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13536

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

Che Viikerside Press, Cambridge
1888

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Copyright, 1888,
By H. M. MILLER.

All rights reserved.

The Riverside Press, Cambridge:
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.

“ Very few people have the least idea what wild creatures are
like. Their notion generally is to shoot them, and then pick them
up for examination ; which is the same thing as if some being of
superior race, seeing children at play, were to shoot a few at long
range, and then turn them over and describe them and consider
himself learned in their structure, habits, and appearance.’’ —
JEAN INGELOW.

INTRODUCTORY.

Tue sketches of bird manners and customs
in this little collection are the record of careful
observation, and scrupulously true in every par-
ticular. The facts may not all be new to Science,
but since they are genuine studies from life, and
each bird whose acquaintance I make is as truly
a discovery to me as if he were totally unknown
to the world, I venture to hope that lovers of
birds may find in these pages real, live, individu-
als in feathers, honestly “ brothers of ours.” _

OLIVE THORNE MILLER.

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PAGE
I. Basy Birps . i : : ; , ; 1
Purple Crow Blackbird. Quiscalus quiscula.
Redwing Blackbird. Ageleus Pheniceus.
Yellow-Throated Warbler. Dendreca dominica.
Baltimore Oriole. Icterus galbula.
White-Bellied Nuthatch. Sitta Carolinensis.
#," American Robin. Merula migratoria.
Phebe. Sayornis phebe.
Il. Brrp-Stupy ry A SouTHERN STATE . : ef
Great White Heron. Ardea occidentalis.
Bald Eagle. Halicetus leucocephalus.
Wilson’s Tern. Sterna hirundo.
Ring Plover. 4gialitis hiaticula.
Ill. THe Mocxinc-Birp’s NEst ‘ ; 7 . 33
Mocking-Bird. Mimus polyglottas.
IV. A Tricksy Sprrir ; : R yea . 65
Mocking-Bird. Mimus Polyglottas.
V. THe “Wise Biuresrmp” . F : ‘ - 95
Bluebird. Sialia sialis.
VI. THe GoipEn-Wixne ; : ; ‘ ‘ . 113
Golden-Wing Woodpecker. Colaptes auratus. |
VIL. A Srormy Woornce .. ee : . 129

CONTENTS.

Orchard Oriole. Icterus spurtus.

VIII.

IX.

XII.

XIV.

XV.

CONTENTS.

FLUTTERBUDGET . : : ; oi ee eee
Brown Thrush, or Tirachee Harporhynchus
rufus.
“°C Wonprovs SINGERS”’ . : . 159

Gray-Cheeked Thrush. Turdus Funes
Alice’s Thrush. Turdus Alicie.

. A Brep or AFFAIRS . 4 : : : . 173
Blue-Jay. Cyanocitta cristata.

. Tae Brun-Jay AGAIN ; ‘ s : . 189

. Vircinia’s WooInc . 2 een Rie ‘ . 205

Virginia Cardinal. Cardinalis Cardinalis.
FRIENDSHIP IN FEATHERS . . : : . 221

Scarlet Tanager. Piranga erythromdas.

English Goldfinch. Fringilla carduelis.

TE Rosy SHIELD tig Pio se Aer
Rose-Breasted Grosbeak. Habia ludoviciana.
THe Birp or MystTERY : ; : , . 251

Birds of Paradise. Paradisea.

And oft an unintruding guest,

I watched her secret toils from day to day ;
How true she warped the moss to form the nest,

And modeled it within with wood and clay.
And by and by, like heath-bells gilt with dew,

‘There lay her shining eggs as bright as flowers,
Ink-spotted over, shells of green and blue:

And there I witnessed in the summer hours
A brood of Nature’s minstrels chirp and fly,
Glad as the sunshine and the laughing sky.

