself one day when a towel
was left hanging on the back of a chair. The
fringe was a foot from the floor, and the bird
would spring up to it, seize several threads in
his bill, and attempt to carry them off. They
would not come, and there he would hang, beat-
ing the air with both wings, and wildly grasp-
ing at nothing with both feet, swinging back
and forth as he did so. In a moment he would
drop to the floor exhausted, but very soon re-
turn to the charge, seizing, and swinging, and
clawing as before. It was a laughable sight.

Now, as I write, the thrush stands on the
desk before me looking with deepest interest at

A WINTER BIRD-STUDY. 59

my movements. His body is erect, his wings
slightly drooped, and as he stands there motion-
less, with dark, earnest eyes fixed upon me, I
cannot doubt his intelligence, nor that he has
his own well-defined opinions about me. He
seems at this moment to be gravely pondering
the mysterious differences between us two, so
friendly yet so far apart, so loving yet so un-
like.

m THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK.

' Alas, dear friend, that, all my days,
Has poured from that syringa thicket

The quaintly discontinuous lays
To which I hold a season-ticket, —

A season-ticket cheaply bought

With a dessert of pilfered berries, —

And who so oft my soul has caught
With morn and evening voluntaries.'*

Lowell.

V.

IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK.

In a secluded nook in a certain park many-
hours of last summer were passed in the ab-
sorbing study of the manners of the cat-bird.

So well hidden was that delightful spot, so
narrow and rough the gate, and so attractive
the shaded walk leading away from it, that it
might have remained a secret to this day, un-
known save to the birds and the squirrels ; but
a friendly cat-bird in a moment of confidence
led me behind the veil of thick shrubs which
screened it from intrusive visitors. I marked
well the entrance, and day after da}^ returned,
at all hours, to study his ways in his chosen
home. Each day's knowledge increased my re-
spect and liking, no less than my surprise and
indignation at the prejudice against him.

The morning our acquaintance began I had
been ^vatching his movements as he 'flitted
about, now running mndly across the walk, as
though a legion of enemies were after him, now

64 IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK.

pausing on the edge to see what I would do
next, then retiring to a short distance under
the trees, and having a lively frolic with last
year's leaves, digging into them with great
spirit, and throwing them far over his head.
Suddenly he rose on wing, and flew, with tail
wide spread, across the walk into an althea
bush, where he disappeared.

I was about to pass on, when, fancying I
heard a faint twittering in the shrub, I ap-
proached quietly till near enough to put my
hand on him, before T saw him. There he sat
on a branch about as high as my head, looking
at me very sharply with his intelligent black
eyes, but not in the least agitated. I stood
still, and he went on wdth his song. It was a
most extraordinary performance. The sweet-
est solo given with every trill and turn the bird
can execute, with swelling throat and jerking
tail, yet not a note louder than a whisper ! I
had to listen to catch the sound, although I
could touch him where I stood. It was a genu-
ine soliloquy. When he had finished he flew
out the other side of the bush, and pushing my
way between the althea and a close-growing
wigelia, I found myself in his nook, a charm-
ing sunny spot, running down to the lake.

Though burdened with an undeserved and
offensive name, and having somehow become

IN THE CAT- BIRD'S NOOK. 65

an object of suspicion and dislike to many per-
sons, the cat-bird — Mimus carolineyisis — is one
of the most intelligent and interesting of our
native birds. No bird makes closer observa-
tion, or more correctly estimates one's attitude
toward him. As I sit motionless in his nook
he will circle around me, hopping from bush to
bush, at a distance of ten or twelve feet, look-
ing at me from every side, and at last slip be-
hind a low shrub, and come out boldly upon
the grass with an unconcerned air, entirely dif-
ferent from that with which he had kept me
under surveillance for the last ten minutes.

The cat-bird has an inquiring mind ; nothing
escapes his eye, and everything is of interest to
him. Far from being satisfied to accept an}^-
thing as " mysterious," he wishes and intends
to know the why and the wherefore of every-
thing new or strange. After one has gained
his confidence, to induce him to show himself
on the grass it is only necessary to place there
something new — a bit of paper, a small fruit,
or anything unusual. From behind his screen
of leaves he sees it, is at once seized with in-
tense curiosity, and if not afraid he will almost
instantly come down to inspect it. This he
does by trjnng to stab it with his sharp black
bill, jumping off the ground and pouncing on
it, when it liaj^pens to be hard, till one fears he

66 IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK.

will break his bill. A bit of apple treated by
him is full of minute stabs or gashes like dag-
ger thrusts. His manner, however, is not one
of vulgar curiosity, but always of philosophical
inquiry into the nature of substances, and his
look is as grave and thoughtful as though he
were studying some of the problems of human
or bird life.

He has also a sense of humor. I had the for-
tune to see from my own window in the city an
amusing exhibition of this quality. Hearing
the sweet song of a cat-bird, I seized an opera-
glass and looked over the neighboring yards till
I found him perched on the roof of a pigeon-
house, singing with great energy. Several
pigeons were also on the roof, and seemed
interested in the stranger entertaining them,
stupidly — in pigeon fashion — walking about
and looking at him, turning their heads from
side to side in their mincing way. Suddenly,
in the middle of a burst of song, the minstrel
darted like a flash among them (evidently for
pure fun, for he did not touch one of them) and
returned instantly to his song. Wild panic,
however, seized the pigeons, and although he
was a mere atom among them, they flew every
way, and would have shrieked with terror had
they been able.

Then the sparrows began to observe him.

IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK. 67

They gathered near, in a cherry-tree and a lilac
bush, chattering and scolding, and plainly ques-
tioning the right of the stranger to intrude
upon their grounds. After a while one of them
flew rapidly past the apparently unconcerned
cat-bird, who interpolated one scolding note,
without pausing in his song. This insult not
being resented, the sparrow grew bolder, re-
turned, and alighted on the roof near him.
Wishing to finish his song, the cat-bird merely
scolded a little, and put himself in a threaten-
ing attitude, when the sparrow considered it
prudent to retire. For a few minutes there
was great chattering in the cherry-tree, and
the birds, having made up their minds that he
could do nothing but scold, plainly resolved to
mob him in true sparrow fashion. One led the
way by flying down to the roof about two feet
from the cat-bird, all bristled up ready for fight.
This was too much ; the song ceased, and with
a fearful war-cry the singer fairly flung himself
after that sparrow, who disappeared in a panic,
and the whole party of mobbers with him.
They very evidently appreciated their mistake,
and saw that the stranger was willing as well
as able to take care of himself, for neither spar-
row nor pigeon came near him again, and when
he returned to his perch, light as a feather and
unruffled as a summer morning, he finished his

68 IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK.

song at his leisure, and had the roof to himself
as long as he chose to stay.

No bird is more graceful than the cat-bird,
and in spite of his sober dress of slate-color and
black, none is more beautiful. His plumage
may be grave of hue, but it is like satin in
sheen and texture, and always in the most per-
fect order, for he takes the daintiest care of
himself. To see him make his toilet for the
night is well worth staying late and eating a
cold dinner. For an hour without ceasing will
he plume himself, carefully dressing each feather
many times over, combing his head with his
claws again and again, and shaking with vio-
lent effort every atom of the day's dust from
him. Then when all is arranged to his mind,
and every feather in place, he fluffs himself out
into a ball, draws one slate-colored foot up out
of sight into its feather pillow, and is ready to
say good-night and enjoy his repose.

Another sight, for which one must lose his
breakfast — though it will be well exchanged
— is his bath. The cat-bird loves water, and
he plunges in, fluttering and spattering in a
way to delight the soul of a "hydromaniac,"
wings and tail and head all hard at work,
sprinkling everything for yards around, till
when he steps out he looks like an animated
rag-bag, and the long, careful toilet of the even-
ing is repeated.

IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK. 69

But the rarest of all is to see him take a sun-
bath, and one is fortunate indeed to catch sight
of him and not disturb him in his luxurious en-
joyment. Each particular feather stands on
end, even to the small ones of his crown, till he
looks twice his usual size, and like a clumsy-
imitation of a bird made of feathers stuck
loosely into a ball. More than this, he leans
far over on one side, and lifts his wing so that
the sunshine may penetrate to every part, while
his mouth is half open and his eyes are closed
in ecstasy. He is a strange-looking object ; one
would think him in great distress rather than
enjoying a sunning.

It is interesting to watch the various atti-
tudes this bird assumes. He even seems to
change shape. Now he stretches up very tall,
with neck lengthened and tail standing at an
angle of forty-five degrees ; again he crouches
in a heap, and swells out till he resembles an
exaggerated wren ; something attracts his at-
tention, and he leans forward with head and
tail on a level with his body, and legs closely
curled under him, till he looks from the front
like a snake; a thought of mischief seizes him,
and he drops his tail over on one side, lowers
his head, spreads far apart his sturdy legs, and
the looker-on may be sure that in a moment he
will dart off to frighten away another bird, oi
play some lively prank.

70 IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK.

No words can express contempt or a slirug of
the shoulder better than a certain upward, side-
ways jerk of the tail and saucy twitch of the
body which he will give to signify his opinion
of the song of some other bird ; wide-awake
interest is never more clearly displayed than by
the jerks of body and rustling switches of the
tail with which he contemplates a strange sight.
He is alive to the tips of his toes, every move-
ment is so alert, so unexpected ; he will start off
as if intending to fly a mile, and bring up on
the next twig, a foot away ; standing quietly on
a branch as though settled for life, suddenly,
like a flash, he will slip ofl the other side, and
dive after a berry or a worm his sharp eyes
have seen.

I had a great desire to find a nest, so when I
saw a cat-bird go several times in one direction,
worm in mouth, I watched closely. The bird
hopped all around the bush, eying me sharply,
and at last jumped upon the lowest branch,
gave me one last glance, slipped to the ground
on the other side, and returned in a moment
without the worm.

'' Now," I said, exultingly — " now I have
you!"

Carefully I crept up and parted the branches,
while the disturbed bird liopped from twig to
twig, saying ''Quit! quit!" I looked in,

IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK. 71

confidently expecting to see the low nest I
knew so well. No nest was there. Then I
searched the neighbormg shrubs, and even the
grass around, but no sign of his home could I
find, while the bird, who had watched and fol-
lowed me, plainly chuckled in a way that said,
" Humph ! you missed it, didn't you ? " and I
firmly believe that the saucy fellow ate the
worm himself, and went through all that pre-
tense of mystery to mislead me and rebuke my
prying curiosity.

The singing of the cat-bird is as character-
istic as anything else about him. No song of
his ever comes from the top of a tall tree, where
the robin delights to pour out his inspiring
notes, but out of the deepest shade of the thick-
est shrub his music salutes the ear. It is the
most charming of songs, exquisite in quality,
and of compass and variety. His common chirp
as he goes about in the bushes is soft as rain-
drops plashing into a quiet lake, and his low
chatter to his friends has the same liquid char-
acter. But he has harsher tones ; he has a
sharp " tut, tut," like the robin, and he has the
cry from which he is named, which at a little
distance somewhat resembles the " mew " of a
melancholy cat, but closer sounds more like the
cry of a young baby. Then, also, when his anger
is roused, and he flies furiously almost in one's

72 IN THE CAT-BIRD'S NOOK.

face, he gives utterance to a harsh, grating
?ound that one finds it hard to believe can come
out of his mouth, like " Crack-rack-rack." In
fact, I do not know a bird possessing a greater
variety of notes.

When a cat-bird stands up three feet from
you, not in the least flustered or disturbed,
calmly looking you full in the face with both
his bright black eyes, not turning his head from
side to side in the way common to birds, you
recognize in him something like intelligence
and reason, and you cannot resist the convic-
tion that he has his opinions, and could express
them if only you could understand his lan-
guage. ^

THE " TRICKS AND MANNERS " OF
A CAT-BIRD.

" The birds around me hopped and played :
Their thoughts I cannot measure ; —
But the least motion which they made,
It seemed a thrill of pleasure."

Wordsworth.

VI.

THE « TRICKS AND MANNERS " OF A CAT^
BIRD.

Foil more than eight months a cat-bird has
lived in my house, passing his days in freedom
in the room where I sit at work, and his nights
in a cage not six feet from my head.

Having spent a summer in watching his ways
in his home, and acquiring a proper respect for
his intelligence, I now wished to test him under
new conditions, to see how he would adapt him-
self to our home, and I found the study one of
the most absorbing interest.

He had been caged a few weeks only, but he
was not at all wild, and he soon grew so accus-
tomed to my silent presence that, unless I
spoke, or looked at him, he paid no attention to
me. By means of a small mirror and an opera-
glass I was able to watch him closely in any
part of the room, when he thought himself un-
observed.

To the loving student of bird ways his feath-

7G ''TRICKS AND MANNERS" OF A CAT-BIRD.

ered friends differ in disposition as do his hu-
man ones. My cat-bird is a decided character,
with more intelligence than any other bird I
have observed. The first trait I noticed, and
perhaps the strongest, was curiosity. It was ex-
tremely interesting to see him make acquaint-
ance with my room, the first he had ever been
free to investigate.

Usually, with birds long caged, it is at first
hard to induce them to come out. I have been
obliged actually to starve them to it, placing
food and water outside, and repeating it for
many days, before they would come out freely,
and not be frightened. Not so with the cat-
bird. The moment he found that a certain
perch I had just put into his cage led into the
room through the open door, he ran out upon
it, and stood at the end, surveying his new
territory.

Up and down, and on every side, he looked,
excited, as the quick jerks of his expressive tail
said plainly, but not in the least alarmed. Then
he took wing, flew around and around several
times, and at last, as all birds do, came full
speed against the window, and fell to the floor.
There he stood, panting. I spoke to him, but
did not startle him by a movement, and in a
few minutes he recovered his breath, and flew
again, several times, around the room.

''TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD. 77

As soon as he became accustomed to using
his wings, and learned, as he did at about tlie
second attempt, that there was a solid reason
why he could not fly to the trees he could see
so plainly outside the window, he proceeded to
study the peculiarities of the new world he
found himself in. He ran and hopped all over
the floor, into every corner ; tried in vain to dig
into it, and to pick up the small stripes on it.
(The floor was covered with matting.) That
being thoroughly explored, — the lines of junc-
tion of the breadths and the heads of the tacks,
the dark mysteries of far under the bed and the
queer retreat behind the desk, — he turned his
attention to the ceiling. Around and around
he flew slowly, hovering just under it, and
touching it every moment with his bill, till that
was fully understood to be far other than the
blue sky, and not penetrable. Once having
made up his mind about anything, it was never
noticed again.

The windows next came under observation,
and these proved to be a long problem. He
would walk back and forth on the top of the
lower sash, touching the glass constantly with
his bill, or stand and gaze at the pigeons and
sparrows and other objects outside ; taking the
liveliest interest in their doings, and now and
then gently tapping, as if lie could not under-

78 ''TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD.

stand why it was impossible to join them. If
it had not been winter, his evident longing
would have opened windows for him ; a pining
captive being too painful to afford any pleasure.

But he soon became entirely contented, and,
having satisfied himself of the nature of glass,
seldom looked out, unless something of unusual
interest attracted his attention ; a noisy dispute
in the sparrow family, trouble among the chil-
dren of the next yard, or a snow-storm, which
latter astonished and disturbed him greatly, at
first.

The furniture then underwent examination.
Every chair round, every shelf, every table and
book, every part of the bed, except the white
spread, of which he always stood in awe, was
closely studied, and its practicability for perch-
ing purposes decided upon. My desk is an ever
fresh source of interest, since its contents and
arrangements vary. The top of a row of books
across the back is his regular promenade, and
is carpeted for his use with a long strip of
paper. There he comes the first thing in the
morning, and peers over the desk to see if I
have anything for him, or if any new object
has arrived. Here he gets his bit of apple or
raisin ; here meal-worms are sometimes to be
had ; and here he can stand on one foot and
watch the movements of ray pen, which he does

''TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD. 79

with great interest. Occasionally he finds an
open drawer, into which he delights to go and
continue his explorations among postage-stamps
and bits of -rubber, pencils and other small
things, which he throws out on the floor, with
always the possibility of discovering what is
still an enigma to him, a rubber band, to carry
off for his own use, as I will explain further on.

The walls and the furniture understood, he
proceeded with his studies to the objects on
the table. A mechanical toy interested him
greatly. It moved easily, and the wind of his
wings, alighting near it the first time, joggled
it a little. He turned instantly, amazed to see
signs of life where he did not expect them. For
a moment he stood crouched, ready for flight if
the thing should make hostile demonstrations.
Seeing it remain still, he touched it gently with
his bill. The toy moved, and he sprang back.
In a moment it was still, and he tried again ;
and he did not leave it till he had fully ex-
hausted its possibilities in the way of motion.

It is amusing to see how he is startled when
anything moves. First he is in a panic, and
then he coolly studies it out. On a table in
the room stood a '' Tweed Savings Bank " be-
longing to one of the children. This is the fig-
ure of a large, sleek-looking man seated in an
arm-chair, and holding out one hand, which

80 ''TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT- BIRD.

bends when a penny is placed in it, and drops
the coin into the vest pocket, the head making
a bow of thanks. The cat-bird had great ex-
citement over this object. He approached it
in his wary manner, ready to fly instantly if it
moved. Apparently he did not admire the
stretched-out hand, and after studying it a mo-
ment he gave it a savage peck. It yielded,
and he flew away. But he was not satisfied,
and in a few moments returned. This time he
tried the open pocket, probing it with his bill,
and becoming at last so excited that he deliv-
ered a furious blow on the hand, which the
figure politely acknowledged with a bow. The
bird disappeared instantl}^, and gave the strange
moving thing a full half hour's study from the
cornice before he returned to the table. When
he finally left it, however, he was perfectly sat-
isfied that it was not alive, for he never touched
or looked at it again.

At another time he saw his bath-tub, a tin
dish, standing upon a pitcher. He alighted on
the edge. It was so poised that it shook and
rattled. The bird flew in a panic to the top of
a cornice, his usual place of refuge, and closely
watched the pan while it jarred back and forth
several times. Apparently seeing that it was a
harmless motion, he again flew down to the
same spot ; and the rattle and shake did not

*' TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD. 81

drive him away till he had seen if there was
still a drop of water left for him in the bottom
of the dish.

One day, in his travels about the floor, he
found a marble. It was too large to take up in
his mouth, so he tried to stab it, as he does a
grape. The first peck he gave sent it rolling
off, and he hastily retreated to the cornice.
When it stopped he returned and tried it again.
This time it sprang toward him. He gave one
great leap, and then, ashamed of his fright,
stood and waited for it to be still. Again and
again he tried to pierce the marble, till he was
satisfied that it was not practicable, when he
abandoned it forever.

The pins on my cushion are always objects
of deepest interest to the cat-bird. He first tries
to pull them out, and then to push them in.
A large, black-headed shawl pin nearly drives
him wild. He seizes it in his bill, but finds it a
little too big and too slippery to carry off as he
does the shoe-buttons it so greatly resembles.
Then he tries to force it in ; he pounces upon
it, but his bill slips off ; he gets so frantic that
he fairly jumps off his feet to give greater force
to the blow ; still it does not move. After some
time he departs in disgust, but he is not satis-
fied, for every time he visits the bureau, where
he is fond of going, he has another struggle
with that pin.

82 ''TRICKS AND MANNERS" OF A CAT-BIRD.

There is one mystery in the room not yet
penetrated, though it is a subject of the deepest
longing : it is my waste-basket, the contents of
which are varied and attractive. He will stand
on the edge, hop all around, and view it from
every side ; but it is so deep and narrow that
he evidently does not dare to venture farther.
Every day he goes to the edge, and gazes sadly
and earnestly, but is never satisfied.

One of the most amusing of the cat-bird's
performances was with a praying mantis, which
lived for a few days under a small glass shade
on my desk. The moment the bird caught sight
of the stranger — about five minutes after its
arrival — he was greatly interested, and in-
stantly flew down to investigate. He alighted
close to the glass, and at once gave it a tap,
probably expecting to seize the insect. He was
somewhat surprised to meet with resistance,
but the effect upon the mantis was extraordi-
nary. That strange little creature had from
the first appeared observing : it would turn its
head to look at a person who drew near, and
return stare for stare, but it had never shown
fear. But the cat-bird was different; he was
recognized as an enemy. The instant he
touched the glass the mantis sprang up on the
defensive. Her plan seemed to be to make
herself as terrible to him as possible, and her

''TRICKS AND MANNERS" OF A CAT-BIRD. 83

efforts were remarkable. She raised her body-
as high as possible on four of her legs, while the
other two, the fore-legs, or arms, were thrown
out wide, as though to embrace him, as, by
the way, she would have done, if it had reached
a battle. She then raised her two pairs of
wings in a most peculiar way, one above the
other, all four in a row. The rear end of the
body was curled up like a bow, and her whole
frame swayed back and forth in a furious rage.
It was a most curious and wonderful exhibition
of passion in a creature not three inches long.