JOHN CLARE. |

5.
BABY BIRDS.

—-——

_

“EARS have they, but they hear not,” may
be said of all the world. Tragedies and come-
dies go on continually before us which we nei-
ther see nor hear; cries of distress and prattle
of infants, songs of love and screams of war,
alike fall upon deaf ears, while we calmly dis-
cuss the last book or the news from Borriboo-
lah-Gha, as completely oblivious as if all this
stirring life did not exist.

To be sure these things take place in the
‘upper stories,’ as Thoreau says, but they are
none the less audible, and one is tempted to be- |
lieve that bird voices are on a scale to which
the untrained ear is not attuned. Once learn
to hear, and nature is full of life and interest.
The home affairs of our little neighbors whose
modest cottage swings on a branch of the elm
beside the door are more attractive than those
of our fellow creatures in the house across the
way partly because they are so open in their

4 BLACKBIRDS IN TROUBLE.

lives that our attentions do not seem intrusive,
but more because their ways are not so familiar.
We can guess how men and women pass their
time, but we cannot guess why the cat-bird al-
ways sings from the middle of one particular
shrub, nor where he has hidden his dusky
spouse and nest full of babies; and after we
know him we are eager to discover.

Upon reaching the charming home of a friend
in Massachusetts last June, almost the first
thing I saw was a pair of purple crow black-
birds in trouble. First arose a medley of queer
husky tones, clamorous baby cries, and excited
oriole voices, with violent agitation of the leaves
of a tall elm, ending with the sudden exit of a
blackbird, closely followed by a pair of Balti-
more orioles. The pursued flew leisurely across
the lawn, plainly in no haste, and not at all
with the air of the thief and nest robber he is
popularly supposed to be. Clearly the elm be-
longed by bird custom to the orioles, for their
pretty swinging hammock could be seen partly
hidden by leaves, about half-way up the tree,
and what business other than that of marauder
had the sombre-hued enemy upon it ?

Now the blackbird has no secrets in his life;
the whole world is welcome to know his affairs,
and in fact he proclaims them loudly himself.
It was easy to see that he had anxiety enough

DANGER IN THE NEST. 5

of his own just then, without thinking of dis-
turbing his neighbors, for he was engaged in
the task of introducing his young family to the
world, and every bird watcher knows that is at-
tended with almost as many difficulties as is the
same operation in what we call “society.”

If the youngster escape the dangers peculiar
to the nest, the devouring jaws of squirrel or
owl, the hands of the egg thief, being shaken
out by the wind, smothered by an intrusive
cow-bunting, or orphaned by the gun of a “col-
lector;”’ if, neither stolen, eaten, thrown out,
nor starved, he arrives at the age that his wings
begin to stir and force him out of the leafy
green tent of his birth, a new set of dangers
meet him at the door. He may entangle him-
self in a hair of the nest-lining, and hang him-
self at the very threshold of life —a not un-
common occurrence; or he may safely reach
the nearest twig and from there fall and break
his neck — not a rare accident; he may be at-
tacked by a bird who questions his right to be
on the tree; he may fly, and, not rea¢hing his
goal, come to the ground, an easy prey to any
prowler. |

In this blackbird family one of the little ones
had taken his first ambitious flight to the ori-
ole’s tree, where he must and should be fed and
comforted, in spite of the hostile reception of its

6 A WISE MOTHER.

_ gayly dressed proprietor. The father took upon
himself this duty, and many times during the
day the above-mentioned scene was reénacted,
loud blackbird calls, husky baby notes, the
musical war-cry of the oriole, and a chase.

A second infant had wisely confined his wan-
dering to his own tree, one of a group of tall
pines that towered above the roofs of the vil-
lage. This one could be easily watched as he
stood on one branch for an hour at a time, |
sometimes in the nest attitude, head sunk in
shoulders and beak pointed toward the sky,
again looking eagerly around on his new world,
turning his head from side to side, changing
position to see the other way, and showing him-
self wide awake although the yellowish baby-
down was still on his head, and his tail was not
an inch long. Now and then the mother was
heard calling in the distance, and as she ap-
proached he became all excitement, fluttering
his wings, and answering in the husky tones
of the family. A moment later, after a quick
glance around, but without alighting and recon-
noitring the whole neighborhood, as the robin
does, she came down beside the eager youngling,
administered to the wide open mouth what
looked like two or three savage pecks, but
doubtless were nothing worse than mouthfuls
of food, and instantly flew again, while the re-

A SCRAGGY YOUNGSTER. 7

freshed infant stretched his wings and legs,
changed his place a little, and settled into com-
fortable quiet after his lunch.