The cat-bird observed all this display with
interest as great as our own. He studied her
from every side, and tried again and again to
penetrate the glass. Every way he turned she
was ready for him, facing him always and per-
fectly prepared to grapple with him ; and strange
as it sounds, I am not sure of the result of the
battle had no glass intervened. She would
have sprung at his throat, no doubt, and held on
with those terrible sharp-spined arms, till, un-
able to rid himself of them, he would have been
choked.

Happily no such tragedy occurred, and the
next tenant of the glass shade was, if possible,
more interesting still to the bird. This was an
enormous green grasshopper which passed the
time in crawling up the sides of his prison, and

84 ''TRICKS AND MANNERS" OF A CAT-BIRD.

falling over on his back. The moment he ar-
rived the cat-bird came down to look on. He
watched with great attentiveness the slow and
careful movements of the insect as it climbed
the glass, bracing itself as long as possible with
one of its long hind-legs resting on the floor.
So long as the leg remained as a brace it was
safe, but when the climber had to withdraw the
support to go higher, its movements were not
so sure, and suddenly it fell over backwards,
landing on its back with all six legs wildly paw-
ing the air. The human observers were startled,
but the effect on the bird was laughable. He
made one bound, landing a foot away ; but un-
able to conquer his curiosity, slowly and warily
returned, to be again startled by a second catas-
trophe. This performance was enacted again
and again so long as the stupid green insect
remained on the desk, but the bird never lost
his interest in it, and never failed to be as
much startled at the denouement as at first.
His interest in my doings is always intense,
and at every fresh movement he will come
down to the corner nearest me, if in his cage,
or alight on the back of my desk, if out, and
peer at me with closest attention. One thing
that seems to amaze and confound him is my
appearance in a different dress. " What sort
of a monster is this," his manner says, " which

*' TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD. 85

can change its feathers so rapidly and so of-
ten?"

If I want him to go into his cage, or to any
part of the room, I need only to go myself and
put some little thing there, or even appear to
do so ; and as soon as I retire he will rush over
to see what I have done.

Next to his curiosity is his love of teasing.
The subject furnishing opportunity for a dis-
play of this quality is a cardinal grosbeak,
which cannot be coaxed to leave his cage. The
latte;;: is the older resident, and he did not re-
ceive the cat-bird very cordially. In fact, he
grew cross from the day the latter arrived, and
snarled and scolded every time he came near.
The cat-bird soon found out that his enemy
never left the cage, and since then has consid-
ered him a fit subject for annoyance. He will
alight on the cardinal's cage, driving him nearly
frantic ; he will stand on a shelf near the cage,
look in, and try to get at the food dish, — all
of which is in the highest degree offensive, and
calls forth violent scolds and screams of rage.
Finally, he will steal a grape or bit of fruit
stuck between the wires, when the cardinal will
fairly blaze with wrath. At one time the cat-
bird indulged in promenades across the top of
the cage, until the exasperated resident resorted
to severe measures, and by nipping his toes

86 " TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD.

succeeded in convincing his tormentor that the
top of his house was not a public highway.

Worse than all his other misdeeds, however,
was a deliberate insult he paid to the cardinal's
singing. This ardent musician was one day sit-
ting down on his perch, as he is fond of doing,
and singing away for dear life, when the cat-
bird alighted on the window-sash, close by the
cage. The singer kept his eye on him, but
proceeded with the music till the end of the
strain, when, as usual, he paused. At that in-
stant the cat-bird gave his tail one upward
jerk, as if to say, " Humph ! " I noticed the
insulting air, but I was surprised to see that the
cardinal appreciated it, also. He began again
at once, in much louder tone, rising to his feet,
— which he rarely does, — lifting his crest,
swaying back and forth in a perfect rage, glar-
ing at his enemy, and pouring out his usual
song in such a flood of shrieks and calls that
even the calm cat-bird was disturbed, and dis-
creetly retired to the opposite window. Then
the cardinal seated himself again, and stopped
his song, but gave vent to his indignation in a
most energetic series of sharp " tsips " for a
long time.

Quite different is the cat-bird's treatment of
two English goldfinches. On them he plays
jokes, and his mischievous delight and his

*' TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD. 87

chuckling at their success are plain to see.
One of them — Chip, by name — knows that
when he is in his cage, with the door shut, he
is safe, and nothing the cat-bird can do dis-
turbs him in the least ; but the other — Chipee
■ — is just as flustered and panic-stricken in her
cage as out, and the greatest pleasure of his
life is to keep her wrought up to the fluttering
point. He has a perfect perception of the dif-
ference between the two birds. When both are
out he will chase them around the room, from
cornice to cornice ; drive them away from the
bath, which they all have on a table, purely for
fun, as his manner shows. But once caged, he
pays no further attention to Chip, while always
inventing new ways to worry Chipee. He
alights on the perch between the cages, crouches
down, with eyes fixed upon her and tail jerk-
ing, as if about to annihilate her. She flies in
wild panic against the wires, to his great grati-
fication. Then he ruffs himself up to look ter-
rible, spreads his legs wide apart, blusters, and
jerks his body and wings and tail, making
feints to rush at her, till she is so frightened
that I take pity on her and drive him away.

One day, when she was more nervous and he
more impish than usual, I covered her cage
with a towel. He came back as soon as I had
left it, and proceeded to inquire into this new

88 ''TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD.

screen. After looking at it sharply on all sides,
he went around behind the cage, pulled at the
end of the towel, and peeped in. She fluttered,
and he was pleased. I arranged it more se-
curely, and the next performance was to take
hold with his bill, and shake it violently. This
also remedied, his last resource was to come
down on the end of the perch with a bounce,
making much more noise than usual ; he gen-
erally alights like a feather. After each bounce
he would stand and listen, and the flutter he
always heard delighted him hugely. As long
as they lived in the same room, she never con-
quered her fear, and he never tired of playing
pranks around her.

If to learn by experience is a sign of reason
in an animal, the cat-bird plainly demonstrated
his possession of that quality. He learned
readily by experience. Once or twice alight-
ing on the cane seat of a chair, and catching
his claws, taught him that was not a place
for him, and he did it no more. When his
claws grew so long as to curve around an ordi-
nary perch, or a book, after being caught once
or twice, he managed to accommodate himself
to this new condition, and start in a different
way. Instead of diving off a perch, as he nat-
urally does, he gave a little jump up. The
change was very marked, and he caught his
claws no more.

''TRICKS AND MANNERS" OF A CAT- BIRD. 89

He learned to ask to be uncovered in the
morning, in about three days. He would begin
his uneasiness quite early, flying back and forth
violently in the cage, and at last he would call.
I wanted to see if he would learn, so the mo-
ment he called I got up and removed the cover
which protected him from cold at night. For
two or three mornings he did the same, be-
came uneasy, flew a while, and then called,
when I at once responded. From the third day
he called the instant he wanted to be uncov-
ered, showing no more restlessness, and calling
again and again if I did not move at once, at
last giving his most harsh cry, and impatiently
scolding with rage.

To beg for worms was an easy lesson. Hav-
ing two or three times received them from a
pair of tweezers on my desk, he came regularly ;
perched on the books ; looked at me, and at
the cup which had held the worms ; then, if I
did not get them, opened and closed his bill,
and jerked his tail impatiently.

His great delight is to secure a rubber band,
of which I keep two sizes, one hardly larger
than a thread, and the other an eighth of
an inch wide and two inches long doubled.
These he is wild to get ; and since he treats
them as he does worms, I conclude that their
softness and elasticity are deceptive, and a mys-

90 ''TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD.

tery, like the glass, wliicli be cannot solve. At
any rate, after beating tbem on tbe floor as he
does a worm, he always swallows them. He
will persist in swallowing even the large ones,
and sit puffed out on his perch in evident suf-
fering for hours, before he discovers that he
cannot digest it, and at last disgorges. To find
a rubber band is the desire of his heart, and
to keep him from one is the desire of mine.
At first, when he pounced upon one, he would
stand on my desk and swallow it ; but after I
tried to prevent this, he learned cunning. The
instant his eye would spy one, generally under
some paper in my drawer, he would first glance
at me, then snatch the treasure, and instantly
fly to the cornice, where I cannot reach him.
I always know by the manner of his departure
that he has found what he knows, perfectly
well, is a forbidden object.

Another thing interesting to observe in the
cat-bird is his way of hiding himself, when in
plain sight all the time. He simply remains
entirely motionless, and one may look directly
at him, and not see him, so well does his plain
dark dress harmonize with his usual surround-
ings. Often I come into the room and look
about for him in all his favorite places, — on
the cornice, the desk, and before the glass ; no
bird to be seen. As I move about to Icok more

''TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD. 91

closely, he will suddenly fly up almost from
under my bund. Still as he can keep, his move-
ments are rapid ; he is deliberation itself in
making up his mind to go anywhere, but once
decided he goes like a flash.

When a new bird was introduced into the
room, an English song thrush, twice as big as
himself, the cat-bird was at first uncertain how
to treat him ; but in one day he learned that
he could frighten him. The small, dark, imp-
ish-looking fellow, rushing madly at the big,
honest, simple thrush, put him into an uncon-
trollable panic. As soon as this fact was estab-
lished the cat-bird became a tyrant. He will
not allow him to enjoy anything on the floor,
drives him away from the bath, mocks his
singing with harsh notes, and assumes very
saucy airs towards him.

The worst effect of the thrush's coming,
however, was to show me a new trait of the
cat-bird's character, — jealousy. The first day
or two he sulked, would not go out of his cage,
would not touch meat, and though he has grad-
ually returned to his liberty and his meat, he
still refuses, now after two months, to alight
on my hands for his tid-bits as he did before.

Nothing is more interesting than to note the
variety the cat-bird will give to the cry which
at a distance resembles the " mew " of a cat.

92 ''TRICKS AND MANNERS'' OF A CAT-BIRD.

He has many other notes and calls, besides his
exquisite songs, but there is hardly a shade of
emotion that he cannot express by the inflec-
tion he gives to that one cry. Whether he
proclaims a melancholy mood by softly breath-
ing it from closed bill, or jerks it out with a
snap at the end, as though he bit it off, when
he is deprived of some cherished treasure, — as,
for instance, a rubber band, — from one ex-
treme to the other, with all the shades between,
each expresses a meaning, and each is intelligi-
ble to a loving and observing student of his
ways.

THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

" 'T is a woodland enchanted!
By no sadder spirit
Than blackbirds and thrushea»
That whistle to cheer it
All day in the bushes,
This woodland is haunted :
And in a small clearing,
Beyond sight or hearing
Of human annoyance.
The little fount gushes."

Lowell.

"The blackbirds make the maples ring
"With social cheer and jubilee ;
The redwing flutes his o-ka-lee."

Emebson.

VII.
THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

The redwing blackbird is preeminently a
bird of social tastes. Nearly the whole year
he lives in a noisy crowd, calling, screaming,
and singing from morning till night. At this
time in his life his manners are of no particular
interest, but in the spring, as to other birds,
comes the mysterious impulse to leave the giddy
throng, to retire to a quiet nook, to build a nest
and establish a family. During this pleasing
episode in his ordinary history, his personality
reveals itself. He is no longer simply a unit
in a lively mob, but an individual with well-
marked characteristics and tastes of his own,
and he then becomes attractive to the student
of bird ways. It is in his domestic capacity, at
the head of a family, that the redwing is now
presented to you.

The blackbird nook is invariably the loveli-
est spot in a neighborhood, and is never hard
to find, for with childlike ingenuousness he

at) THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

makes himself so conspicuous, and his business
so apparent, that the dullest observer cannot fail
to notice him. Long before you reach his vi-
cinity you shall hear his gleeful " Conk-a-ree "
(or more correctly " h'wa-ker-ee," as Gentry has
it), and, as you approach, his loud " Chack !
chack ! " challenging your right to intrude, and
demanding your business in his retreat.

But draw near, even if, as sometimes hap-
pens, the bird grows belligerent and swoops
down toward your face. You will find a clump
of trees at the edge of the water, generally
hedged in by low, thick-growing shrubs. Part
the branches, in defiance of his angry protests,
stoop, and you shall step into a most charming
spot, his chosen home. If in a park it will be
a bit of wildness, left as nature planned it, un-
frequented and perfectly secluded, though per-
haps not ten feet from a common walk.

Within the thick shrouding bushes the ground
is bare or thinly clad with low shrubs, and tall
trees completely shade the leafy temple, which
is cool and roomy and refreshing in its peculiar
green light. One side borders the water, and
there, low among the reeds, is doubtless the
homestead so highly regarded, and so poorly
concealed. But though the spot be lonely, you
shall not enjoy it in peace, for this anxious par-
ent, the most fussy and restless of feathered

THE BIRD OF SOCIETY. 97

folk, will not cease to scold and scream so long
as you stay, running along the branches, and
eying you from every side.

Should his mate be sitting she will keep si-
lent, and show herself more wary than her
spouse, but if the young are out she will soon
appear. She differs so greatly from her con-
sort that you may not recognize her till she
adds her volubility to the melee and you per-
ceive that her voice is exactly like his. She is
smaller, and an inconspicuous gray and brown
in color, which better fits her for her maternal
duties, but her manner of carrying herself, her
restlessness, and the expressive use of the tail
are like his. He is the most conspicuous fea-
ture in the landscape ; shining black from the
point of the bill to the tip of the toes, his color
harmonizes with nothing in nature, and his gold-
fringed, scarlet epaulets gleam through the trees
like gems.

Sit down quietly and watch the bird. Not-
withstanding his " society " life he has not the
slightest repose of manner. He is incessantly
in motion ; to stand still and be looked at is im-
possible to a blackbird. He will walk along a
small branch in such a way that it requires a
close look to see that he does not put one foot
before the other. He really " sidles," but holds
his body in the direction he is moving, so that

98 THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

one is easily deceived. Then he will jump
heavily to the next bough, and walk the length
of that, jerking his tail at every step, and all
the time scolding and screaming at the top of
his voice, till you are sure the whole bird world
will be notified of the presence of an inquisi-
tive stranger with suspicious manners.

Should the j^oung be out, you will quickly be
informed of the fact by the presence of the
modestly dressed mother, who will appear, per-
haps, with a mouthful of food, which, however,
will not prevent her uttering the blackbird
" Chack ! chack ! " She will resent your intru-
sion earnestly, hopping uneasily about the tree,
anxious to carry her load to the nest, yet fear-
ing to have you see her, till at length she will
slip behind the trunk and silently take wing
from the further side, while her ingenuous
spouse, perfectly confident of the success of her
ruse, delivers a triumphant cry.

Such childlike faith is not to be betrayed.
You have not the heart to follow that troubled
mother to the clump of low bushes where her
treasure is hidden. You are not here as a rob-
ber, or a violator of homes, however small, but
as a student of life. To-morrow you shall re-
turn and see the darlings of tlie blackbird fam-
ily out on the tree, which is mucli more satis-
factory than to disturb the nest, and distress
the owners thereof.

THE BIRD OF SOCIETY. 99

If you keep still so long that the lively bird
forgets your presence and becomes less noisy,
you may see him sit down on a branch to rest
after his excitement, letting his tail hang
straight down ; and now and then, stretching
out his long neck till the feathers stand apart,
swell out his throat and treat you to his song.
If the hour is favorable you may see him bathe,
and it is worth seeing, for he is exceedingly
fond of water. He spatters and splashes with
a good will, and although too careless a fellow
to be much of a dandy in his subsequent toilet,
— simply shaking himself violently, and leav-
ing the sunshine to complete the drying, — yet
his coat is bright and shining.

When the young blackbird family appears
on the tree, the spectacle is most amusing.
The father, fussy as the celebrated " hen with
one chicken," hopping and running over the
branches, chattering all the time, and now and
then offering a dainty morsel to one of the in-
fants ; the mother busy enough trying to fill the
ever yawning mouths ; and the clumsy young-
sters themselves, as big as their mother and ex-
actly like her in color, too restless to keep near
each other, but sidling along the branches and
hopping awkwardly about the tree, so that the
mother has to seek them in a new place every
time she returns from her excursions for food.

100 THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

For several days the feeding goes on, till the
youngsters' tails have fully grown out, and one
cannot tell them from the mother, and then
some morning the student creeps into the black-
bird nook, and finds it strangely quiet, and the
whole family gone. It is probably quite broken
up, the father has resumed his bachelor ways
in the society of his kind, and the full grown
young of the neighborhood are enjoying life in
their own fashion in a flock by themselves.

The summer home life of the blackbird is
over, and you will seek him in vain in the nook.
Henceforth it is the open country and the
cornfields where he is to be found, under many
names, but uneasy and voluble as ever, and
here we will not follow him.

The noises a blackbird will make are of
great variety, more than one would suspect who
has not studied him in confinement. His close
acquaintance with all the sounds a bird will
make and the emotions indicated by the differ-
ent cries and calls is perhaps the most useful
knowledge to be gained by keeping him in cap-
tivity. The blackbird in the house has made
every slightest sound familiar, and you never
mistake him for any other, however far-off or
well-concealed.

The song of this bird has been variously
characterized, but rarely appreciated. It is, in

THE BIRD OF SOCIETY. 101

truth, when heard away from the crowd a
wild, rich strain, bringing memories of the
woods in long summer days, the delightful odor
of fresh earth and strong vegetable growth. It
is impossible to describe, but no bird's song is
more expressive of his life, or more suggestive
of wild nature. It consists of two strains,
each of which is varied. That most commonly
heard has been well represented — as I said —
by the syllables " h' wa-ker-ee," on an ascend-
ing scale. Heard nearer, however, this strain
is found to consist always of four notes (one
lower in the beginning), and often of six. If
the usually heard notes are supposed " do-mi-
sol-do," beginning on low C, (which they nearly
resemble) the bird varies it by sometimes sing-
ing " sol-mi-do-mi-sol-do," in the same octave,
and occasionally by throwing in a note be-
tween each of the original four. The whole
has an indescribable quality, and the final
" do " is often a well-executed trill. The sec-
ond strain is of similar notes, only in a minor
key. If the tones cannot be said to be sweet
in themselves, it must be remembered that they
are intended for distant effects, and at least
they are clear, perfectly suited to the woods,
and not unpleasing even in a room.

But his song is the smallest of the blackbird's
utterances. To begin with, is his familiar harsh

102 THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

" chack," expressing various emotions, being
sometimes softened into "check," and "cliiek,"
and even with closed bill into a rich " chuck."
Besides this he has a shrill scream — it can be
called nothing else — on a high key, a sharp,
insect-like sound, and a rough aspirate, when
displeased, like the first sound of " h." Aside
from all these, however, this bird possesses one
genuinely sweet, most musical note. It is a
single call which sounds like '' ee-ii ii." He
gives it sometimes when flying, and in captivity
when enjoying anything exceedingly. For in-
stance, in bathing he will utter that note, and
if one answers in a moderately close imitation
on the same key, he will repeat it. I have
kept one saying it over for twenty times or
more.

Poets and naturalists have exhausted adjec-
tives in ridiculing the blackbird's song, but the
reasons for the peculiar discordance of a flock
are not far to seek. In the first place, when
birds begin to moult, and their usually clear,
decided notes break, crack, and fail miserably,
nearly every one takes refuge in silence. If he
cannot sing his best, he will not sing at all.
The blackbird is the only exception I know,
and he is so brimming over with spirits and jol-
lity that sing he must. He is not discouraged,
although his attempted " h' wa-ker-ee ! " ends

THE BIRD OF SOCIETY. 103

in the first syllable in a crack, or choke, or even
in a dismal squeal, as it sometimes does. He
simply pauses a moment as if to collect his en-
ergies, and then utters his whole song, every
note clearly and well, as if to say, " That was
only a slip ; you see I can sing yet." It is ex-
tremely interesting to hear the gentle, low trials
which he will give of his returning powers when
the moulting season is over ; whispered songs,
as it were, till he is sure he has recovered his
voice, and can utter the full, clear song in
which he delights.

Then, again, his song needs for full enjoy-
ment to be alone, while in the " madding
crowd " of a flock of blackbirds, noisy and gar-
rulous as a pack of school-children, the *' h' wa-
ker-ee " of one is spoiled by the scream of an-
other and the "chack, chack's " of twenty
more. Listen to one bird alone in his own
chosen nook, and no song in the woods seems
more appropriate, more to breathe the very soul
of wildness.

When this bird expresses his emotions in a
house the strain is most characteristic, being a
curious medley of all the sounds he can make
in rapid succession, as " h' wa-ker-ee ! chack,
chack ! (scream) ee-uii ! chack, chack ! (scream)
chick, chick ! ee-ii vl ! h' wa-ker-ee ! (scream ) "
and so on for fifteen minutes or more without

104 THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

pause. His morning song is the "h' wa-ker-ee "
alone at intervals of a minute or less. In bappy
captivity he will sing thus for an hour, while
yet the room is dark, and before he touches
food.

I spoke of the blackbird's fondness for water.
In a cage it is impossible to keep more than a
quarter of an inch of water in his dish. This
element is simply irresistible. The first thing
he does is to spatter as much out as he can, and
then with every mouthful of food, before and
after and in the middle of his eating, he wants
water. Seeds he cracks over the dish and gath-
ers the fragments as they float ; of mocking-bird
food he takes a beakful and deliberately drops
it in the water and eats the particles daintily
from the top.

He is the only bird I have seen pay particu-
lar attention to bathing his feet, but my black-
bird will stand on the edge of his bathing dish,
fill his beak with water and pass it down over
each toe in succession, letting the water flow
over it, and apparently scraping the whole
length carefully. I have watched this very
closely while not three feet from him.

The same bird learned in a few days to know
his regular attendant, and while remaining for
months quite wild on the approach of the gen-
tleman of the family, whom he saw every day,

THE BIRD OF SOCIETY. 105

was never In the least wild with me. From
the first he took food from my hand, and before
he had been in the house a week, seeing one
day a thrush standing on my knee and receiv-
ing meat from my hand, he came out of his
cage, flew across the room and alighted beside
the thrush (who instantly vacated his position)
and stood there as long as I fed him, showing
not the least fear. A little later, when he be-
came ill, and so weak that he hesitated to de-
scend his three perches for food because of his
uncertain footing, he allowed me to put my
hand in the cage and hold his dish up to him
on the upper perch, when he would eat freely,
and then, when I offered the water, drink
also. For two or three days he ate in no other
way, and I am confident I thus kept him alive
while curing him of his aihnent.

This bird has now lived with me many
months, and though his cage door is always
open he seldom comes out, and when he does is
very glad to get back. He is observing, no-
tices in a moment if I have anything to eat,
and comes instantly to the side near to me and
calls, till I offer him a bit of whatever it may
be, when he descends to his beloved water-cup,
tastes the morsel and usually deposits it tidily
in one of his dishes. He had a strange experi-
ence a few months ago ; he broke off the end

106 THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

of his bill. First the upper mandible appeared
a quarter of an inch shorter than the lower,
and he had great trouble to eat, though he
sang as merril}^ as usual. In a day or two,
while I was seeking advice on the subject,
which by the way I did not get, for no one
that I could find ever heard of such a case, he
broke the lower one to match. Since then he
is as happy as ever, disturbed by nothing ex-
cept the singing of one of his neighbors, whom
it seems to be the aim of his life to reduce to
silence. If volume would do it success must
crown his efforts, but his opponent is a plucky
little fellow and refuses to be suppressed, and
so for months the unequal rivalry has con-
tinued.

The redwing is never by any chance grace-
ful. He walks about the floor like an old man
with the gout, and he has a curious fashion of
thrusting his long bill into a dish and then
opening it, as if to pry the seed or water apart.
He does the same under the edge of a towel or
newspaper on the floor.

One funny little exhibition of intelligence was
furnished by the blackbird and a thrush. The
latter chose to alight beside tlie former's cage,
and attempt to pull things through the wires.
The indignant owner came down to the corner
nearest the intruder and began to scold '' Chack!

THE BIRD OF SOCIETY. 107

(scream) chack ! (scream)." The thrush went
calmly on with his occupation, seeing which
the blackbird slightly raised the wing nearest
the enemy and quivered it with excitement,
while repeating the salutation above. Finding
the thrush not in the least disturbed by this
demonstration he resorted to more severe meas-
ures, and gave a violent peck between the wires
(touching nothing, however). This settled the
matter, but the queer thing about it was the
fact that both birds would pause in their hos-
tilities every few seconds and look over to
where I sat. I feigned not to see them, and
then they resumed their demonstrations, acting
exactly like two quarrelsome children who look
to see if they are observed. It showed an in-
telligent acknowledgment of my position as
law-maker, and a recognition of the possibility
of my being displeased, besides a guilty con-
sciousness of wrong doing.

The blackbird's use of his wings is exceed-
ingly expressive. On one occasion, wishing to
carry him to another house, I placed him in the
basket I keep for the purpose, comfortably
fitted with perch and food dishes. In this
conveyance he remained an hour, and when I
took him out he was in a new cage in a room
he had never seen. He noticed the strangeness
of his surroundings, examined every part of the

108 THE BIRD OF SOCIETY.

cage with interest and at last came and stood
on tlie side nearest me. I began to talk to
him, when he at once showed the deepest at-
tention, held both wings slightly away from
his body, and quivering, while head and body
swayed from side to side, and his eyes were
fixed on mine. " Why have you done this
thing?" his manner said. *' Why have you
torn me from my familiar home, confined me
in a basket, and placed me among strangers at
last ? "

So evident was his emotion, and so eloquent
his expression of it, that I am not ashamed to
admit that 1 was greatly touched.

"UPON THE TEEE-TOP."

" Hush ! 'T is he !
My oriole, my glance of summer fire,
Is come at last, and, ever on the watch,
TAvitches the pack-thread I had lightly wound
About the bough to help his housekeeping, —
Twitches and scouts by turns, blessing his luck,
Yet fearing one who laid it in his way.
Nor, more than wiser we in our affairs,
Divines the providence that hides and helps."

Lowell.

VIII.
UPON THE TREE-TOP.

When I stepped into the yard of the cottage
that was to be my home for a month, the first
bh'd I saw was a Baltimore oriole, perched on a
dead branch near the top of a tall old apple-
tree. His rich colors shone brightly against the
foliage behind him, and he was evidently at
home, for he had the air of a proprietor. I was
pleased ; but the sentiment was not mutual.
He greeted me with scolding, and as that did
not drive me away he became restless, hopped
from branch to branch, flirting his tail and
showing extreme uneasiness. Looking about
for the reason of his uncalled-for hostilities, I
saw the nest, on a slender branch of a young
maple, ten or twelve feet high. He was on
guard, and it was in his official capacity of spe-
cial police that he had given me so inhospitable
a reception. Nor could I wonder ; it must have
been disconcerting to him. Relying upon a cot-
tage shut up and showing no signs of life, he

112 •* UPON THE tree-top:'

had set up housekeeping not a dozen feet from
the kitchen door, and naturally, on so small a
tree, in a most conspicuous position ; when
suddenly the silent old building had burst
open at every window and door, and swarmed
with human life. A mischievous boy or an in-
quisitive student of bird ways might cause un-
told trouble and alarm in that small household.
Such, at least I fancied, were the reflections of
the troubled soul in that agitated body as he
looked down upon us, watching every move-
ment, flitting from tree to tree, but never los-
ing sight of any one who chanced to be in the
orchard. During this uneasy period I saw what
looked like a deliberate intention to deceive.
In examining this new field I noticed a small
nest in an upright fork of an old tree, in a dead
branch at the top, doubtless a last year's home
of some small bird. While I looked at it, the
oriole flew from his perch directly to it, leaned
over as if interested in its contents, and so in-
tently that I could not resist the conviction
that he wished to mislead me, for when I ex-
amined his nest, and he saw that all disguise
was at an end, he never again, that I saw, went
near that deserted residence.

This oriole was a remarkably silent bird,
the first of his family that I have noticed who
passed hour after hour without opening his

" UPON THE tree-top:^ 113

mouth to sing, and, I sometimes thought, to eat,
so quietly did he sit on the branch overlooking
his homestead. Happily, he soon learned that
we were friends, and if, perhaps, somewhat pry-
ing as to his domestic concerns, still not intend-
ing harm. He grew more free in movement,
ventured now and then to desert his post of
watcher, and be absent a half-hour at a time ;
also he found his voice, and entertained us with
calls, single notes of the rich flute-like quality
for which his family is noted, and very rarely
with his song.

It was the third day of June, and sitting was
already begun. The tree on which his nest
was placed had ten branches, not one over
two feet long ; the eighth was the largest,
and on that hung the oriole nursery. It was
pretty to see the birds approach it. When
not alarmed, they invariably alighted on the
lowest branch, near the stem of the tree, and
hopped from step to step upward ; in leaving
they never retraced their steps, but mounted
the two remaining branches, and took flight
from the top twig. When the female reached
home after a short absence, she hastened up the
winding stairs, looked anxiously at her treas-
ures, plunged in head-first, and then, quick as a
jack-in-the-box, thrust her head above the edge
for a last look, before she settled out of sight

8

114 " UPON THE tree-top:*

within. Very seldom did both birds leave
home at the same time. When she was obliged
to go for food, for he never appeared to bring
her anything, she uttered a call; he at once
responded, and placed himself on his post of ob-
servation to watch; on returning she dropped
another note or two, as if of thanks, and then
he flew away. Once, in the early morning,
before the house was open, I found them both
off, so I concluded it was because of us that they
were so vigilant during the day. A more con.
stant and jealous watcher than this bird could
scarcely be. When not in the apple boughs,
he might generally be seen in a tree in the next
lot, a little farther off, and it seemed as if he
was not absent long enough to get necessary
food.

One day an impatient visitor, wishing to see
if the oriole was at home, gave the tree a violent
shake. She was at home, and she flew off in a
rage, perching on the next tree, scolding and
shaking her wings at him, every moment emit-
ting a peculiar cry, new to me then, but very
familiar later, — the cry of distress. In a mo-
ment or two this brought upon the scene her
mate, who added his cries and demonstrations
to hers. The perpetrator of this rude joke re-
tired, somewhat ashamed, and it was interesting
to see how long it was after all was quiet before

" UPON THE tree-top:' 115

the birds were reassured. He went to the nest
and looked in, but she could not be persuaded
that it was safe for her to return. She flew
back and forth between two trees about a hun-
dred feet apart. In the route she went past her
home ; after flying straight by once or twice,
her course began to swerve a little towards her
own tree ; the second time she almost reached
it, but turned and went on ; the third time she
alighted an instant on the lowest step, hastily
flying away as if she expected another earth-
quake ; the fourth time she rapidly mounted
her winding stairs, and glanced in the nest ;
the fifth time she entered it for a moment ; the
sixth time she stayed.

One morning, after breakfast, an unusual
sound was heard, the same by which the female
oriole when in trouble had called her mate, —
the signal of distress. It came from the front
of the house, and I hastened to see what was
amiss with the little family. Before I reached
them I noticed the cawing of a crow nearer
than we usually heard that sound, and when I
came' in sight of the woods on that side, be-
hold ! Corvus himself on the top branch of a
tall tree, perfectly outlined against the sky,
cawing his loudest. The oriole was not in
sight, but while I looked a second crow rose
from the woods, and after him, to my surprise,

116 ''UPON THE tree-top:'

the oriole. He pursued the same tactics that
the kingbird does, flying above the enemy and
pouncing upon the back of his head or neck.
The crow flew over the orchard, accompanied
all the way by his plucky little assailant, while
the first crow remained on the perch and en-
couraged his comrade till both were out of
sight, when he also took wing and followed.
They were out of sight certainly, but not out
of hearing, for the cry of the oriole and the
caw of the crow came to us for half an hour,
growing more and more distant, ho^^ever, till I
began to fear that unlucky oriole would be
completely exhausted, or possibly dispatched —
which would have been easy enough if the two
crows had combined, for he was utterly reck-
less in his attack. Just as I was becoming
anxious, for the sounds had ceased, I heard a
joyous song of triumph, and there he was ! —
in the old spot, looking as fresh and gay as if
he had not come from a battle-field. Upon his
cry, the little spouse came out of the nest, and
responded with a few notes, evidently praise of
his bravery, for he fidgeted about in a self-con-
scious way, bowed his head, flirted his wings,
and manifested great excitement for some time.
But though driven away, the crows were not
conquered, and the next morning I was wa«
kened by the voice of a crow so very near that

" UPON THE tree-top:' 117

I sprang to the window. It was five o'clock,
and of course perfectly liglit, and there sat the
marauder in plain sight on an apple-tree in the
orchard, a thing the wary bird never did after
getting-up time. The oriole was there also,
uttering his war cry ; and hidden from them by
the blinds I had a perfect opportunity to see
his method of attack. I have never seen the
kingbird annoy a crow except when flying :
while the crow is at rest, the kingbird also re-
mains quiet, at some little distance. Not so my
brave oriole ; he harassed that crow constantly,
alighting not more than two feet from him, and
at his own level, so that I was surprised the
crow did not seize him, for I am sure he was
easily within reach. The oriole called and
bowed, turned this way and that, holding his
wings a little out and fluttering them, and then
he flew over and pecked at the crow as he
went, alighting on the other side ; then, in a
moment, after more posturing and calling, re-
turned in the same way. So he kept up the
warfare, while the crow continued his cawing,
being answered from the next lot, but made no
attempt to put an end to the attacks. Fully
five minutes he sat there, though it was mani-
festly not comfortable, for he lowered his head
to avoid the beak of his tormentor, and once or
twice turned and seemed to snap at him.

118 " UPON THE tree-top:'

When at last lie flew, his small foe was upon
him. I thought it strange that of the twenty-
five or thirty birds which frequented the place,
among which were several known to fight the
crow, not one came to help. If the robins and
cat-birds and others whose territory he invaded
had united, they could have driven him away
at once, but perhaps mobbing is the exclusive
prerogative of the English house sparrow.

The next encounter I saw was also early in
the morning. First I noticed a crow silently
fly over, and perch in the top of a pine-tree. It
was a singular place, and most undesirable ap-
parently, for it was in the middle of a clump of
top branches of about the same height. The
crow seemed to have trouble in adjusting him-
self among the hundreds of sharp needles that
pointed upward, changing his position and set-
tling himself with difiiculty, but at length he
seemed satisfied with his arrangements, and
began his loud caw. In a moment the oriole
was after him, and I now guessed the reason of
his choice of seat. There were no surrounding
twigs which his foe could use as a base for of-
fensive operations, and moreover the bristling
needles which surrounded him offered very good
protection from the fiery little oriole, who found
it impossible to pursue his usual tactics. I was
amused to see the wary precautions of the crow,

" UPON THE tree-top:' 119

and doubtless he thought he had outwitted the
enemy. But be underrated the intelligence of
the small bird, for although difficult to reach
hira, it was not at all impossible. He simply-
rose above the crow, pounced directly upon
him, and instantly rose again, instead of glanc-
ing off one side as usual. It was distinctly dif-
ferent, but equally effective, and in a few mo-
ments the crow gave up the contest for the
time, flying across the orchard, and making a
deep swoop down to avoid the plunge of his
assailant.

Unfortunately, like some personages of mili-
tary fame, this bird did not know when he was
beaten, and every day or two, through June,
hostilities were renewed. On one occasion I
was pleased to see a kingbird join the oriole
and assist in worrying the common enemy in
his passage over the house. Several times, be-
fore the little ones became too clamorous, the
female oriole accompanied him.

This bird's song consisted of four notes, and
it is curious that although there is a peculiar,
rich, flute-like quality by which the oriole notes
may be recognized, no two sing alike. Robins,
song sparrows, and perhaps all other birds sing
differently from each other, so far as I have ob-
served, but none differ so greatly — in my opin-
ion — as orioles. The four that I have been

120 " UPON THE TREE-TOP.''

able to study carefully enough to reduce their
song to the musical scale, though all having the
same compass, arranged the notes differently in
every case. The oriole is, of course, not lim-
ited in expression to his song. I have spoken
of his cry of distress or of war, which was two
tones slurred together. The ordinary call, as
he goes about a tree, especially a fruit-tree in
bloom, seeking insects over and under each leaf
or blossom, is a single note, loud and clear. If
a pair are on the tree together, it is the same,
but much softer.

An oriole that I watched in the Catskill
Mountains regularly fed his mate while she was
sitting, and as he left the nest after giving her
a morsel, he uttered two notes which sounded
exactly like " A-dieu," adding, after a pause,
two more which irresistibly said, "Dear-y."
There was a peculiar mournf ulness in this bird's
strain, as if he implied " It 's a sad world ; a
world of cats and crows and inquisitive people,
and we may never meet again." Perhaps it
was prophetic, for disaster did overtake the lit-
tle family; a high wind rocked the cradle —
which also was on a small maple-tree — so vio-
lently as to throw out the youngsters before
they could fly. The accident was remedied aa
far as possible by returning them to the nest,
but whether they were injured by the fall I
never learned.

" UPON THE TREE-TOP.'' 121

Scolding is quite ready to an oriole's tor.gue,
and even squawks like a robin's are not un-
known. The female has similar utterances, but
in those I have listened to her song was weaker,
lacked the clear-cut perfection of her mate's,
and sounded like the first efforts of a young
bird. In the case of those now under considera-
tion, the female reproduced exactly her partner's
notes, only in this inferior style, which seemed
rather unusual. The sweetest sound the oriole
utters is a very low one, to his mate when near
her, or flying away with her, or to his nestlings
before they leave the home. It is a tender,
yearning call that makes one feel like an in-
truder, and as if he should beg pardon and re-
tire. It is impossible to describe or reduce to
the scale, but it is well worth waiting and lis-
tening for.

What I most desired to see, in watching the
oriole's nest, was the introduction of the young
into the world, the first steps, the first flight ;
and on the thirteenth day of the montli came
the first indication that they were out of the
shell. The male bird went to the nest, leaned
over, and looked in with great interest, while
his mate stood unconcernedly on another twig
near. The next day it became evident that
her special duties were over, for she spent no
more hours sitting, and her consort suddenly

122 '« UPON THE TREE-TOP.''

undertook the housekeeping. She frequently
perched on another tree, and dressed her feath-
ers a half-hour at a time ; and greatly she
needed to, poor soul ! for a more ragged, neg-
lected-looking bird I never saw. The feath-
ers were quite off the back of her head, giving
her a curious outline, as though a bit of her
neck had been chopped out, which peculiarity
was of use later, since it enabled me to identify
her half a mile from her home. Her manner to
her mate at this time said plainly, " I 've done
my work, now it 's your turn," and he gladly
accepted the charge. He was obviously tired
of idleness and waiting, and he devoted him-
self with his whole soul to his babies. Many
times a day he ascended the winding stairs and
stood on the landing leaning over, head down
in the nursery and tail standing straight up in
the air, making him look like a black stick from
where I sat. For a day or two he took nearly
the whole charge, then she began to help, and
before many days both were engaged every mo-
ment, the hardest working pair imaginable, con-
stantly seeking food and carrying it to the little
ones, or putting the crowded house in order.
He was as faithful and cheerful a drudge as the
mother herself, for which he must have the
more credit, since he nearly stood on his head
in doing anything about the nest. Tt required,

" UPON THE TREE-TOP," 123

indeed, the untiring efforts of both parents to
keep pace with the growth of the family.

On the twenty-second day of the month, nine
days after the sitting was abandoned and I
knew the young orioles to be hatched (though
of course they may have been out a day or two
before), I heard them peep softly when food
was brought, and I redoubled my watching to
see them appear. On the twenty-seventh, when
I went to the veranda at eight o'clock, I heard
a new and strange cry in the next lot, a pasture
with scattering trees, and I saw both orioles
often fly that way. It sounded like birds in
distress, and reminded me of cries I once heard
from several wood thrushes when disturbed by
a cat. I hastened upon the scene, and was met
at the entrance by a bluebird in a great rage.
I thought she was in trouble, but upon following
the cries (in spite of her protests) I came upon
a bird new to me. It somewhat resembled the
female oriole, being almost her colors, with head
and wings a little darker. This bird received
me with scolding, and was very lively in run-
ning over the trees, though he did not seem in-
clined to fly. The calling was now very near,
and while I never saw him in the act, I was
confident he made at least a part of it ; and I
still think he did, althougli I afterwards found
those whose natural cry it proved to be. I

124 ''UPON THE TREE-TOPy

think it was a last year's oriole, not yet come
to his full plumage. Possibly he was attracted
by the cry of the young, as we know birds
sometimes are, and it seems not unlikely that
he replied to them in their own tones. How-
ever that may be, I saw later the young birds
■ — two of them — and found to my surprise that
they were orioles and from our nest, for I saw
the well-marked mother feed them. Moreover,
orioles are not so clannish as robins, nor so often
found near each other. I knew of another pair
a quarter of a mile off, and once a strange fe-
male came upon a tree where our little mother
was looking for food. She received the visitor
— I regret to say — with a sharp " f uff ! " more
like a cat than a bird, on which the intruder
very properly left.

The baby orioles were dumpy little yellowish
things, much like a young chicken in color, and
the most persistent cry-babies I ever saw among
birds. The young robin generally sits on his
branch motionless, seldom opens his mouth for
a call, and makes demonstrations only when
food is in sight ; the baby thrush is patience
and silence itself, — indeed how otherwise could
be a thrush ? Even the little blackbird, though
restless and fussy, does not cry much ; but those
oriole infants simply bawled (there 's no other
word) every instant. The cry was very pe-

" UPON THE TREE-TOP.'' 125

culiar, four or five loud notes on an ascend-
ing scale, rapidly and constantly repeated, like
" chr-r-r-r."