The urchin in the enemy’s tree was not the
most unfortunate of the nestlings. One already
lay dead on the ground under the nest where it
had fallen, and another came down during the
day, though happily without injury. This one
was not very bright, or perhaps his baby wits
were dazed by his sudden descent. He made
no objection to staying in my hand as long as I
liked to look at him, and when I placed him on
a low branch, as a hint that it was safer there,
he deélined to accept my advice, but flew off
and came to the ground again. He was a
scraggy looking, rusty black little fellow, the
most unattractive young bird I ever saw.
Shortly after this he clambered up on a pile of
brush about a foot high, without so much as a
leaf to screen him, and there he stayed all day,
motionless, being fed at long intervals; and
there [ left him at night, never expecting to see
him again. But in the morning he appeared on
a low shrub on the lawn, and about nine o’clock
he took courage to launch himself on wing. He
flew very low across the street, and dropped
into the tall grass at the foot of a lilac bush.
Why the parents considered that less safe than
the open lawn I could not see, but they evi-

8 THE REDWING BABY.

dently did, for one of them perched upon the
lilac, and filled the air with anxious ‘* chucks,”
announcing to all whom it might concern —
after the fashion of some birds — that here was
a stray infant to be had for the picking up.
Perhaps, however, the hue-and-cry kept off the
quiet-loving cat; at any rate nothing happened
to him, I think, for in a day or two the three
young birds became so expert on wing that the
whole family left us, and I hope found a place
where they were more welcome than in that
colony of house and orchard birds.

Not so quiet in their ways are the babies of
another blackbird family — the redwings ; rest-
less and uneasy, the clumsy little creatures
climb all about the bushes and trees, and keep
both parents busy, not only in filling their gap-
ing mouths, but in finding them when the food
is brought. They are always seeking a new
place, and from the moment of leaving the nest
show in a marked way the unrest, the impa-
tience of the redwing family.

Quite as erratic is a much smaller bird, the
yellow-throated warbler, whose baby ways I
have seen at the South. One of these bantlings
no bigger than the end of a thumb will easily
keep its parent frantically busy rushing about
after food, and hunting up the capricious wan-
derer on its return.

A FEATHERED CRY-BABY. 9

The wood thrush, on the contrary, is patience
itself. A youngster of this lovely family sits a
half hour at a time motionless and silent ona
branch, head drawn down upon his shoulders,
apparently in the deepest meditation. When
he sees food coming he is gently agitated, rises
upon his weak legs, softly flutters his wings and
opens his mouth, but never—never cries.
Should one put a hand down to take him, as
seemingly could be done easily, he will slip out
from under it, drop to the ground, and disap-
pear, in perfect silence.

The ery-baby of the bird world is the Balti-
more oriole. As soon as this fluffy young per-
son appears outside of his nursery, sometimes
even before, he begins to utter a strange almost
constant “chrr-r-r.’ He is not particularly
active of movement, but he cannot keep silent.
One little oriole mother whom I watched in
Massachusetts had no help in raising her brood,
her mate spending his time on the upper
branches of the tree. He could not be blamed,
however ; he was, so far as I could see, perfectly
willing to aid in the support of the family, but
Madam actually would not allow him even. to
visit the homestead. When the young were
out he assumed his share of the labor. The
first yellow-haired bairn mounted the edge of
the nest one morning, and after a little stretch-