I should think the parents of these clamorous
creatures would have been driven wild, and
they did appear nearly so ; almost every mo-
ment one or the other brought food to the two
bawlers, who were on different trees twenty
feet apart. Each one sat stock still, like c lost
child afraid to stir, and gave his whole mind to
the noise he was making, and I wondered how
they had raised courage to fly so far from home.
I felt greatly chagrined that they had flown
without my seeing them, but on returning to
my usual seat was consoled to find the nest not
yet empty. The father gave his almost undi-
vided attention to the two already out, but the
mother was very busy at the homestead, and I
resolved that no more shoidd fly without my
assisting at the operation, at least by my pres-
ence ; consequently I nearly lived upon the ve-
randa. All through the next day, until nearly
eight o'clock, those youngsters could be heard
crying, and on the third day the sounds came
from further off, and the male oriole was rarely
seen.

The twenty-fifth passed, and no birds left the
nest ; the next day there was a stir in the ma-
ple. Early in the morning a nestling scrambled

126 " UPON THE TREE-TOP.''

up on the edge of his cradle and peeped out
upon the big world, while both parents hovered
about in great excitement. He found it uncon-
genial, perhaps, for, although a brother oriole
clambered up beside him and stood shivering
on the brink, he hesitated, turned toward the
warm nest and plunged in head-first, dragging
the other with him in his fall. Perhaps it
was because the second came up, for I noticed
afterwards that two were never out at the
same time; not until one had flown did the
next come up, and then he followed at once.
Upon the sudden disappearance, both parents
retreated to the apple-tree, and one announced
the failure of their hopes to the other with a
scolding note, — "gone back," it said. But his
hour had come, and before long that young bird
made another trial: first his fluffy little head
appeared ; a struggle, a scramble, and he was
safely upon a twig outside. No sooner did he
find himself in the air than he began the
" chr-r-r-r " of the brothers who had preceded
him by two days. The mother came, but she
did not feed him, though he was very eager.
She alighted upon a twig below him, and he
fluttered towards her, when suddenly she flew.
Then she returned, passed him, and attended
to the one in the nest, and he was disappointed
again. For two hours, during which he seldom

'< UPON TEE tree-top:' 127

received a morsel, while both parents coaxed
'him from the next tree, he stretched his wings,
shook them out, plumed himself, and gradually
grew accustomed to being out. They called ;
they flew about, around him, as if to show how
easy it was ; they uttered the low yearning cry
spoken of ; and above all, they nearly starved
him. " Come here, and you shall eat," their
manner said; and at last the youngling flut-
tered away, in a wavering, uncertain manner.
He reached the nearest tree, caught at a twig,
missed it, clutched awkwardly, beat the air, and
finally managed to secure a hold. Then he at
once righted himself, shook himself out, — and
began to cry! He was abundantly fed and
coddled by the delighted parents, and soon be-
gan to hop around on the tree quite proudly.

Meanwhile number four had scrambled up to
the twig from which flew every young oriole
that I saw. Even in the cradle, or at least on
its edge, these birds displayed character. This
one was quite different from his predecessor:
he looked about him ; he did not cry so much ;
and when, after an hour's preparation, he flew,
he soared off in a strong flight, aiming for a
tree more than twice as far from home as that
his brother had selected for his first attempt.
He was a bold, self-reliant, heroic spirit, doubt-
less his father's own son, who would fight

128 " UPON THE TREE-TOP,'*

crows to the end of his days. But, alas, he had
miscalculated his strength, and before reaching*
his goal he came fluttering to the ground. The
parents were at hand, but instantly became si-
lent, apparently not knowing how to help him,
for this was a serious calamity. It was in an
open lane that he had come down, and at any
moment a passing boy or dog might discover
him ; so, although I should have liked to see if
they could do anything for him, I did not dare
risk it. I hurried down, and found him run-
ning about in the hot grass, wild-eyed and
panting, but silent. The moment I came near
both parents found their voices and began
scolding ; but after a good look at him I drew
down a low branch, and put him upon it, when
the orioles became quiet, and I left them. He
was yellowish-drab on the breast and ash-col-
ored on the wings, with distinct oriole mark-
ings, short wings, and no tail ; smaller in pro-
portion to the parents than a young robin, I
think.

Quiet descended once more upon the " cradle
in the tree-top," though I saw, to my surprise,
that it still was not empty ; four birds of that
size I should think enough, and more than
enough, to fill it. The father assumed the care
of the two just out, and the mother alone re-
mained about the home. The next day passed

" UPON THE TREE-TOP." 129

without departures ; but on the morning, of the
twenty-eighth, number five came up to the edge.
This bird had begun his loud calls before he
appeared — the day before, in fact ; and when
he finally reached the outside world, he flew
very soon, about eight o'clock in the morning.
He, too, started for the distant tree that had
attracted number four, and the anxious mother,
remembering, no doubt, the late accident, flew
close by him, cheering and encouraging all the
time as she went. It was beautiful to see her,
sometimes over, sometimes under him, but
never a foot away, and constantly calling most
sweetly. He reached the tree in safety.

Now came in sight number six — as it proved,
the last of the family. Unfortunately it was
not a fair morning, and soon it began to rain.
He crpwded nearer to the tree stem and sat in
silence. It was a cool reception from the
world ; I feared it would be too much for him.
The mother came anxiously, and now I saw
him fed. The parent had, so far as I could
see, nothing in her mouth, but she put her
beak to his, then drew it away, and returned it
again, four or five times in succession, to his
evident satisfaction. Most of the time the
youngster was alone on the tree, facing the wet,
wet world by himself, — occasionally calling a
little. It was so discouraging that I kept con-

130 " UPON THE TREE-TOPy

stant watch, hoping he would wait for better
weather, and fearing his wet wings would not
carry him even to the next tree.

At about two o'clock it cleared, and after
much preening and dressing of feathers, num-
ber six flew successfully, reaching a still differ-
ent tree. No two of them alighted on the same
tree, and no two acted, or looked, or flew alike.
Also, I noticed the six had left the nest in
pairs, with forty-eight hours between each pair.

All the next day I heard baby cries in tlie
adjoining lot, as well as in the woods beyond ;
but on the third day no sounds were to be
heard, no birds were seen, and the nest in the
maple was as completely deserted as if no ori-
oles had ever lived in the orchard. When the
little ones can fly, the birds are at home any-
where ; any twig is a perch, any field or wood
a gleaning ground, and any branch a bed.

TEANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-
ROOM.

" And all the throng
That dwell in nests and have the gift of song ;
Whose household words are songs in many keys.
Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught ;
Whose habitations in the tree-tops even
Are half-way houses on the road to heaven."

Longfellow.

IX.

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM.

During all the years of bird-study in the
house, tliere has been an ahnost constant suc-
cession of transients in the bird-room. These
were birds — or beasts — intended for close ac-
quaintance, but, proving themselves in one way
or another out of harmony with the place or its
residents, were therefore banished.

One of the most fleeting of these visitors was
a ring-dove. It was very pretty, and it was
made personally interesting by a history, being
the survivor of a pair blown out to sea, and
alighting on a ship five hundred miles from the
coast of Africa ; but its habits were unbear-
able. One might have learned to endure the
oft - repeated " Coo-o-o ! coo ! coo ! Coo-o-o !
coo ! coo ! " though it was painfully mournful,
expressing only longing and regret. But when
to that plaintive cry was added a startling and
frightful sound like choking or strangling, or, as
one listener called it, a fiendish laugh, the bird

134 TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM.

rapidly lost favor, and he completed the list of
his offences by amusing himself at intervals
through the night by a violent and loud flap-
ping of his broad wings, lasting at least half
a minute each time, and thoroughly arousing
every one within hearing, bird or human. A
very few nights ended his stay in the room.

The next sentence of banishment went forth
against two bobolinks, which, at the end of a
fortnight's coaxing and kindness were still so
wild that they were voted idiots unworthy of
study. Those few days, however, were enough
to show that the two were utterly unlike in dis-
position. One was an earthly-minded person-
age, caring for nothing but physical comforts,
and quite happy so long as the food-dish was
full, the bathing-cup at hand, and no human
being near. The other bobolink was of finer
quality. So great was his interest in his new
surroundings that he could scarcely spend time
to eat. Nothing that went on in the room
or outside the windows escaped his quick eye,
and the manner in which he stretched up on
his long legs to look at anything showed plainly
his grass-frequenting habits. His amazement
when the other birds were flying about was
amusing to see.

Also the relation between the two bobolinks
was remarkable. The latter bird always took

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 135

precedence in everything, assumed the best
place as his right, and his cage-mate submitted
as a matter of course. Not only was the most
desirable perch, the highest and nearest the
light, always occupied by the one, but the other
bird never intruded even upon the further end
of it, which is quite an unusual degree of defer-
ence in birds. He did not seem to be in the
least afraid, but simply to recognize that his
place was that of an inferior. They had come
from a large cage full of their kind, so wild and
frightened that I could not believe the bird had
secured his position by fighting. Both were
males, so it was no question of sex. They prom-
ised to be an interesting study, excepting for
the one fact that they would not make acquaint
tance. From this was inferred a low degree of
intelligence which made them unworthy a place
among the several members of the thrush fam-
ily then occupying the room, and sentence fell
upon them accordingly.

Nor was the next venture more fortunate.
This was a skylark which came into the house
through personal appeal. Looking slowly
through the cages of a bird-store, I was sud-
denly saluted by a faint, melancholy cry from
this little bird, standing close to the bars, and
looking steadily at me. There is not a bird in
such an establishment — unless it be the scream-

136 TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM.

ing parrots, who seem quite suited to their sur-
roundings — but draws upon my sympathies.
I would gladly buy the whole stock and open
every door. But when one apparently singles
me out, fearlessly comes as near as possible,
and, looking me straight in the face, gives a
plaintive cry, I am unable to resist. I bought
the skylark, though I did not want him.

I spared no pains to make the stranger happy.
I procured a beautiful sod of uncut fresh grass,
of which he at once took possession, crouching
or sitting low among the stems, and looking
most bewitching. He seemed contented, and
uttered no more that appealing cry, but he did
not show much intelligence. His cage had a
broad base behind which he delighted to hide,
and for hours as I sat in the room I could see
nothing of him, although I would hear him stir-
ring about. If I rose from my seat he was in-
stantly on the alert, and stretched his head up
to look over at me. I tried to get a better
view of him by hanging a small mirror at an
angle over his cage, but he was so much fright-
ened by it that 1 removed it.

When the lark's door was opened, with the
cage on the floor, he went out readily, but he
always ran rapidly around the edge of the room
in a crouching position, as if he expected every
moment to be pounced upon. He was not

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 137

afraid ; he ate from the fingers and grew quite
tame, but he never seemed to know enough to
go home. Even when evidently very hungry
he would stand before his wide-open door,
where one step would take him into his beloved
grass thicket, and yet that one step he would
not take. When his hunger became intoler-
able he ran around the room, circled about his
cage, looking in, recognizing his food -dishes,
and trying eagerly to get between the wires to
reach them ; yet when he came before the open
door he would stand and gaze, but never go in.
He sometimes passed three or four hours in this
senseless performance, and it was always a
trouble to get him home. After five months'
trial, during which he displayed no particular
intelligence, and never learned to enter his
cage, he passed out of the bird-room, but not
into a store.

One habit in which this bird indulged was
most attractive. It looked like a sort of dance.
With both wings beating rapidly, extended
their broadest, he gave little hops, not more
than two or three inches from the floor, and in
this way went all around the room when he
happened to be out. If in his cage when the
notion seized him, he danced all around in that
small space. I never tired of watching this
most graceful and beautiful flying dance.

138 TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM.

After several failures in finding a bird to
my mind, I resolved upon a change, and so
introduced to the study a pair of marmosets:
they were of the smallest variety, a few inches
tall, with little round faces about the size of a
silver half-dollar ; and, having already been in-
terested in the pranks of a pair in a friend's
house, I promised myself much pleasure. I did
not select them, and while one was everything
I could desire, having an amiable face with a
full white fan of hair on each side, a long, per-
fect tail and fur in good condition, the other
had a wicked face, no white fans, and only half
a tail. He looked like a tramp, and he proved
himself to have something of the character we
associate with that sort of personage. He was
extremely greedy, and ate like a thief who
never expected to have another chance ; in a
word, he " gobbled." He was always first at
the bars when food approached, and he would
thrust his droll little hands out, pleading for
the first bite, and savagely pulling the hair of
his mate if she happened to be nearest and re-
ceived the first piece. It was of no use to try
to administer justice by giving her the prece-
dence, for he fell upon her instantly, snatch-
ing the morsfel away and making her scream.
Generally, therefore, he secured the first por-
tion, a bit of apple or thin slice of banana.

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 139

The moment he grabbed his food he snatched
a hasty mouthful, never taking his eyes off the
dispenser of supplies, threw the rest on the
floor, and thrust out the hand to be filled
again. Just so long as anything eatable was
in sight would he repeat the operation, and to
pick up a bit that was dropped never seemed
to occur to either of them. Both were very
decided in their opinions of food ; neither would
touch rice, potato or bread ; only apple and ba-
nana suited their delicate taste, — oh yes I and
meal-worms. For the latter delicacy they were
absolutely frantic, both pressing against the
wires and thrusting forth four droll little plead-
ing hands to receive the dainty, which they de-
voured as a child disposes of a stick of candy.

On one occasion a fisherman of the family
brought home some of his bait, a number of
sand-worms of large size, long, tufted and alto~
gether dreadful - looking creatures, measuring
six inches or more. Since the marmosets bade
fair to cause a meal-Avorm famine and still re-
main unsatisfied, I resolved to offer them one
of these delicate objects, not much thinking
they would accept. But I underrated their
ability ; they eagerly snatched them and pro-
ceeded to gobble them down at once, as rapidly
as possible, and with evident relish. Naturally
the more greedy of the two quickly finished his

140 TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM.

six or eight inches of worm and instantly turned
upon the other, who had not made so great
progress. Away went the persecuted crea-
ture, screaming, tearing around the cage in the
most frantic way, and ever close on her heels
her relentless tormentor, bent upon snatch-
ing away the sweet morsel. He did seize the
free end, but she did not relax her hold upon
the other, and thereupon ensued a ridiculous
struggle, — a wild scramble through the cage,
sometimes on one side, and sometimes the other,
as the rightful owner or the high-handed rob-
ber secured a momentary advantage. The mat-
ter was settled, of course, by the separation of
the object of dispute, when each of the combat-
ants made haste to dispose of his fragment, and
again thrust out his hands for more.

In a few days, I one morning quietly opened
the door of the marmosets' cage. The favorite,
— the persecuted one, from whom I expected the
best behavior — was first to spy this change.
She was out like a flash, and without an in-
stant's hesitation, exactly as though she had
planned it before, she made a direct line for a
bird-cage. All the cages were high, and 1 had
taken the precaution to close every door before
I made this experiment. At the first break she
climbed up the leg of a table, from there sprang
to the back of a chair four feet away, then gave

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 141

a bound toward the cage. Misled, — I suppose
by the vine-covered wall paper, which she tried
to clutch, — she did not jump far enough, and
fell heavily to the floor. In a second, however,
she was up, and, taking the same route, made a
better spring from the chair-back, and landed
on the side of the cage. The tenant — a calm
thrush — looked at her fearlessly, even draw-
ing nearer as if to question her right to hang
upon his cage.

But the little monkey was savage ; she thrust
a small but cruel hand between the wires as far
as she could reach, and not much wisdom was
required to know that she would make short
work of a bird if she got her fingers upon it. I
tried to drive her off, but she scrambled over
the other side and eluded me. Then she sprang
lightly several feet to another cage, that of
a golden-wing woodpecker, who was terribly
frightened and beat himself against the wires
in uncontrollable panic. This seemed to please
the assailant, who clung with such desperation
to the cage that I feared I should not get her
away before the bird had seriously injured him-
self. She went from one side to the other so
rapidly that it was impossible to catch her,
and, for a long time, equally so to drive her
off.

Having succeeded at last in getting the run-

142 TRANSIENT GUESTS IN TUE BIRD-ROOM.

away to the floor, I called in help, and, with
hastily snatched towels and shawls to impede
her movements, we finally captured her in a
towel and returned her to her quarters, in
which all this time her mate sat quietly, so
greatly interested in the flurry of excitement in
the room that he never discovered the open
door. This was fortunate for me, since there
was not help enough in the house to catch two
so lively fellows. That escapade settled the
fate of the marmosets ; as prisoners only could
they stay among birds, and prisoners I did not
care for.

A beautiful Mexican thrush was for some
little time a resident in the bird-room, and I
must admit that his beauty won him the place.
He was dressed entirely in soft golden browns,
dark on the back, lighter below, with fine hair
lines on the chin, and bill of greenish olive
with lighter tip. His eyes were brownish red,
inclosed in circles the color of his breast.

This bird was a thrush in all his manners,
deliberate in movement, never in a panic, al-
ways calm, whatever happeped, and afraid of
neither birds nor people. If suddenly startled,
he remained in exactly the attitude in which
he had been surprised, as if instantly frozen,
and thus he stood with perfect patience till
his curiosity was satisfied. Sometimes this was

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 143

very droll, as once when he had just taken a
piece of bread as big as his head from my
hand and was about to beat it to pieces on the
floor. He stood for some time holding it up in
the air with great dignity, his mouth stretched
wide, and never thinking to drop his burden, as
most birds would do. Not even laughing at
him had the smallest effect. There he stood
till he was ready to go on with his meal.

The temper of the Mexican, however, was
very different from our gentle thrushes, whom
in manners he so much resembled. He was
fierce and masterful from the beginning, and in
a room full of peaceable birds soon became a
tyrant and a bully. He would be helped first,
or make a great outcry about it, and he would
have the best when he was out and could help
himself ; no one should bathe if he chose to do
so, and no one — under any circumstances —
should alight on his cage. All these notions he
carried out : the habit of having his own way
grew upon him, as it does upon people, until he
constituted himself general peace-maker, on the
principle that " he would have peace if he had
to fight for it." The slightest difference of
opinion between two birds would bring out his
voice in a loud, authoritative " Tut ! tut ! tut ! "
while his chin feathers stood erect, his tail and
wings jerked excitedly, and his whole plumage

144: TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM.

rustled violently. In jerking his tail he alter-
nately spread it like a fan, and closed it up sud-
denly, while his wings were slightly lifted from
his side and brought down sharply.

This thrush was emphatically a bird of one
idea ; if a finger w^as pointed at him, he be-
came so absorbed in the contemplation of that
phenomenon that one could easily advance the
other hand and seize him in it before he no-
ticed it. He did not much care if he was
caught, for he feared people no more than
birds, seemed to have no doubt of his ability
to protect himself, and would bite with a good
will. He could not be driven from any posi-
tion he wished to retain ; it was often neces-
sary to fairly push him away.

This thrush's encounter with the looking-
glass was of the same fierce nature as all his
deeds. He began by pecking, and ended by
beating himself against the figure in the glass,
fighting and snapping and scolding so violently
that he was in danger of bodily injury, and the
glass was covered. He was a blusterer about
the cages of other birds, and his offensive note
was a sharp clatter of the bill, like a pair of
castanets. He always reminded me in his man-
ner of a big boy who likes to threaten a little
one, and frighten him with the thought that
fee is about to annihilate him. Exactly in that

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 145

way this bird behaved. His encounters with a
lively mocking-bird of not half his strength,
and his final subjugation by force of mind
alone, are elsewhere related.

A most curious little drama and exhibition
of bird-character occurred between two cana-
ries, or rather three; and although it did not
come under my own eye, it was reported to me
by a careful observer, who did watch it from
beginning to end. Two singers belonging to
two ladies in the same house hung beside a
window in their cages — one a small affair of
gilt, only large enough for a single bird, the
other much larger and plainer. The owner of
the large cage thought it would be nice to give
her bird a mate, reasoning as do matchmakers
who meddle with human affairs : " He has a
large house, a living secured, — let us get him
a wife ! " No sooner said than done (in the
case of the canary). Straightway a visit was
made to the shops, a bride bought, and placed in
his cage.

The new-comer was expected, oi course, to
accept the goods the gods provide and be
thankful, but she proved to have opinions of
her own. She resented being set off to any-
body ; she noted the gay bachelor across the
way ; possibly she observed his gorgeous cage ;
at any rate, she plainly decided to have a choice

10

146 TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM.

in the matter. She began by a sweet call, so
loud that even the human listeners understood
it was not meant for her intended spouse in the
cage with her. The bird appreciated it at
once, as was evident. He had been charmed
to receive her, but that call and the not unwill-
ing answer from the opposite neighbor infuri-
ated him, and he scolded roundly in true,
stupid, human fashion, reproaching, instead of
trying to win. All the more she turned her
attentions to the gay vis-d-vis, who answered
her calls with joyous replies and much fine
singing.

Now began a most curious exhibition of jeal-
ousy on the part of the unfortunate master of
the large cage, which was carried on for several
days. When she took much notice of the
stranger over the way, her legal spouse resented
it with scolding, blustering, and refusing her at
night a foothold on the favorite perch, even
pecking her if she attempted to go upon it. If
she had been tolerably good during the day, he
would allow her to partake of his perch, al-
ways, however, gently pushing her to the end
farthest away from his rival, and drawing very
closely up to her, between her and the enemy.
This state of things lasted some days, and no
human hand was raised to settle the trouble,
for no one suspected the depths of feeling in

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 147

those little hearts, nor dreamed of the tragedy
which would ensue when matters came to a
crisis. That time speedily arrived, and whether
madam decided to procure her own divorce, or
whether he went mad with rage and jealousy,
was not known. The facts are that one morn-
ing both birds in the larger cage were found in
a terrible, almost dying condition, had appar-
ently been fighting for hours, and feathers were
scattered all over the carpet, far from the cage,
by the violence of their contest. One did die,
— the broken-hearted owner of the cage, whose
wooing had been so sad a failure. The other
victim of this " marriage of convenience " (may
we not call it ?) never fully recovered, but lived
for some months, and, although never caged,
paid no further attention to the tenant of the
gilded mansion over the way, and lost her life
at last by an accident.

I can easily believe this little history to be
true, because I have watched more than one
case in my own study, where human and bird
wills differed on this point. One pair that re-
sented human interference were English gold-
finches. He was a bachelor of most cheerful
spirits, entirely satisfied with life and his sur-
roundings in the bird-colony, and she came in a
stranger. At first he was not very hospitable,
received her with a sort of low hissing sound,

148 TRANSIENT GUESTS IN TEE BIRD-ROOM.

pointing his bill at lier, with legs very far
apart, and reminding me ludicrously of one of
Du Maurier's caricatures, where the husband
has on his most " lord-and-mastery " air. She
was not at all in awe of him, however, and an-
swered him in the same style.

Considering himself master in his own house,
the goldfinch insisted on his prerogatives, first
helping of everything, and always the best.
She did not fight about it ; she seemed satisfied
to accept what was left, and to eat at the sec-
ond table. But as usual, he grew tyrannical ;
he would not allow her to eat out of the seed-
dish at all ; she must be contented with what
he scattered. Even to this she mutely sub-
mitted W'ith the air of not caring enough about
it to quarrel. The trouble between them with
regard to his singing is spoken of elsewhere in
this book. After the disagreement about liis
musical abilities, it appeared to occur to the
heretofore amiable little spouse that it was time
for her to rebel ; he had become unendurable.
She therefore deliberately announced her inten-
tions by establishing herself in the seed-dish,
and calmly but resolutely driving him away at
the point of the beak. It surprised him, but
like bullies of a larger size he gave in upon the
first opposition, and it was good for him. It
made him modest and well-behaved, and life
went on more harmoniouslv after that.

TRANSIENT GUESTS IN THE BIRD-ROOM. 149

Another thing tlie goldfinch learned from his
mate, beside good manners, and that was to
bathe. He had always contented himself with
wetting his bill and passing it through his plu-
mage, and he was astonished when she went
into the watesr and splashed. He stood on the
edge of the dish, circling round it in the great-
est excitement. I could not tell whether h^
feared for her safety, or grudged her having so
much pleasure out of a thing he did not appre-
ciate. Whatever his motive, she plainly ad-
vised him to attend to his own affairs, and spat-
tered as long as she liked. Every day this
curious performance was repeated, till at the
end of a week he actually roused his courage
enough to go in and try it for himself. His
pride and delight were droll to see. He called
to me, sang little snatches of song while in the
water, and splashed nearly every drop out of
the dish ; and although his transports moder-
ated after a while, he has never from that day,
which was four years ago, neglected to take a
most thorough bath.

This couple, however, proved to be incom-
patible ; every question that arose had to be
quarreled over and settled at the point of the
bill, and for the sake of peace the little stranger
was given away into a new home.

A RUFFIAN IN FEATHERS.

" Death, rude and cruel, intervenes in this book in the full
current of life, but as a passing accident only ; life does not
the less continue." — Michelet.

X.

A RUFFIAN IN FEATHERS.

We all know Shakespeare's opinion of the
" man that hath no music in himself," although
we usually misquote it. If this be a fair judg-
ment of the human race, how much more justly
may it be said of the bird, to whoui we look
for the sweetest harmonies of nature !

I do not think his best friend will claim that
the common house sparrow has the soul of music
in him ; certainly not if he has ever been wak-
ened in a glorious dawn by the indescribable
jangle of harsh sounds which constitutes this
bird's only morning hymn, at the hour when
every bird in the woods, from the noble singers
of the thrush family down to the least chipping
sparrow, is greeting the new day in his most
musical fashion.

The matin song of the house sparrow, in
which he indulges unsparingly, being of similar
quality, harmonizes perfectly with the jarring
sounds of man's contriving; the clatter of ironr

154 A RUFFIAN IN FEATEER8.

shod wheels over city pavements, the "war-
whoop of the ferocious milkman, the unearthly
cries of the venders, and above all the junk-
man's pandemonium of " bells jangled, out of
tune." The harshest cries of our native birds,
if not always musical in themselves, seem at
least to accord in some way with sounds of na-
ture. The house sparrow alone is entirely dis-
cordant, — the one bird without a pleasing note,
whose very love-song is an unmusical squeak.
Nor is his appearance more interesting than his
voice, and on looking into his manners and cus-
toms we discover most unlovely characteristics.

One cannot help watching bird-life, however
ignoble, which goes on within sight. Sparrows
have long been my neighbors, and I have ob-
served many phases of their life, — combats,
brawls, forcible divorce, and persecution of the
unfortunate. A day or two ago I saw a mur-
der "most foul," and now, while indignation
stirs my blood, I will chronicle the rufl&an's
monstrous deeds.

Near my window is a Norway spruce, which
this spring I regretted to see selected by a pair
of sparrows for one of their clumsy, straggling
nests, to which they brought rubbish of all
sorts and colors, from hay of the street to car-
pet ravelings from the spring house-cleaning,
till the tree was greatly disfigured. I do not

A RUFFIAN IN FEATUER8, 155

know how many broods have been raised there,
but early in July I was attracted by cries of
infant distress, mingled with harsh parental
scolding. On looking out I saw great excite-
ment m the spruce : the mother hopping about
with an air of anxiety ; the father scolding his
loudest, and making constant raids to drive
away intrusive neighbors who collected in the
next tree. An opera-glass brought the scene
near, and I saw at once the cause of the trouble.
A nestling had entangled one foot in the edge
of the nfet, and hung head downwards, calling
loudly for help. The mother was evidently try-
ing to coax him to " make an effort," while the
stern father was uttering dire threats if he did
not conduct himself in a more becoming man-
ner. The poor sparrowling struggled bravely,
but every attempt ended in failure, and the lit-
tle fluffy body drooped more wearily after each
trial.

A life is a life, if it is but a sparrow's, and
so greatly were my sympathies aroused that I
would have dispatched human help to the scene
of the accident ; but the tree was tall and slen-
der, and the only available climber was a young
gentleman, who would laugh to scorn the de-
mand. Nothing could be done but watch the
movements of the birds.

The mother perched on a lower branch and

156 A RUFFIAN IN FEATHERS.

stood quiet, evidently aware that her lord and
master would settle the matter. That choleric
individual made one or two attempts to aid the
youngster, seizing him by his wide-open mouth,
and pulling so violently that I thought he would
dismember him. All was of no avail. Neigh-
bors crowded nearer ; the tree was loaded with
interested spectators, and the father grew more
and more irritated, till at last he seemed sud-
denly seized with an irresistible frenzy. With
the harshest " chur-r-r " of which he was capa-
ble, he pounced upon that unfortunate infant,
seizing him by the throat, burying his bill in
his breast, shaking him as a dog would shake a
rat, and in less than thirty seconds dragged him
from his hold and dropped him to the ground,

— a dead bird.

I was horrified, and so were the other spec-
tators. Once during the operation the mother
had tried to interfere, and was told unmistak-
ably to " mind her own business." Several
times the male audience attempted to take pirt,

— whether for or against the victim I could
only guess, — but were as summarily disposed
of. That little incarnate fury was the tyrant
of the moment, and worked his own wicked
will to the end.

As soon as the tragedy ended every bird dis-
appeared, and the tree was completely deserted,

A RUFFIAN IN FEATHERS. 157

as though accursed. The murderer alone did
not leave the neighborhood, but strutted back
and forth, on an ebn which overlooked the
scene of his crime ; fluttering his wings, calling
loud defiance to all the world, in the gi^eatest
excitement for hours. Were there no otlier
youngsters in the nest? Were they left to
starve? And where was the mother? As to
the first query, I could not be sure. Once dur-
ing the fray I thought I saw something drop
from the nest, and I was obliged to conclude
that if there had been another it had fallen vic-
tim to a passing cat.

In an hour or two the mother came back, as
if to put her house in order and resume her
duties, but her spouse had other designs.
Whether he resented her interference with his
lordly will, or whether the late unpleasantness
was attributed to her because of defective train-
ing or untidy house-building, — whatever the
cause, the fact was patent that he had made up
his mind to divorce the partner of his sorrows.
She appreciated his intention, as was evident
from the cautious way in which she approached,
looking around for him, and stealing to the
nest, as it were, but was resolved to make every
effort to induce in him a better spirit and mol-
lif}' his rage. She did not seem greatly grieved,
nor in the least angry. Slie never opened her
mouth to answer back the torrent of reproaches

158 A RUFFIAN IN FEATHERS.

with which he greeted her, but instantly retired
before his fierce onskiught. Not once did that
fiery spirit go to the ground for food, or lose
sight of his nest. Most of the time he perched
on a branch of the ehn, where he could over-
look the spruce and be ready for intruders ;
but occasionally he went by his usual alighting-
places to the empty home, clearing out beak-
fuls of small downy feathers, and apparently
setting his house in order.

But the strange little bird-drama, suggestive,
alas, of some phases of human passion, was not
yet concluded. Many times during the day
the divorced spouse came near, as if to survey
her late home, and see if her lord was in a
more amiable mood ; but she found him utterly
remorseless, ever on guard to repel all attempts
to " make up." When at last, after the long
hours of night had calmed his savage temper,
his mood did change, it was not to her that he
turned for sympathy. He would not forgive,
but he had no notion of remaining a pining
widower. Before evening the next day he
went a-wooing, and there appeared upon the
spruce-tree, with the evident purpose of exam-
ining the home and assuming possession, a
dainty young bird. It had taken that disrepu-
table sparrow less than thirty-six hours to kill
his baby, divorce his wife, and woo and bring
home a bride !

A RUFFIAN IN FEATHERS. 159

It may be a matter of surprise that one can
distinguish between birds, but it is not at all
difficult when their habits are watched closely.
I knew the new wife from the old one in two
ways : first, the old one, after the labors of
bringing up a brood or two, was worn and rag-
ged, while the new-comer was fresh as a daisy,
and fluffy and young-looking as a nestling ;
second, she approached the nest in a different
way. It is true of sparrows, however it may
be with other birds, that each one has his spe-
cial alighting-places, — a certain twig where he
first settles, and certain others on which, as a
flight of steps, he invariably proceeds to his
nest. The mother of the dead infant always
came to the home from the right side, and her
grim tyrant does so still, but the bride selected
a convenient series of twigs on the left side.

It is now four or five days since the crime
was committed, and, although the new spouse
is perfectly at home and settled, peace, even
to the extent that* a sparrow enjoys it, is still
a stranger to the spruce-tree nest. I think it
is haunted by the discarded mate. Certainly
a sparrow, that I have no doubt is she, comes
to the neighborhood, and. scolds the meek-look-
ing bride and her spouse in most savage fashion.
No one resents her performance, and after a
moment she goes away.

A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TEEE.

" Though ignorant of their language, it was not difficult for
us to perceive that they differed among themselves." — ]\Ir-

CHELET.

XI.

A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TREE.

OxE of my windows looks into a large yard,
with trees so thick that when the foliage is out
I cannot see the street, from which the roar of
vehicles alone reminds me that I am in the
closely-built city. The birds are fond of this
pleasant green nook, and here I have often
studied their ways.

Early in May of last year I had the good
fortune to see what was to me then a new
phase of sparrow-life, — a domestic quarrel end-
ing in separation, and a wooing ending in mar-
riage. The scene of the drama was a home es-
tablished in a hole in the trunk of a maple-tree
twenty feet from my window. It is where a
branch has been taken off, and the opening is
perhaps three inches long and two wide.

In the three years I have watched it I have
felt peculiar interest in that nest, from its cozy
situation, and have taken more notice of the
little housekeepers than of any who occupy

164 A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE TREE.

rooms in the pagodas, palaces, and balconied
cottages nailed up in the trees around us. In
the spring, house-cleaning and new furnishing
began, as usupI, in the most amicable way.
There was an embarrassment of riches in mate-
rials, for, after the young pair had collected
enough to fill half a dozen nests at least, they
discovered a treasure somewhere in the neigh-
borhood, and, throwing out that already in use,
they labored industriously in bringing great
beakfuls of white feathers, such as are used in
pillows, and everything seemed prosperous and
harmonious.

But one morning, upon taking my usual seat
after breakfast, I saw with surprise that there
was trouble in the maple-tree family. The
cock sat on a twig outside the door, puffed out
like a ball, scolding and chattering in his harsh-
est tones, while nothing was to be seen of the
hen. Indeed, for some time I could not tell
whether the quarrel was with her, or with some
intruder, for through the whole affair which
followed she never opened her mouth to answer
him, nor apparently paid the slightest attention
to all his blustering.

It was curious to watch him ; he would bus-
tle up to the door, spread his tail, rattle the
feathers of his wings, and shake all over, as if
furious with rage ; then he would draw back,

A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TREE. 165

hop to another branch which approached the
door in a slanting direction, and beginning at
the upper end glide down for perhaps a foot
with imperceptible motion of his feet, quivering
all over, and constantly calling in a loud harsh
voice, as though daring or commanding her to
come out. This had gone on for a long time,
and still she refused to show her head, when a
thought seemed to strike him. He flew away
as though not intending to return, but silently
perched on a twig half way around the trunk,
where he could not be seen from the door. His
calls had ceased, and he was evidently hiding,
ready to pounce upon her. This seemed not
quite to his mind, however, for he could not see
the door ; so he took his position on the trunk
itself, a little above the nest, where the lost
branch had left a protuberance. Here he could
hold on, with difficulty, and here he stayed in
silence, looking earnestly at the door of his
house till madam appeared and quietly hopped
on to a neighboring twig, as calm and unruffled
as a summer morning. She began to arrange
her feathers with utmost deliberation, but at
the first movement of her angry spouse she
darted into the nest again. Then he stormed
violently, paraded before the door in his most
insulting manner, stretched his neck, and fairly
made faces at her, opening his mouth, and look-
ing as though he would devour her.

166 A TRAGEDY IN TEE MAPLE-TREE.

Still the little wife refused to be bullied into
a fight, and after a while the small assailant
was obliged to go to the ground for food to sus-
tain the strength on which his passion was
drawing so severely. As soon as he was gone
she came out, and after arranging her feathers
a moment coolly flew down for her own break-
fast. With opera-glass in hand I now watched
with deepest interest. No sooner would the
rustle of his wings be heard, returning, than
like a brown streak she rushed in ahead of him,
not stopping to alight as usual, but dashing in
on the wing. At this his anger was fearful.
He sometimes alighted on the threshold, as if
to defy her, but suddenly his wings fluttered,
and he jerked away, as though she had seized
his foot. He then returned to a perch, and re-
sumed his former proceedings. These actions
were kept up the whole day. I could not watch
them every moment, but I looked frequently,
and always found the contest proceeding in the
same way. At bed-time she was in the nest,
and he went away.

The next morning the struggle was still pro-
gressing, with a difference. The hen had be-
come more bold, or more careless, and the cock
more desperate. She would go out and leave
the nest, and let him come home and find it
empty. Now was his chance, if he wished to

A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TREE. 167

seize the citadel ; but that did not seem to be
his object. He stood on a branch before the
door, stretched his neck to look in, even some-
times alighted on the steps, but never once en-
tered. He seemed to intend to drive his mate
away, and prevent her from returning. To
this end, apparently, he seated himself so near
the door that he could not fail to seize her if
she tried to pass in.

For a time the plotter was all attention ; not
a rustle but he heard, not a moving leaf but he
saw it, and was on the alert. Now appeared
much cunning on the part of that imperturba-
ble dame. Not a sign of her could be seen, not
a sound heard ; she might be a mile away ; till,
growing careless, he turned to give his feathers
a peck, when instantly, from some hiding-place
in the tree, she swept around and into the door.
Then followed a wild flutter of wings, and he
flung himself in transport of rage against the
entrance, but she was safely within, and he had
a wholesome respect for her ability to defend
herself in her own nest. Even when he stood
in the very doorway, as he did later, she man-
aged to surprise him, and dash in over his head.

I wondered that the neighbors did not inter-
fere, as sparrow neighbors are apt to do ; and
once or twice on this day a bird did approach
the scene of the trouble, perching a few feet

168 A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TREE.

away, as if to see what was going on, but the
master of the house flew at him so viciously
that he at once retired.

On the afternoon of the second day he began
to try stratagem. After a longer absence than
usual he returned with a young-looking hen,
who seated herself demurely in plain sight, a
foot or two from the door. This did not please
the dame ; she thrust her head out for the first
time, and gave the stranger a piece of her
mind that caused her to fly away, although the
irate husband " talked back " to his wife in the
most insulting way. Then he seated himself
before the door and began to call ; a loud, pe-
culiar ci'y, quite different from that he had
been addressing to his mate. In a few moments
two young hens came near, and perched in
sight. Then he blustered before the nest, and
scolded more violently than ever, as if to show
that he was master of his own house ; but ex-
cept putting her head out and making a few re-
marks to the visitors, the spouse did nothing.

The next stratagem was amusing. I suppose
the little tormentor thought his victim must be
hungry, for he flew away, and returned, labori-
ously carrying a piece of bread as big as his
head. With this he perched in his usual place,
and, instead of eating it himself, deliberately
dropped it to the ground, evidently to tantalize

A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TREE. 169

her. As plainly as tliough he said it, he ex-
pected her to dash out after it ; but when she
did not, he scorned to touch it, and the neigh-
bors disposed of the morsel. Twice he tried
this manoeuvre, and both times unsuccess-
fully.

While things were at this stage, I was, to my
great regret, obliged to be absent a few hours,
and when I returned the difference was nearly
settled ; the master was going in and out of the
nest freely, and the mistress was nowhere to be
seen. He seemed to be cleaning house, in
preparation for a new regime. He was bringing
out the feathers he had so carefully carried in,
and scattering them to the winds. It was curi-
ous to see the struggle between avarice and re-
venge, in the longing looks he gave them as
they fluttered to the ground ; sometimes the
temptation was irresistible, and a feather that
was really too nice was pursued, and returned
to the homestead.

Twice during this performance the hen came
back for a moment and perched on the end of
a branch three feet from her late residence, but
he flew at her fiercely, and she at once left. It
did not seem that she was kept away by force,
but she had the air of thinking " the game not
worth the candle." She appeared not the least
angry, nor even cast down, nor a feather ruf-

170 A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TREE.

fled, while liis plumage was in such a state that
he looked like a vagabond, or bird -tramp.
When she wished to depart, and her curiosity
about his doings was satisfied, she flew gayly
away, descended to the ground, and employed
herself in gathering her food with her usual
calmness. Of course, the only way I could tell
her from a thousand other sparrows was by his
treatment of her.

But now the house was swept and garnished,
the victor, with unseemly haste, devoted him-
self to the task of wooing a bride. He had no
idea of keeping bachelor's hall, and possibly his
fancy for another had been the cause of the
trouble. After a short absence he brought
back a gay young creature, brighter in color
and somewhat smaller than the discarded wife.
It was interesting to see his coaxing, there was
so much of what we call human nature in it.
He stood by the door and called her quite gen-
tly, while she, daintily and with many pauses,
hopped nearer and nearer, till just when an-
other hop or two would have brought her to
the door she suddenly flew away, and he after
her. Soon they returned, and the same scene
was repeated. This time, may be, with many
pauses of affected indifference, and looks of in-
tense interest directed to some other part of the
world, she would get as far as the door of the

A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TREE. 171

house, even perhaps look in an instant before
she flew away again. After a little he went
into the nest himself and called. She would
alight on the step, hesitate, then turn her eyes
to every side of the horizon to see that no en-
emy was in sight, and at last, after getting as
far as this several times and flying away again,
she entered, when instantly he came out, fol-
lowed by her open bill. She had driven him
out of his own home ! Evidently, in the spar-
row family, the home is the wife's castle.

But the suitor did not object. Apparently
all he wanted was to have her assume command
of the mansion, for while she examined her
proposed new home he stood before the door,
swelled, shook himself out, twisted, and bowed
to her in a most grotesque way, all the time
calling. Soon she came out, and after pluming
herself a moment, flew off. Then the whole
scene was reenacted, except that after she had
so far committed herself as to enter the nest he
no longer thought it necessary to follow her
when she flew away. He stayed to guard the
door, and in a short time called her back. After
an hour of this sort of coquetting the thing was
settled, and she accepted her home and her
lover. He smoothed down his ruffled coat,
they settled into a most exemplary couple, and

172 A TRAGEDY JN THE MAPLE-TREE.

the nest in the maple-tree was once more the
abode of peace and quietness.