10 AN ACCIDENT IN THE FAMILY.

ing and pluming, tried to fly. But alas he was
held! Two or three times he renewed the at-
tempt, his struggles always ending in failure,
and I feared I should see a tragedy. Half an
hour later the mother returned, and whether
she pushed him down, or merely advised him
to go back and try again, I cannot say. The
fact is that he did disappear in the nest, where
he remained for two or three hours, for it is
probably safe to assume that the urchin who
came up later was the same. This time, with-
out delay upon the brink, he climbed upon a
twig, hopped about a little, and before long
flew several feet, alighting on a small branch of
the same tree. Hardly had he established him-
self safely and resumed his ordinary call, when
down upon him from above came a robin, who,
strange to say, had a nest in one of the upper
branches of the same tall maple. This robin
had always recognized the right of the oriole
parents to their share of the tree, but the young
one was a stranger, and he fell upon him ac-
cordingly. He knocked him off his perch; the
unfortunate little fellow fell a few feet, then
gathered himself, fluttered and caught at the
outside of a clump of leaves on the end of a
twig, where after frantic struggling he managed
to secure a hold. Perhaps the robin saw his
mistake, for he paid no more attention to the

AN UNNATURAL INFANT. bE

new-comer, who did not stay long on the tree
after this second disaster. |

The next morning came up out of the nest
quite an unnatural oriole baby —he did not
ery. Silently, he stepped out upon a twig, and
looked about in the new world around him.
He carefully dressed his feathers, and often rose
to his full height and stretched his legs, as if it
were legs and not wings he needed in his new
life. The third scion of the household had also
a marked character of hisown. Having planted
himself on the threshold, and found it a conven-
ient place to intercept all food on its way to the
younger ones still unseen, he remained. Every
time the mother came with a mouthful, he flut-
tered and coaxed, and usually got it. It was
too good a situation to leave and he seemed to
have settled for life; but his wings overpowered
his inertia or greed, about four o’clock in the
afternoon.

So long had the third young oriole occupied
his position, that the fourth made his appear-
ance almost immediately, as though he had
been waiting. There does appear to be some
regulation of this sort among the orioles, for in
all that I have noticed, no two ever came out
together (excepting once, when both went back
almost instantly, and one returned alone). This
late comer had not the whole long sunny day to

12 THE NUT-HATCH TRIBE.

loiter away, and he flew in an hour. The fifth
and last came up early the next morning evi-
dently in haste to join the scattered family, for
he bade farewell to the native tree in a short
time. No more orioles appeared upon the ma-
ple from this day, but for two weeks I saw the
little party about; the father, whom I had
missed after the flight of the first infant, work-
ing like a drudge, with two or three hungry
urchins wherever he went, excepting when he
sought food in the new-cut grass on the ground.
He gave us no more songs, but his sweet, low
call sounded all day on the place.

Another family of little folk came upon the
maple after the orioles were gone, a nut-hatch
tribe. There were three or four of them
exactly like the mother excepting a shorter
tail, and they followed her like a flock of sheep,
over and under branches, around the trunk, up
or down or any way, never pausing more than
an instant, not even when she plumped a mor-
sel into a waiting mouth. She led her little
procession by her querulous-sounding ‘“quank,”’
while they replied with a low “ chir-up”’ in the
same tone. It was a very funny sight. They
could fly nicely, but never seemed to think of
looking for food, and it was plain that the
busy little mother had no time to teach them.
It was interesting to see her deal with a moth

A VICTIM TO AMBITION. 13

which she found napping on a fence. She ran
at once to a crack or some convenient hole in
the rough rail, thrust it in and hammered it
down. When it was quiet she snipped off the
wings, dragged it out, and beat it on the fence
till it was fit for food, the family meanwhile
gathered around her, clinging closely to the
fence, and gently fluttering. These nut-hatches
were remarkably silent, but some that I once
saw living near the top of two or three tall
pines were quite noisy, and I spent much time
trying to see what they were forever complain-
ing about. ‘There always seemed to be some
catastrophe impending up in that sky parlor,
but it never appeared to reach a climax.
Charming to watch is the bluebird nestling ;
cheery and gentle like the parents, he seems
to escape the period of helplessness that many
birds suffer from, perhaps because he is patient
enough to stay in the nest till his wings are
ready to use. The mocking-bird baby has a
far different time. Victim of a devouring am-
bition that will not let him rest till either legs
or wings will bear him, he scrambles out upon
his native tree, stretches, plumes a little in a
jerky, hurried way, and then boldly launches out
in the air —alas !— to come flop to the ground,
where he is an easy prey to boys and cats,
both of whom are particularly fond of young