The thing that interested me, and that I tried
in vain to find out, was, What became of that
outraged little spouse turned out of her home ?

TROUBLE IN THE HONEYSUCKLES.

Then smiling to myself I said, —
How like are men and birds ! "

Whittieb,

XII.
TROUBLE IN THE HONEYSUCKLES.

A LITTLE later in the same year I had the
rare opportunity of watching from beginning to
end another drama in sparrow-life. The first
intimation I had of trouble was loud and per-
sistent chirping, a cry of distress. For some
time I could not get sight of the bird, but just
at evening, when I was looking closely at a
pear-tree out of which the sound came, a cock-
sparrow flew out, alighting on the peak of a
low roof in my sight, and resumed at once the
very sound I was in search of. He was the
one in trouble, and the reason was plain — he
had lost a leg.

He stayed on the roof some time, uttering at
short intervals the pitiful cry, and at last, flying
to the pear-tree again, established himself in an
angle formed by two twigs starting horizontally
from the same point. Here he settled himself
comfortably after some fluttering, and here he
remained.

176 TROUBLE IN THE HONEYSUCKLES.

The first thing in the morning, I heard again
the sorrowful cry, and hastened to the window
to see how he appeared, and if possible find
out where he lived. He had left the tree and
seated himself on the ledge over a false window
plainly visible from my chair. The sill, the
upper ledge and the edge of the roof overhead
were the scene of the whole drama that fol-
lowed. From his at-home manner in that spot
I concluded that he lived near, for I have no-
ticed that sparrows usually have a particular
place on which to alight before going into the
nest. They perch a moment, look around, flirt
the tail and then dash into the house.

While I watched, a hen-sparrow alighted
near the sufferer, scolding harshly, upon which
he flew away, and she followed. He alighted
upon the pear-tree ; she perched near him and
talked to him, not in the scolding tone that
had driven him away from the ledge, but in a
remonstrating or arguing way. He answered
her in a low conversational chirp, but when she
drew nearer he again took wing.

This performance continued all day. The
wife did not appear to be angry or trying to
drive him away, but neither did she seem to
sympathize with his troubles. It looked as if
she was urging him to do something, I could
not make out what. He kept almost entirely to

TROUBLE IN THE HONEYSUCKLES. 177

the ledge and the sill, and now I saw that they
lived in a thick clump of honeysuckle vines
that ran over a doorway not more than three
feet from the sill where he had taken his posi-
tion. Once or twice he entered the honey-
suckles, when there ensued a great chattering,
and he came out.

It was pitiful to see the poor little creature,
and hear his loud cry all day. He lay flat
on his breast, his head often drooped, and I
thought he was dying. Every little while the
hen came to visit him, alighting near him, some-
times quietly talking, sometimes scolding, on
which he would fly away. This day also I saw
that the hen carried food into the honeysuckles,
and I concluded she had babies to feed, and per-
haps her remonstrances with him had been that
he did not help. Evidently she had a good deal
on her hands, hungry babies and a disabled
spouse.

He was very awkward on his one leg, could
not stand up a moment, and when he moved
used his wings violently. Several times he fell
off the window sill, but caught himself by
means of his wings and flew back. Much of
the time he lay with his bill open, and looked
so weak I thought he could not live another
day. But the next morning a new emotion
came to brace him up, inducing him to do what
Mrs. Dombey failed in — " make an effort."

178 TROUBLE IN THE HONEYSUCKLES.

Madam evidently made up her mind to shake
off a useless partner, and early in the day a
rival appeared on the scene. The cock who
assumed this despicable role was a tumbled-up
sort of a fellow, who looked as thougli he needed
a wife to keep his coat in order, and I had my
doubts whether that little hen had made a wise
choice. He alighted on the sill, One-leg being
on the ledge above. Here he planted himself
in a dogged way, in a crouching attitude, and
called, though not with the least spirit. His
feathers were ruffled, not bristled up in anger
or in fighting style ; and from his whole appear-
ance I could not resist the conviction that he
was a hen-pecked coward ordered to go out and
fight, and dutifully, but not heartily, obeying.

The knowing bird on the ledge evidently de-
spised him. He answered him call for call,
and louder than his challenger, but did not
deign to attack him till the ragged-looking fel-
low attempted to enter the honeysuckles, when
instantly the li'ttle hero flew furiously at him
and he retired. Then madam came out and
scolded her spouse, and he returned to his ledge
to rest and get his breath.

After a while another candidate for her favor
arrived upon the sill. This was a different
looking bird, for much alike as are sparrows
there are variations of manner and looks readily

TROUBLE IN THE HONEYSUCKLES. 179

seen on close examination. The second wooer
was as bright and full of life as one could be.
He looked saucily at the unfortunate he had
come to cut out, bristled up and delivered his
call in a loud, defiant tone, and was ready to
battle at once for the home in the honeysuckles.
This fellow too was a more formidable foe in
the eyes of the poor little cock on the ledge.
He did not answer his challenge ; he crouched
low against the house ; his head sank, and it
seemed that his last moments had arrived.

So perhaps thought the rival, for he flew
boldly into the vines. That roused the droop-
ing hero. In defense of his hearthstone he
would rise almost from the dead. He flew in-
stantly and drove the intruder away, returning
at once to his post. After a little, madam her-
self alighted on the sill with her suitor in full
view of her despised spouse ; but he put them
to rout like a whirlwind.

On this day he took possession of a new
stand, on the corner of the roof, where he could
overlook the window and also the honeysuckle
vines on both sides. There he remained a long
time calling, and driving away tliose who pre-
sumed to interfere with his domestic affairs.
This was an exciting day about the honey-
suckles, full of challenges, scoldings, furious at-
tacks and probably, too, suffering, for the little

180 TROUBLE IN THE HONEYSUCKLES.

hero often seemed exhausted and utterly un-
able to endure his accumulated calamities.

Once, toward night, madam alighted in the
usual place with one who was plainly a lover.
He began to puff out his feathers and assume
the airs of a wooer, when down from his post
on the roof came the avenging husband and
drove him away in a twinkling. The hen did
not fly, however, and her spouse alighted near
her. She began to scold, but he tried to make
love to her. " Come," said his manner, " let 's
make up ; I shall not always be so helpless as
now." But every time he tried to approach
her she turned her bill toward him, talking
vigorously. " You 're a good-for-nothing," one
could almost hear her say; "you'll neither help
me yourself nor let any one else, and here I 'm
nearly worked to death and the babies like to
starve." Then he coaxed again, but she re-
fused him harshly and flew to the nest.

This curious scene took place toward evening,
but the next morning things had changed. He
was better and brighter everyway, could get
about much more easily on his one leg, and I
saw no more of rivals. He went in and out of
the honeysuckles quite often. Sometimes he
was greeted by a scolding and sometimes by
the shrill chirping of the little ones, but he
went as often as he chose. Under this new as-

TROUBLE IN THE HONEYSUCKLES. 181

pect of things he began to woo back his mate,
and after a while she came out on the window
sill in amiable mood, and great love-making
went on. Evening closed on restored peace
and harmony in the little household.

The next morning the little hero was able
to hop upon the greenhouse roof for crumbs,
standing up pertly on his single leg, though his
movement was a queer one-sided sort of jerk,
which gave him a most comical air. Now his
spouse accompanied him to the ground and the
pear-tree, as do all decorous sparrow wives, and
before noon both devoted themselves to the
charming task of teaching the little ones to fly.

Often during the day I saw one little fussy
sparrowling squatted on the window sill which
had been the scene of his papa's suffering and
pain, another on the greenhouse roof, both
shrieking for food, for help, for the world to
see how bravely they got on, while the busy
mamma coaxed them in vain to try another
flight, alternately encouraging with a crumb or
reproving with a slight peck on the head, and
the one-legged hero — his troubles now happily
at an end — perched on the edge of the roof,
peering over with greatest interest at the pretty
scene.

THE BIRD OF THE STREET.

"* Dusky sparrows in a crowd.
Diving, darting northward free,
Suddenly betook them all,
Every one to his hole in the wall,
Or his niche in the apple-tree."

Emebson.

XIII.

THE BIRD OF THE STREET.

As I said, the sparrow is a domestic tyrant,
brooking no opposition. I have never observed
a case in which the hen had her own way. He
is so great a bully, so self-willed and violent,
that, whatever the cause of disagreement, he
holds out with dogged obstinacy till he gets his
will. In one case there was difference of opin-
ion as to the site for a nest ; he wishing to oc-
cupy an empty cottage of man's providing,
while she, with finer instinct, had decided upon
a charming crotch in an evergreen tree. At
first she opposed him strongly, scattering the
material he brought, throwing the choicest bits
to the winds, while he stormed and scolded,
and — brought more. In the intervals between
thwarting his plans, she would accumulate ma-
terials in the chosen tree. He scorned to touch
them ; he simply ignored her designs, and pro-
ceeded with obstinacy almost sublime to bring,
and bring, and bring, till she was worn out,
gave up, and accepted the cottage at last.

186 THE BIRD OF THE STREET.

The tree in which took place the murder al-
ready narrated was the scene in another sea-
son of a curious proceeding. It seemed to be
the starting of the young family out in the
world for themselves ; and whether it is usual
to have so serious a time over that matter and
I have not chanced to notice it, or whether the
family was specially self-willed, does not ap-
pear. The facts are as follows. Attracted to
my window by the ordinary sparrow outcry, I
saw a motherly-looking hen sparrow in great
excitement, blustering, fluttering her wings, and
scolding loudly, while four or five sparrowlings,
completely feathered and able to fly, seemed to
be the objects of her wrath. She rushed after
one, making the most hostile demonstrations,
but when she came so near as to be dangerous
it simply hopped to another branch, not in the
least concerned. Turning her attention to a
second she pursued it in the same way, and in
the same indifferent fashion it avoided her, but
did not appear alarmed.

After long watching of this sort of warfare
I concluded it was her own brood, and that,
desiring to nest again, she was trying to con-
vince them that they must seek a residence for
themselves. But plainly, also, the youngsters,
accustomed to tender motherly care, could not
get into their fluffy brown heads that she could

THE BIRD OF THE STREET. 187

possibly be serious, and really intend to turn
her own babies out into the cold world. They
were very pretty. I did not know how bright
a young sparrow is before it is soiled with
the dust of the street. They were beautifully
marked in rich golden brown with a light
shade of the same color, the breast was nearly
white, the plumage soft and fresh, and the head
of particularly graceful shape and every way
attractive.

All the afternoon the sparrow mother worked
at this business of disposing of her family cares,
but no sooner did she drive away one of her
brood than another returned, even trustingly
following her back when she had chased it to
the next tree ; and at evening I observed that
they all calmly placed themselves on their na-
tive spruce for the night.

All this time the lord of the nest had not ap-
peared, but in the morning he took the field,
and it was evident, from the spirit he showed
in his work, that he intended to put a speedy
end to the affair. His manner was not exactly
what it usually is towards an enemy, though to
be sure it would be hard to proceed against
four in the same way as against one. He as-
sumed his most warlike attitude, feathers bris-
tled up, wings trailing, back bent downward
like a bow, and tail pointed toward the sky.

188 THE BIRD OF THE STREET.

In this absurd style he hopped about the tree,
calling and scolding and making noise enough
for half a dozen birds. Now and then he made
a dive for a little one who came too near, but
most of the time he contented himself with
bluster and a general state of protest against
their impertinence.

As for the youngsters, they were not in the
least alarmed ; they hopped about, and ate and
squabbled within a foot of irate papa. If he
rushed at one, the pursued simply flew to the
other side of the tree. Evidently his threats
were not at all terrifying. It was most curious
to see, because a moment's serious attack would
frighten one of those little ones out of sight.
It was plainly evident that he wanted to drive
them away (probably to make room for an-
other brood, since it was early), yet, after all,
he was proud of their pluck and spirit, and he
could not resist a lurking tenderness for them.

Still, he kept up the appearance of hostility.
Now and then he ran madly down a branch as
though about to annihilate somebody, but no
one happening to be there, no one was hurt.
When one infant did fly before him, he invari-
ably stretched his neck to watch the flight, ap-
parently to see if the little one arrived safely.
It was most interesting to see the struggle be-
tween the fond parent and the inexorable judge
determined to drive them away.

TEE BIRD OF TEE STREET. 189

During his efforts, the mother was watching
the progress of events from a neighboring tree.
Occasionally, when one of the babies alighted
on her side of the evergreen, she flew at it,
and it changed position. It was clear that the
youngsters knew what was expected of them,
but did not choose to accept their fate.

Sometimes the mother alighted on a low
branch, and went up the tree in a spiral course,
driving all the family before her ; but when the
branches began to be uncomfortably small near
the top, or they thought they had gone high
enough, they coolly took wing and all alighted
below the mother, so that she was forced to be-
gin at the beginning again.

In general the young were perfectly silent,
and all the noise came from the parents, but
once or twice a baby cock-sparrow showed
some of the spirit of his papa by " answering
back; " upon which that personage fell upon the
saucy one, who vanished through the branches,
one hardly knew how, showing plainly that he
knew when an attack was serious.

At length, toward the end of the day, the
father of the family perched on a tree overlook-
ing the disputed homestead and began to shake
himself out and put his ruffled plumage in
order. Obviously he felt that his labors were
over and he could rest ; and certainly not a

190 TUE BIRD OF THE STREET.

youngster was in sight. But while I looked,
there was a sudden flutter of wings, and four
little sparrows swept around the corner of the
house and alighted in the old tree. " Oh dear !
here they are again ! " was plainly expressed by
a few harsh notes, a craned neck, and a dis-
couraged pause in his operations.

After the second day the little group of four
was suddenly enlarged to eight or nine, and
I supposed that some other abandoned young-
lings had joined the spruce-tree babies. Wher-
ever they came from, they were as intimate as
one family, chattering softly among themselves,
flying together in a little flock, and all bent on
making that particular tree their headquarters.

For nine days I watched this contest going
on, a little less vigorously as the days went by,
but never quite given up on either side. I
could not see that nesting was begun again,
and I did not notice another brood in the tree
that season. I think the parents were disheart-
ened and made a nest elsewhere. After a few
days of street life the fresh young birds were
dusty as their parents. The neighborly alli-
ance still continued, and the strangers seemed
to adopt the cause of the triumphant babies as
their own.

Often the whole little flock of eight or nine
alighted on the tree, crept to the inner branches

TUE BIRD OF THE STREET. 191

where they were not readily seen, and remained
perfectly silent. Then in a few moments the
old sparrow, who doubtless saw the perform-
ance, pounced upon the tree in a rage, when
suddenly the outer branches blossomed with
young sparrows ready to take flight. Occa-
sionally a saucy youngster perched on a lower
branch and set up an altogether "grown-up"
call. Instantly the " old man " came down
through the branches in hot haste, exactly as
though he felt insulted. Could it be that the
young rogue intended to " mock " the papa ?

Sometimes, during these exciting times, the
mother joined her family on the next tree, and
talked with them in low tone, without anger.
Was it remonstrance for their undutiful be-
havior, or good advice for the future ?

A curious little exhibition of sparrow philos-
ophy was given by two of these young ones,
sitting side by side on a small branch which
sloped sharply toward the trunk. The one
highest on the branch naturally crowded down
against the other, and when it became too un-
comfortable the lower one, instead of fighting,
simply stepped on the back of his brother,
and took the upper place himself. In a few
moments the lower one found himself crowded,
and availed himself of the same method of re-
lieving the discomforts of his position.

192 THE BIRD OF TUE STREET.

The female sparrow is usually a modest lit-
tie soul, as might be expected in one always
" kept down," and so outshrieked by her mate
that she is rarely heard. Next to the tree
which the murderer considers his own is an-
other spruce, which for some reason is very at-
tractive to the hens, who search among the twigs
and take something in their mouths ; whether
insect or part of the vegetable growth I am un-
able to say positively. Whatever it may be, it
has no interest for the masculine sparrow.
There are often as many as a dozen females
there at once, and I have been delighted with
this opportunity to observe them apart from
their obstreperous spouses, who are so self-
assertive that they give their mates no chance at
all. I find that their voices are less harsh than
the male tones. Their chatter among them-
selves is quite soft, as is also their " baby-talk,"
which I hear when a mother has her young
family out. The most pleasing sound I ever
noticed from one of the house-sparrow tribe
was from a solitary female on that tree. She
kept up a continual soliloquy, gentle, almost
sweet. It was not a call ; simply a little talk
with herself.

One of the most familiar habits of this grace-
less bird is his delight in a mob. No sooner
does anything occur to disturb the even tenor

THE BIRD OF THE STREET. 193

of sparrow-life, whether a domestic skirmish,
the first outing of a young family, or some dan-
ger to a nest, than a crowd collects, not merely
as interested spectators, but quite ready and
willing to take a hand in any sport or crime
that is going ; not only a hand, but a voice as
well. Loud cries always announce when a rab-
ble is at work. Whether, as declared by some
observers, they drive away our native birds by
this means I am not sure. I have seen them
annoy the cat-bird, the robin, and the Baltimore
oriole, but in each case they were put to flight
by the native bird ; though no doubt the ex-
perience is suflSciently disagreeable to induce
either of these birds to select a more retired
neighborhood for nest-building. I once noticed
the same tactics successfully applied to a cat
which climbed up among the nests.

Even his courtship is carried on in mob
style. Little combats of half a dozen or more
of sparrows on the ground are a common sight
of our city streets in the spring. Many have
noticed that the belligerents were all males, and
their efforts directed against one female, but
closer watching reveals the motive behind the
action. The noisy, screaming crowd are not
her enemies, they are her lovers ; each one de-
sires her undivided attention, and attempts to
secure it in the only way possible to a rowdy*

13

194 THE BIRD OF THE STREET.

ish fellow like himself, — by violence and rough
demonstration. He struts about in the absurd
sparrow fashion of making love, and finding
that she is not sufficiently impressed he gives
her a savage peck, as if to say, " Look at me ! "
At the same moment a suitor on the other side,
equally anxious to attract her notice, delivers
a similar rude reminder of his presence. This
being their method of wooing, when several
birds set their hearts on the same individual
she has an exceedingly tempestuous time till
she has made her selection, and to a careless
observer it appears as if they had combined to
annihilate her, instead of to offer her the choice
of a mate.

An amusing instance in which the birds were
worsted took place under my eye last summer.
Hearing the usual outcry one morning, I looked
out, and saw a great crowd of sparrows perched
on the branches of a tall maple-tree, shrieking
at the top of their voices, craning their necks,
and hopping ever nearer to one of the houses so
kindly provided for their use. It was not one
of the four-story hotel arrangements with which
we disfigure our trees, but a single cottage,
with room for but one couple, and it was quite
high up in the tree. The excitement centred
around this house, and for a long time I could
not see what was the disturbing cause. Close

THE BIRD OF THE STREET. 195

watching with a glass at length revealed a small
reddish head, with very sharp eyes, occupying
the doorway of the cottage, and after some time
the owner of these features calmly stepped out
on the veranda and showed himself, — a small
red squirrel, with a silver collar, which pro-
claimed him an escaped pet. He looked thin,
with a tail almost as bare as a rat's. He had
evidently not fared well in captivity, and I re-
joiced in his freedom.

But the sparrow world bad decided to eject
him from the neicfhborhood, and faithfullv, with
true sparrow doggedness, they worked at this
problem. No sooner did he appeal' than they
resumed their attack, flying around him, scream-
ing and making quick dashes at him. He was
somewhat disconcerted, and ran up a long
branch, followed by the whole gang, which
grew more bold as he apparently retreated,
dashing ever nearer as though to peck him, but
never actually touching him. While he was
running they were very bold, but the moment
he sat up and faced them they drew off a little,
though they never went quite away. For sev-
eral days not a movement of his escaped their
notice. It was amusing to see how quickly the
smallest stir on his part was announced to the
world. " There he is ! He 's coming out ! "
one could easily understand, and every sparrow

196 THE BIRD OF THE STREET.

within hearing responded by instantly deserting
his business or pleasure, and adding his pres-
ence and cries to the mob.

But the squirrel, finding fruit - trees with
green apples and pears, resolved to stay, and
after a week or two they became so far accus-
tomed to his presence as to be less alarmed,
though they never lost interest in him. His
eating especially seemed to divert and astonish
them. I have seen fifty birds at once hovering
around an evergreen tree, too small to afford
them perching-places far enough from the en-
emy, while he gathered and nibbled the small
cones. When he sat up on a branch, holding
a green pear in his tiny paws, their amusement
knew no bounds. They sat around at a safe
distance, exchanging remarks, in the amiable
manner of some of the human race at the ways
of a foreigner.

The squirrel had by this time resumed his
wild instincts, cared nothing for them, and
would even answer back with a sharp little cry.
He had taken up his summer residence in the
maple-tree cottage, and all through the fall,
while pears hung on the trees of the neglected
yard next ours, he lived in clover. His tail be-
came bushy, his coat grew sleek, and he looked
like a different animal. Still the sparrows at-
tended his every movement, following him like

THE BIRD OF THE STREET. 197

a train of courtiers wherever he went, though
they did not make quite so much noise about it
as at first.

The household became as keenly interested
as the birds in the doings of the pretty fellow.
All through the winter he appeared on the
mild days, running and bounding over the tall
maples. We saw him gather grass and carry
it off in great bundles in his mouth to make a
bed, and after an unusually cold season he spent
part of two days in removing his residence
from an ornamental pile of stones in a neigh-
bor's yard to warmer quarters he had discov-
ered under the house. He had evidently col-
lected a quantity of stores of some sort. No
doubt as soon as spring opened he would vary
his diet with fresh eggs, but as I left the vicin-
ity I did not have opportunity to observe
whether the sparrow family suffered from him,
though I noticed that he had changed his
dwelling to the hole in the maple already de-
scribed as the scene of a family broil.

I did, however, have one more glimpse of the
squirrel quite late in the summer, although at a
distance of half a mile from the scene of the
above-mentioned exploits. Being one day at-
tracted to a window by the familiar sound of a
sparrow turmoil, I saw the birds of the neigh-
borhood repeating the performance I had ob-

198 • THE BIRD OF THE STREET.

served on the first appearance of the little
beast, and a close look revealed the presence of
the red-coated enemy himself, as lively and
bright as ever. There happened to be an un-
broken line of shade-trees from the spot in
which I had first seen him to that in which he
now appeared, and he had probably made the
entire trip without once descending to the
ground.

In their usual pleasing manner of announ-
cing the presence of a visitor, the sparrow's one
day introduced a small owl. It was in Febru-
ary, and most of the trees were bare, but the
queer little fellow had taken refuge in the close
branches of the spruce-tree before my windows.

At first I could not discover the cause of all
the disturbance, fifty or sixty sparrows hopping
about in one tree, and more arriving every
moment, all screaming at the top of their
voices. A close look, however, revealed the
little stranger in soft gray and white, about
eight inches high, — the mottled owl, I think,
— beautiful and fluffy looking, drawn snugly
back against the trunk. During the remainder
of that day, and all of the next, being part of
the time on that tree, and part on a tall leafless
maple across the street, the poor little wanderer
was persecuted by the mobbers, who scarcely
for a moment left him in peace, though, as usual

THE BIRD OF TUE STREET. 199

with them, they confined themselves to threats
and annoyings, while he kept still.

He did not seem to mind their demonstra-
tions so long as they did not actually touch
him. Many times in that thirty-six hours I
looked at his quaint, wise-looking little face, as
it turned this way and that to look with inter-
est at the howling and shrieking rabble about
him, undismayed by the confusion, though it
must have been sadly trying to his peace-loving
soul. But the next morning he was gone, hav-
ing waited till the noisy crowd was asleep, and
then " silently stolen away."

Next to the sparrow's mobbing propensity is
his impudence. Not only will he insist on
sharing the food of chickens and domestic ani-
mals, but he is a common guest at the table of
the great bald eagles in the parks, and does not
disdain the crumbs that fall from the repast of
the polar bear, one touch of whose paw would
flatten him like a wafer.

Perhaps the most saucy thing reported of a
sparrow was witnessed in Brooklyn by a well-
known artist. He was watching a robin hard at
work on the lawn, gathering food for his family,
when he noticed a sparrow, who also seemed in-
terested in the operation. The sparrow looked
on, evidently with growing excitement, while
Dne bit after another was uncovered, till at last

200 THE BIRD OF THE STREET.

a particularly large and attractive grub was
brought to light. This was too much for spar-
row philosophy. He made one dash, snatched
the tempting morsel from the very bill of the
robin, and disappeared before the astounded
bird recovered from his surprise.

With this unparalleled act of impertinence
to a bird big enough to eat him, this true
chronicle of the most unattractive fellow that
wears feathers shall close.

"THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS.'

Beloved of children, bards and spring,

O birds, your perfect virtues bring, —

Your song, your forms, your rhytlimic flight,

Your manners for the heart's delight ;

Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof.

Here weave your chamber weather-proof.

Forgive our harms, and condescend

To man, as to a lubber friend.

And, generous, teach his awkward race

Courage and probity and grace ! "

Emerson.

XIV.
"THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS.''

A WELL-KNOWN French man of letters wrote
a book, nearly thirty years ago, with the ex-
press object to " reveal the bird as soul, to show
that it is a person," in the hope of diminishing
the enormous slaughter for purposes of personal
adornment, of ministering to our appetites, add-
ing to our collections, or, worst of all, gratify-
ing our love of murder, pure and simple, by
whatever name we choose to dignify the taking
of life for our own amusement. To this noble
man's effort every lover of birds, for higher
uses than to put in the stomach or on the shelf,
should add his chronicle, however unpretend-
ing.

It is a mystery how men with hearts tender
to suffering can be so carried away by the ex-
citement of the hunt as to lose sight of the ter-
ror and pain of the victim. Many hunters have
confessed to a return to their better selves the
moment the chase was won. In what does this

204 ''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:'

short madness differ from the sudden rage
which impels one to lift his hand against the
life of man, merely a (should be) nobler game?
It seems even more strange that a gentle wo-
man can endure the beautiful plumage of a del-
icate winged creature, whose sweet life of song
and joy was rudely cut short by brutal men
that the poor dead body might shine among her
laces. For those who are willing to gratify
their palate at the cost of so much beauty and
music there is nothing to be said, — they can-
not be reached. Not until man has outgrown
the barbarism of nourishing his body at the ex-
pense of his soul can we hope to touch those
who eat birds. It is sad enough to turn our
murderous weapons against the gentle ox that
trusts us, the innocent - faced sheep, and the
honest-eyed calf, but to rob the world of an in-
spiring robin or a rollicking bobolink, for the
small bits of flesh under their feathers, is too
pitiful.

" Open your eyes to the evidence," says
Michelet. " Throw aside your prejudice, your
traditional and derived opinions. Dismiss your
pride, and acknowledge a kindred in which there
is nothing to make one ashamed. What are
these? They are your brothers."

The following notes are based upon several
years' study of birds enjoying the freedom of a

''THESE ARE YOUR BROTUERSr 205

large room, without attempting to tame them,
further than, by letting alone, to inspire confi-
dence and dispel fear.

The most noticeable thing about birds is
their individuality ; even those of the same fam-
ily differ as greatly as children of a household.
One goldfinch that I have studied is a shy,
timid little creature, utterly unresponsive to its
human neighbors, while another is the embodi-
ment of gayety, brimming over with good spir-
its, and always ready to answer a greeting with
a cheerful " Pick-wick." This bird is extremely
fond of human society, and after being without
it for an hour or two will pour out a torrent of
greetings in his loudest voice, wriggling his
body from side to side, as though too full of joy
to keep still. Even in times of adversity, when
he is moulting (which he does with difficulty),
and his wings fail of their office, so that on set-
ting out for his favorite perch, after the bath,
he flies wide of the mark, beating the air vainly,
and at last fluttering to the floor, where he
never willingly goes, — even then he will has-
ten to a ladder placed for him, hop up round
after round, stopping now and then to call out
gleefully, as if to say, " I 'm not hurt a bit !
I 'm all right ! " When at last the time comes
that he does not try to fly, he cheerfully avails
himself of a series of perches running around

206 ''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:'

tlie room, and takes his exercise as blithely as
though he had never known wings.

Next neighbor to the goldfinch is a cardinal
grosbeak, a fellow of different temperament.
He is a C3aiic, morose and crusty. His world
is hollow and his cage is his castle, which he
declines to leave for an instant, although the
door stands open from morning till night.
Above ail, he is captious on the subject of his
rights, and insists on having them respected.
To have a bird perch near his door is offensive
in the extreme, and alighting on his cage is a
crime which stirs him to fury. He despises
his restless neighbors, and feels no need of ex-
ercise himself. He sits — not stands, like most
birds — on his chosen perch hour after hour,
leaving it only to eat ; and I think that if his
food were within reach of this seat he would
not rise half a dozen times a day. His only rec-
reation is music, in which he indulges freely ;
and his song has a curious quality of defiance
in it, quite consistent with his character. His
notes indicate a more gentle sentiment only in
the morning, before his cage is uncovered and
his churlishness aroused by the sight of asso-
ciates whom he chooses to consider foes. At
that charmed hour he will favor his delighted
audience of one with a sweet and tender strain,
utterly unlike his performance at any other

''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:* 207

time. A pining captive is an unwelcome guest
in this small bird colony, and the cardinal could
have his liberty at any moment. But that is
not his desire. He evidently appreciates the
comfort of a cage, is satisfied with his bill of
fare, and has no inclination to forage for him-
self. The only thing he wishes is to be let
alone. His dream of happiness, if put into
words, would, I think, resemble the ideal of
some of the human family, — a well-appointed
house, having everything to please the eye and
gratify the taste within and about it, and sur-
rounded by a wall unsurmountable and impene-
trable, even to the glances of the world at large.
In striking contrast with this uncivil person-
age is a serene and philosophic character, pos-
sessing neither the rollicking spirits of the gold-
finch nor the moodiness of the cardinal. The
return of the house-mistress, after a week's ab-
sence, elicits no manifestations of joy from this
bird, as it does from all the others, including
the cardinal. Yet, though undemonstrative,
he is not without emotions. He will follow
her all day, stand for an hour within an inch
of the rocker of her chair, and spend half his
time on her knee, watching every movement,
taking occasional lunches from her fingers, and
not hesitating to indulge in a nap when he feels
so disposed.

208 •• THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS.''

The element of mischief, of caprice, and prac
tical joking is well represented by a cat-bird •,
or was, until he grew unhappy and a window
was opened to give him liberty. No more
tricksy spirit ever dwelt in human frame : de-
lighting in pranks, teasing the smaller birds,
working confusion in desk drawers or sewing-
baskets, performing a war-dance, with appropri-
ate screams, on top of the cardinal's cage, and
exulting in his helpless frenzy. This bird was
not quite affectionate, not absolutely trustful ;
he would alight on ray hand for food, being,
however, so wary and alert that he was as se-
cure from surprise as though he stood on a tree.

Easy-going amiability is the prominent char-
acteristic of another goldfinch. He submitted
meekly to the tyranny of his cage-mate, ate
only when he had eaten, bathed only when he
had finished, till, growing bold by success, the
autocrat waxed domineering, when the victim
suddenly roused himself, became aggressive, as-
serted his right to the conveniences of the
household, and, as in human society under sim-
ilar circumstances, carried everything before
him.

The manners of " these our brothers " are as
individual as their tempers. Nothing is more
impressive than the dignity of the thrush fam-
ily ; no vulgar haste or fussiness, no ignoble

''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:' 209

panic. All is tranquil repose, yet without a
symptom of dullness. A stranger may approach
a thrush, and he will neither flinch nor fidget
until the observer becomes intrusive, when he
calmly and quietly slips away. Opposed to
this high-bred manner is that of the redwing
blackbird, who, never still a moment, is restless
and uneasy to the last degree ; jumping from
perch to perch, stretching one wing and then
the other, jerking the tail, craning the neck,
ever assuming new attitudes, and showing in
every movement his unquiet spirit.

Different from each of the above in manner
is the cat-bird. There is an appearance of
grave repose, but it is superficial ; it is the re-
pose of the air before a tornado, of the volcano
before a violent eruption. He is quiet, — he
stands as still as a thrush, and looks one full in
the eye ; but he is alert to the tips of his toes,
and a slight but significant jerk of the tail
shows that he is wide awake and prepared for
instant movement. Let him suspect one's in-
tention to be hostile, and he will flash out of
sight ; not silently, like the thrush, but with
harsh screams that fairly startle one with their
violence.

To find rude, blustering, self-assertive man-
ners we need go no farther than our city streets,
which the house-sparrow has made his own.

210 " THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:'

For cool impudence and offensive intrusion
upon the rights of humanity about him this
bird has no equaL He is a genuine gamin,
and shows the effect of life in the streets even
on a bird.

Birds not only cough and sneeze, but they
dream and snore, making most distressing
sounds, as if strangling. They hiccough — a
very droll affair it is, too, — and they faint
away. A goldfinch, spoken of above, being
frightened one night, in his struggles was
caught between the wires, and gave a cry like
the squeak of a mouse in distress. On my has-
tening to his release, he slipped out into the
room, and flew wildly about till he hit some-
thing and fell to the floor. He was picked up,
and his fright culminated in a dead faint. The
little head drooped, the body was limp, appar-
ently perfectly lifeless, and he was laid in his
cage, ready to be buried in the morning. He
was placed carefully on the breast, however,
and in a few minutes he hopped upon his perch,
shook out his ruffled feathers, and composed
himself to sleep.

One feat sometimes ascribed to man is in the
case of birds a literal fact, — they can sleep
with one eye open. This curious habit I have
watched closely, and I find it common in nearly
all the varieties I have been able to observe.

''THESE ARE YOUR DROTIIERSy 211

One eye will close sleepily, shut tight, and ap-
pear to enjoy a good nap, while the olher is
wide awake as ever. It is not always the eye
towards the light that sleeps, nor is it invaria-
bly the one from the light. The presence or
absence of people makes no difference. I have
even had a bird stand on my arm or knee, draw
up one leg, and seem to sleep soundly with one
eye, while the other was wide open. In sev-
eral years' close attention I have been unable to
find any cause, either in the position or the
surroundings, for this strange habit.

No '' set old woman " is more wedded to her
accustomed " ways " than are birds in general
to tlieirs. Their hours for eating, napping, and
singing are as regular as ours. So, likewise, are
their habits in regard to alighting places, even
to the very twig they select. -After a week's
acquaintance with the habits of a bird, I can
always tell when something disturbing has oc-
curred, by the place in which he is found. One
bird will make the desk his favorite haunt, and
freely visit tables, the rounds of chairs, and
the floor, while another confines himself to the
backs of chairs, the tops of cages and picture-
frames. One hermit thrush frequented the
bureau, the looking-glass frame, and the top of
a cardboard map which had warped around till
the upper edge was almost circular. On this

212 ''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:'

edge lie would perch for hours, and twitter and
call, but no other bird ever approached it.
Still another alwa3^s selected the door casing
and window cornices.

Every bird has his chosen place for the
night, usually the highest perch on the darkest
side of the cage. They soon become accus-
tomed to the situation of the dishes in their
cages, and plainly resent any change. On my
j)lacing a drinking-cup in a new part of the car-
dinal's residence, he came down at once, scold-
ing violently, pretended to drink, then looked
over to the corner where the water used to be,
and renewed his protestations. Then he re-
turned to the upper perch, flirting his tail, and
expressing his mind with great vigor. A few
minutes passed, and he repeated the perform-
ance, keeping* it up with great excitement
until, to pacify him, I replaced the cup. He at
once retired to his usual seat, smoothed his
roughened plumage, and in a few moments
began to sing. A dress of new color on their
mistress makes great commotion among these
close observers, and the moving about of furni-
ture puts the tamest one in a panic.

" Besides song," says Michelet, *' the bird
has many other languages. Like men, he prat-
tles, recites, and converses." The subject of
birds' language is one of great interest, and I

''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:' 213

have studied it very closely. I notice that all
the birds understand certain sounds made by
any one of them, even by sparrows outside, —
a cry of distress, any excitement, calls for food,
and especially an expression of dislike for an-
other's song ; but I have never seen any ap-
pearance of talk except between those of the
same family. Two goldfinches keep up a con-
tinual chatter, with distinctly different tones
for different occasions, as when a fly alights on
the window near them, or a neighboring bird
makes any uncommon movement. They never
talk at the same time, although they often sing
together, and one is much more talkative than
the other. Sometimes their notes are low and
their manner indifferent, as if the talk were
mere desultory chat ; but if anything occurs of
interest in their small world the tones become
animated, and in times of excitement their
voices are raised almost to shrieks. After a
quarrel, moreover, there is no more exchange
of opinion for a long time. Further than this,
I have experimented by taking one from the
room, when invariably all talk ceased. I have
never known one to make the peculiar sounds I
have called " talk " when the other was not in
the room. Robins notoriously talk together,
and when one intrudes upon their neighbor-
hood he can almost translate into English their

214 ''THESE ARE YOUR BROTUERBV

low words of warning and caution, and their
observations upon his movements. Who that
has ever lain on his back in the hay, and
watched the barn swallows as they come to
their nest and perch on the great beam to dress
their feathers and perhaps give their quaint lit-
tle song before setting out again, but is con-
vinced that they are great chatterers ! Indeed,
one can hear them, as they fly through the air,
not only calling to each other, but exchanging
remarks, which is quite different.

To one who has watched birds it is plain that
they are fond of play. A bit of string will
often amuse one for a long time : he will jump
sideways and drag it about in a very droll way,
beat it on the floor, fly away with it, and in
other ways enjoy it. A marble, or anything
that rolls, will sometimes answer the same pur-
pose. A mocking-bird delighted in a grass
stalk with the seeds on. He would grasp it in
the middle, hop all about his cage, lay it care-
fully down in one place, leave it, and then re-
turn and take it up again. He would entertain
himself a half hour at a time in this manner.
A cat-bird was particularly pleased with a
handkerchief. If one fell to the floor he was
after it in an instant, jerking it over the carpet
and enjoying himself greatly. Another bird
made himself happy by swinging on a spring

''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:' 215

perch, jumping back and forth, and seeming to
like the motion. The desire for amusement is
also shown by a habit of throwing things down
to see them drop. Several birds have liked to
throw pins from the cushion, and look over to
observe the fall ; and a cat-bird never came
near a spool without pushing it over, rolling it
to the edge of desk or table, and noticing the
result with interest. This is true not only of
birds in a house, which may be supposed spe-
cially in need of something to pass away the
hours, but I have seen sparrows amuse them-
selves in the same way, throwing small objects
— leaf stems, I think — from a roof, and look-
ing over to see them flutter to the ground.

One bird diverted himself after the manner
of a " sportsman " hunting a fox, by chasing
smaller birds from one side of a room to the
other, and the more frightened he could make
them the more he exulted in the " sport." He
would also run the length of a cornice in a
panic-stricken way, as though suddenly gone
mad, stop short at the last inch, turn instantly,
and repeat the performance, and he would keep
it up for an hour. The fun of another, a gold-
finch, consisted in turning " back-summersets."
He would hang, head downward, from the roof
of his cage, walk about in that position, using
his bill to help, like a parrot, and at last give a

216 ''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS."

backward spring, turn completely over, and
land on the floor of the cage. His cage-mate
did not approve of this sort of frolic, and after
mildly expressing his opinion once or twice he
put an end to the gymnastics by a sharp re-
proof, accompanied by a twitch of one of the
offender's feathers.

Most birds take deep interest in things going
on about them, as any one who has watched
them, wild or tame, must know. I havQ seen a
swallow hover like a great humming-bird be-
fore a stranger, to satisfy his curiosity regard-
ing him. Nothing shows difference of character
more plainly than the various ways of gratify-
ing curiosity. One is very cautious, and circles
around a new object a long time before touch-
ing it, while another flies directly to the spot,
and pounces upon it or tries it with the bill at
once. Many birds are fond of looking at
things outside the window, carriages, people,
sparrows flying about, and falling snow or rain,
while the appearance of a boy's kite in the air
never fails to put the whole roomful in a fright.

Especially are birds interested in others of
their kind, and they are generally ready to help
with their presence and advice, if nothing else.
A cry of distress will bring sympathizers from
every quarter, and during several sparrow broils
I have noticed, there has always been an audi-

''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:' 217

ence, all talking, — giving advice, no doubt, —
and many ready to take a hand in any sort of
scrimmage. Robins, too, rush in crowds to the
assistance of their neighbors.

Birds show a love of teasing in several ways,
the most common being to display contempt for
another's song. One of my goldfinches will as-
sume the most indifferent air when the other
begins to sing ; moving to the farther end of
the long perch, puffing himself out, and osten-
tatiously getting ready for a nap. The singer
never fails to notice the offense at once, and fol-
low up his tormentor, singing somewhat louder,
till the naughty fellow deliberately puts his
head under his feathers as if to sleep, when the
voice rises to a positive shriek, and the offended
bird stretches himself up tall, and towers above
his sleepy comrade as though he would devour
him.

The coolest insult I ever saw is often paid by
a goldfinch to a cardinal as big as half a dozen
of himself. He insisted upon alighting upon
the cardinal's cage to shake himself after bath-
ing, and, in spite of hard words from the owner,
kept up the custom until sundry nips of his toes
convinced the saucy goldfinch that it was not
a good place to dry himself. Since then he
perches close to the door of his crusty neighbor
to sing, edging as near as he can, and singing

218 ''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS.'*

his loudest. The cardinal expresses disapproval
by sharp " Tsip's " and other sounds, but when
he becomes too enraged to contain himself he
sings ! It is certainly a strange way of show-
ing anger. He puffs out his feathers, holds his
quivering wings a little away from his sides,
erects his crest, and sways his body like a Chi-
nese mandarin in the tea-shops, only from side
to side, singing all the time at the top of his
voice.

The goldfinch understands the meaning of
this demonstration, and it really seems to awe
him, for as long as the cardinal continues it he
stands meek and silent. Although fearing it
would be useless, I on one occasion fastened
open the door of the angry bird's cage, to put
him on more equal terms with his small foe.
But so far from helping matters, the goldfinch
became more saucy than before, even venturing
into the enemy's cage for hemp-seed which he
spied upon the floor. The cardinal hurried
down when he saw this ; but the smaller bird
was so quick in his movements that he could go
in, snatch a seed, and be out before his clumsy
adversary reached him. Once outside, where he
knew perfectly well he would not be followed
by the irate proprietor, the small rogue stood
on a perch not two inches from the open door,
calmly cracked and ate his seed, and then

''THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS.'' 219

waited for another chance to make a raid upon
the coveted stores.

No one who has kept several birds needs to
be told of their jealousy. In spite of infinite
pains and redoubled attentions to the older resi-
dent, I have been pained to see the feeling to-
wards a new-comer cause unhappiness, even
misery, and in one case a permanent souring
of temper.

It is curious to see a bird show rage. Be-
sides the singing already spoken of, the cardinal
sometimes displays it in another way. He will
perch as near as possible to the wires which
separate him from the goldfinch ; raise the
feathers of his neck all around, till they look
like a ruff; lean his head far over one side,
with crest down, eyes fixed on the enemy, and
one wing quivering. This attitude of speech-
less wrath seems to impress the goldfinch for a
moment, but at last he takes courage and be-
gins to sing, low at first, but gradually louder,
till ahnost shrieking, while his own wings droop
and quiver, and he edges nearer and nearer to
his insulter, until his swelling body fairly
touches the wires. Meanwhile, upon the open-
ing of the song the cardinal scolds his harshest,
and when the goldfinch touches his wires he
gives a vicious dig into his rice, which sends a
volley flying, and seizes a wire in his bill as

220 " TBESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS:'

though he would bite it off. Yet he will not
avail himself of his open door. The native
thrush alone, of all the birds I have watched,
fails to display temper. I never saw one angry.

There is great difference in the general intel-
ligence of birds, and so far in my studies I have
found the larger ones on a higher grade in this
respect. The robin, cat-bird, thrush, learn the
intentions of the various members of a family
towards them much more quickly than those
that are smaller. These birds soon confide in
me, let me do anything I like about their cages
without a flutter, while the goldfinches, — al-
though the oldest residents and very familiar
at a distance, — a linnet and a chipping spar-
row are frightened if I touch the cage.

That birds show selfishness I am obliged to
admit. Any dainty put into the cage of one
arouses the interest of all, and a big bird hov-
ering in the air before a neighbor's residence,
to discover if his grape or bit of apple is bet-
ter than his own, is a queer sight. A bunch of
fresh leaves in the goldfinch cage makes an ex-
citement that would be funny, except that it is
painful to see this ignoble passion so strong.
To avoid trouble I always put in two bunches,
one at each end of the longest perch. Neither
bird can settle to one bunch lest the other is
better, and so they vibrate between the two, till

" THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS.'' 221

the whole is eateu. Even the gentle thrush
so dislikes seeing others possessed of plantain
leaves that he will snatch away from another's
cage any leaf that he can reach from the out-
side. He is very dexterous, too, flying up and
seizing the protruding stem without alighting.

Birds are as prone as children to imitate
what they see others do. I have noticed them
particularly in the matter of bathing. I have
one bird that never really bathed till he learned
by seeing another. He simply " washed his
face," and then passed half an hour arranging
his feathers. But when a companion was put
into his cage who greatly enjoyed the bath,
going in all over and splashing violently, he
stood and watched the proceeding with great
interest, came to the perch nearest the bathing
dish, looked on earnestly, and seemed to be
amazed. Two or three days this went on, his
interest in the thing not diminishing; and at
last, after circling many times around the pan
in an undecided way, dreading yet wishing to
make the plunge, he finally got up his courage
and jumped into the middle, — it was a shallow
pan with one inch of water. Even then he
hesitated, looked over to me, and called out
gayly as though to say, "See what I 've done ! "
I answered, and in a few moments he dipped
his head and began to spatter. It was evi-

222 " THESE ARE YOUR BROTHERS.^'

dently a new experience, and be called to me
again and again, and was so delighted that it
was charming to see. Never since that day
has he neglected the bath, and he often gets so
wet that he cannot fly to his cage, four feet
above, till he has shaken himself out.

Now, at this hour of noon, all four birds are
sitting quietly on their perches, indulging in
their accustomed midday siesta. Suddenly the
goldfinch utters in soft undertone, " Seep ! "
There is no reply, and after a moment he
speaks again, a little louder : " Peep I peep ! "
Across the window the cardinal, sitting motion-
less on his perch, now adds his voice in a low
call, followed soon by a loud " Three cheers !
three cheers ! " The thrush, on the other side
of the room, next strikes in gently, a genuine
whisper song, keeping his eye on me to see if
I observe him. At last comes the blackbird,
with loud, clear " h'wa-ker-ee ! " and all four
are singing like mad. Then suddenly they
drop to silence. The cardinal goes down for a
lunch of rice ; the thrush stands swelled out,
motionless, on his perch ; the blackbird inter-
ests himself in the state of his feet and in
stretching his wings ; and the goldfinch plumes
his feathers. When all these duties are per-
formed and the cardinal has settled himself
once more, there is a pause of a few moments,
and the concert begins again in the same way.

''THESE ARE YOUR BROTH ERS:' 223

Let me close witli the sentiment of Emerson
upon the bird : —

" In ignorant ages it was common to vaunt
the human superiority by underrating the in-
stinct of other animals, but a better discern-
ment finds that the difference is only of less
and more. Experiment shows that the bird
and the dog reason as the hunter does ; that all
the animals show the same good sense in their
humble walk that the man who is their enemy
or friend does, and if it be in smaller measure,
yet it is not diminished, as his often is, by
freak and folly."

INDEX.

Bird feathees, 22.
characteristics, 23.
slaughter, 22, 203.
individuality, 205.
philosophy, 207.
manners, 208.

thrush, 208.

redwing blackbird, 209.

cat-bird, 209.

sparrow, 209.
sleep with one eye, 210.
regular habits, 211.
language, 212.
play, 214.

mocking-bird, 214.

cat-bird, 214, 215.

sparrow, 215.
interest in their surroundings,

216.
jealousy, 219.
rage, 219.
intelligence, 220.

robin, 220.

cat-bird, 220.

thrush, '220.

goldfinch, 220.
selfishness, 220.
Blackbird, red%ving, 95.
at nesting time, 95.
the nook, 96.
the female, 97, 98.
manners, 97, 99.
batliing, 99.
washing the feet, 104.
with the young, 99.
the family broken up, 100.
notes and calls, 100.
song, 100, 102.
fondness for water, 104.
intelligence, 104.
illness, 105.

accident to the beak, 100.
want of praoo, 106.
and thrubli, 106.

15

expression of wings, 107.
reproaches, 108.

baby, 124.
Bobolinks, 134.

difference between, 134.

curious relations, 134.
Canary bird drama, 145.

marriage of convenience, 145.

opinion of her own, 145.

jealousy, 140.

desperate fight, 147.

death of the spouse, 147.
Cardinal grosbeak, 200.

morning song, 206.

and goldfinch, 217.

rage, 219,
Cat-bird (in the house), 75.

curiosity, 76.

investigating the room, 77.

on the desk, 78.

mechanical toy, 79.

Tweed savings-bank, 79.

bath tub, 80.

marble to roll, 81.

pincushion, 81.

waste-basket, 82.

praying mantis, 82.

love of teasing, 85.

and cardinal, 85.

insult, SC\

and goldfinches, 86.

learning by experience, 88.

begging for worms, 89.

mbVier bands, 89.

hiding, 90.

and European song thrush, 9L

jealousy, 91.

notes and calls, 92.

mischief, 208.

play, 214, 215.

manners, 209.

intelligence, 220.
Cat-bird (wild), 63.

its chosen home, 63.

226

INDEX.

whispered song, 64.

intelligence, 05.

curiosity, 05.

humor, 00.

treatment of pigeons, G6.

settles the sparrows, GO.

evening toilet, 68.

bath, 08.

sun bath, 69.

attitudes, 69.

expressions, 70.

seeking the nest, 70.

songs and other notes, 71.
Crow, attacked by an oriole, 115.

with the king-bird, 117, 119.

among the pine needles, 118.

not know when beaten, 119.
Goldiuich (English), 35.

sauciness, 35.

with a thrush, 35.

marriage of convenience, 147.

gi-owing tyraimical, 148.

rebellion, 148.

learning to bathe, 149.

cheerfuhiess, 205.

amiability, 208.

fainting away, 210.

talk, 213.

turning somersaults, 215.

insulting the cardinal, 217.

impressed, 219.

selfishness, 220.

bathing, 221.
Grasshopper under the glass, 83.
King-bird, mode of attack, 117.

assisting an oriole, 119.
Mantis, praying, 82.
MaiTuosets, 138.

difference, 138.

and sand-worms, 139.

opening the door, 140.

rush for the birds, 141.
Mocking-bird, change of residence,
35.

play, 214.
Oriole, Baltimore, 111.

greeting, 111.

deception, 112.

characteristics, 112.

nest, 113.

approach to nest, 113.

vigilance, 114.

the tree shaken, 114.

trouble with a crow, 115.

mode of attack, 117.

tactics, 118.

song, 119.

other cries, 120.

accident to the babies, 120.

female caUs and song, 121.

first appearance of young, 121.

looks of the mother, 122.

as a drudge, 122.

the first peep, 123.

excitement in tlie family, 123.

two babies flown, 124.

a strange oriole, 124.

appearance of babies, 124.

cry of babies, 124.

busy times, 125.

baby's first flight, 127.

flight of number four, 127.

character of nestlings, 127.

catastrophe, 128.

flight of number five, 129.

fliglit of number six, 129.

nest deserted, 130.
Robin, American, 1.

cheerfulness, 1.

notes, 4.

worm-hunting, 5.

trouble with a turkey, 7.

playing a joke, 8.

lessons in worm-himting, 9,

teaching to sing, 10.

baby, 11.

nest, 12.

song, 119.

sparrow impertinence, 199.

talk, 213.

intelligence, 220.
Rmg-dove, 133.
Skylark, 135.

when let out, 136.

a bewitching dance, 137.
Sparrow, house, 153.

morning hJ^ml, 153.

manners, 154.

nest in a spruce-tree, 154.

accident in tlie family, 155.

conduct of parents, 155.

murder of the infant, 156.

divorce decided upon, 157.

manner of securing it, 158.

bringing home a bride, 158.

differences, 159.

nest in the maple-tree, 103.

domestic quarrel, 164.

conduct of the cock, 104.

hiding, 165.

quickness of the female, 106.

change in affairs, 106.

cunning, 107.

stratagems, 108.

cleaning house, 169.

reappearance, 109.

going a-wooing, 170.

coquetry, 170.

another dmm, 175.

a leg lost, 175.

INDEX.

227

treatment by the mate, 176.

sutferiugs of the afflicted, 177.

babies to feed, 177.

rivals, 178.

a formidable foe, 179.

a new position, 179.

trying to "make up," 180.

recovery and reunion, ISO.

the babies out, 181.

as a tyrant, 185.

difference of opinion, 185.

starting out the family, 186.

the father assists, 187.

indifference of the brood, 188.

a youngster "answers back,"
189.

a neighborly alliance, 1

an insult, 191.

philosophy, 191.

modesty of females, 192.

deliglit in a mob, 192.

courtship, 193.

contest with a squirrol, 194.

indifference of squirrel, TJO.

introduchig an owl, 198.

impudence, 199.

impertinence to a robhi, 199.

play, 215.
SquiiTel and sparrows, 196.

winter quarters, 197.

a year later, 197.
Swallow, talk, 214.

curiosity, 216.
Thrush, hermit, 26.

intelligence, 27.

with the pmcushion, 28.

interest in the muror, 28.
Thrush, Mexican, 34.

with the wood thnish, 34.

*hianners, 142.

temper, 143.

as peacemaker, 143.

a bird of one idea, 144.

trouble with the looking-glass,
1+1.

a blusterer, 144.
Thrush, song, European, 43.

timidity, 4.S.

curious performance, 44.

a ball of yarn, 45.

fear of otlier birds, 46.

coaxing out of the cage, 46.

dislike of a doll, 46.

alligator, 47.

inquisitiveuess, 47.

waste-basket, 48.

aversion to change, 48.

taught to go home, 49.

disturbed by a chromo, 49.

intelligence, 50.

recognition of dishes, 50.

lookmg-glass troubles, 51.

jealousy, 51.

tameness, 52.

familiarity on one side, 52.

favorite places, 53.

attitudes, 53.

sun-bath, 54.

expressions, 55.

gait, 55.

notes and calls, 55.

song, 56.

food, 50.

passion for strings, 57.

towel fringe, 58.
Thrush, wood (wUd), 13.

female, 16.

song, 16.

love of solitude, 18.

secret of hiding, 19.

how to discover, 20.

watching his ways, 20.

excitement over a cat, 21.

beauty of plumage, 22.

appearance of the young, 24.

intelligence, 25.

good temper, 25.

song in confinement, 26.
Thnish, wood (in confinement), 33.

disposition, 33.

change of residence, 33.

with the Mexican, &4.

the mocking-bird, 35.

the goldfinch, 35.

monopolizing the apple, 36.

sharing the leaf, 37.

interest in the waste-batket, 37.

caught, 38.

song, 39.

spots of the breast, 39.

mystery, 39.

manners, 208.

temper, 220.

intelligence, 220.

selfishnes.'s, 221.
Woodpecker, golden-winged, 141.

OUT-DOOR BOOKS

Selected from the Publications of

Houghton, Mifflin and Company,

4 Park St., Boston ; 11 East 17th St., New York.

Adirondack Stories. By P. Deming. 18mo,

75 cents.
A-Hunting of the Deer ; How I Killed a Bear ;

Lost in the "Woods ; Camping Out ; A 'Wilderness Ro-
mance ; "What Some People call Pleasure. By Charles
Dudley Warner. 16mo, paper covers, 15 cents, net.

The Anierican Hgrsewoman. By Elizabeth

Karr. Illustrated. New Edition. 16mo, $1.25.

At the North of Bearcarap Water. Chronicles
of a iStroUer in New England from July to December. By
FiiANK BoLLES. 16mo, $1.25.

Autumn : From the Journal of Thoreau. Edited
by H. G. O. Blake. Crown 8vo, gilt top, $1.50.

A Week on the Concord and Merrimack
Rivers. By Henry D. Thoreau. Crown 8vo, gilt top,
$1.50.

Birds and Bees. By John Burroughs. With
an Introduction by Mary E. Burt, of Chicago. ]6mo,
paper covers, 15 cents, net.

Birds and Poets, with Other Papers. By John

Burroughs. lOmo, gilt top, $1.25.

Birds in the Bush. By Bradford Torrey. 16mo,

$1.25.

Birds through an Opera-Glass. By Florence
A. Merriam. In Riverside Library for Young People.
16 mo, 75 cents.

Bird-Ways. By Olive Thorne Miller. IGmo,

$1.25.

Cape Cod. By Henry D. Thoreau. Crown 8vo,

gilt top, 81.50.

Country By-"Ways. By Sarah Orxe Jewett.

ISmo. gilt top, $1.25.
Drift-'Weed. Poems. By Celia Thaxter. 18mo,

full gilt, 81.50.

Early Spring in Massachusetts. Selections

from the Journals of Kenry D. Thoreau. Crown 8vo, gilt
top, $1.50.

Excursions in Field and Forest. By Henry
D. Thoreau. Crown 8vo, gilt top, 81.50.

The Foot-Path "Way. By Bradford Torrey.

16mo, gilt top, 81.25.

Fresh Fields. English Sketches. By John Bur-
roughs. 16mo, gilt top, $1.25.

The Gypsies. By Charles G. Lelatstd. With
Sketches of the English, Welsh, Russian, and Austrian
Romany ; and papers on the Gypsy Language. Crown 8vo,
$2.00.

Homestead Highways. By H. M. Sylvester.

12mo, gilt top, SI. 50.
In Nesting Time. By Olive Thorxe Miller.

16mo, $1.25.

In the Wilderness. Adirondack Essays. By
Charles Dudley Warner. New Edition, enlarged. ISrao,
$1.00.

Land of the Lingering Snow. Chronicles of

a Stroller in New England from January to June. By
Frank Bolles. 16mo, $1.25.

Little Brothers of the Air. By Olive Thorne
Miller. 16rao, $1.25.

Locusts and Wild Honey. By John Bur-
roughs. lOrao, gilt top, $1.25.

The Maine Woods. By Hexry D. Thoreau.

Crown 8vo, gilt top, $1.50.

My Garden Acquaintance and a Moosehead
Journal. By James Russell Lowell. Illustrated. 32iuo,
75 cents. School Edition, 40 cents, net.

My Summer in a Garden. By Charles Dud-
ley Warner. IGino, $1.00.

Nantucket Scraps. Being the Experiences of an
Off-Islander, in Season and out of Season. By Jane G.
Austin. 16mo, $1.50.

Nature. " Little Classics," Vol. XVI. 18mo, $1.00.

Nature, together with Love, Friendship, Do-
mestic Lite, Success, Greatness, and Immortality. By
R. W. Emerson. 32mo, 75 cents ; School Edition, 40 cents,
net.

On Horseback. A Tour in Virginia, North Car-
olina, and Tennessee. With Notes on Travel in Mexico and
California. By Charles Dudley Warner. lOmo, $1.25,

Pep acton. By John Burroughs. 16mo, gilt top,

$1.25.
Photography, Indoors and Out. By Alexan-
der Black. With Illustrations. IGmo, $1.25.

Poems. By Celia Thaxter. 18mo, full gilt,

§1.50.

Poetic Interpretation of Nature. By Principal

J. C. Shaliip. IGmo, gilt top, §1.25.
Prose Pastorals. By Herbert M. Sylvester.

12mo, gilt top, $1.50.

A Rambler's Lease. By Bradford Torre y.

16rao, §1.25.

The Rescue of an Old Place. By Mary Caro-
line Bobbins. IGmo, §1.25.

The Round Year. By Edith M. Thomas. Prose

Papers. IGmo, gilt top, §1.25.

Rural Hours. Charming doscriptions of scenes
about Cooperstown, N. Y., where Cooper's novels were -writ-
ten. By Susan Fenimore Cooper. New Eilition, abridged.
IGmo, §1.25.

The Saunterer. By Charles G. Whiting. Es-
says on Nature. IGmo, §1.25.

Seaside Studies in Natural History. By Alkx-
ander Agassiz and Elizabeth C Agassiz. illustrated.
8vo, $3.00.

Sharp Eyes, A Taste of Maine Birch, The
Apple, and other Essays. By John Burroughs. 16mo,
paper covers, 15 cents, net. -

The Shaybacks in Camp. Ten Summers under
Canvas. By Samukl J. and Isabel C. Barrows. With
Map of Lake Memphremagog. 16mo, $1.00.

Signs and Seasons. By John Burroughs.

IGnio, gilt top, $1.25.

The Succession of Forest Trees, etc. By H.

D. Thoreau. With Biographical Sketch by R. W. Emer-
son. 16ino, paper covers, 15 cents, net.

Summer. Selections from the Journals of H. D.
Thoreau. With Map of Concord. Crown 8vo, gilt top,

81.50.

Tenting at Stony Beach. By Maria Louise

Pool. 16mo, Sl.OO.

Up and Down the Brooks. By Mary E. Bam-

FORD. In Eiverside Library for young People. 16mo, 75
cents.
Wake -Robin. By John Burroughs. Revised

and enlarged edition. Illustrated. IGmo, gilt top, $1.25.

Walden; or, Life in the Woods. By Henry
D. Thoreau. Cro-wn 8vo, gilt top, $1.50. Riverside Aldine
Edition. 2 vols. 16mo, $2.00.

Winter. From the Journal of Thoreau. Edited by
H. G. 0. Blake. Crown Svo, gilt top, $1.50.

Winter Sunshine. By John Burroughs. New

edition, revised and enlarged. With Frontispiece. 16mo,
S1.25.

Woods and Lakes of Maine. A Trip from

Moosehead Lake to New Brunswick in a Birch-Bark Canoe.
By Lucius L. Hdbbard. With Indian Place-Names and
their Meanings, Illustrations, and large Map. Svo, $3.00.

*^* For sale by all Booksellers. Sent by mail, post-paid, on
receipt of price by the Publishers,

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.

4 Park St., Boston; 11 East 17th St., New York.

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