14 THE YOUNG MOCKER.

mocking-birds. ‘These parents are wiser than
the crow blackbirds, for not a sound betrays
the accident in the family, unless, indeed, the
little one is disturbed, when they make noise
enough. They keep out of sight, no doubt
closely watching the straggler until he gets
away from people, for although he has proved
that he cannot fly, the young mocker is by no
means discouraged ; he trusts to his legs, and
usually at once starts off on a run “ anywhere,
anywhere, out (in) the world.” When far
enough away for them to feel safe in doing so,
the parents come down and feed and comfort
the wanderer, and it is a day or two before his
wings are of much use to him.

The most imperious young bird I know is the
robin. He is perfectly sure he has a right to
attention, and he intends to have it. If he is
neglected too long and gets hungry, he calls
loudly and impatiently, jerking himself up with
a ludicrous air of stamping his feet. Even
when he does condescend to go to the lawn
with mamma, it is not to seek his food — far
from it! It is to follow her around, and call
every moment or two for something to eat.
The idea that his individual exertions have any-
thing to do with the food supply seems never
to occur to him. He expects the fat morsels to
fall into his mouth as they always have, and

BABY PEWEES. 15

why should they not ? He will soon be taught,
for even baby-birds have to be educated.

We have assumed in our easy-going way
that birds “toil not” because they “do not
spin,” because they have not surrounded them-
selves with a thousand artificial wants, as we
have. But the truth is that nobody can work
harder than a pair of robins, for example, with
four or five hungry mouths to fill, and every
mouthful to be hunted up as it is wanted. No
one would guess what an ever-yawning cavern
a baby robin’s mouth is, till he has tried to
bring up a nestling himself. I once kept two
small boys busy several days at high wages,
digging worms for one young bird, and then I
believe he starved to death.

The training of our winged neighbors is most
interesting, but so cautiously carried on that
we rarely see it, though we may often hear the
robin, oriole, whip-poor-will, and many others
receive instruction in singing. I have once or
twice surprised young birds at their lessons, as —
for instance, a pewee family learning to hover
over the daisies, a beautiful operation of their
parents which I never tired of watching. I was
behind a blind when they came, a little flock
of five or six. They were very playful, and
kept near together, flying low over the grass,
alighting in a row on the edge of a pail, com-

16 A DISMAL FAILURE.

ing up on the clothes-line, banging awkwardly
against the house, and in every way showing
ignorance and youth. I studied one for a long
time as he balanced himself on the clothes-line
and looked off at the antics of his brothers
trying to learn the hovering. One of the par-
ents flew out over the tall flowers, poising him-
self gracefully, his body held perfectly erect,
legs half drawn up, turning his head this way
and that, hanging thus in the air several sec-
onds in one spot, then suddenly darting off to
another like a humming-bird. The little ones
in a row close together on a low branch of a
shrub, looked on, and in a moment two or three
sallied out and tried the same movement.
They could fly well enough, but when they
tried to pause on wing the failure was disas-
trous. Some tumbled out of sight into the
daisies, others recovered themselves with vio-
lent efforts and returned hastily to the perch,
complaining loudly. Then the parents brought
food, and this went on for some time, while all
the time the air was full of gentle twitters
and calls, much baby-talk, and a little paren-
tal instruction no doubt.

A delightful field of work awaits the young
naturalist of to-day. Our predecessors have
devoted their energies to classifying and arrang-
ing. They have dissected and weighed and

A CHARMING STUDY. 17

measured every part of the little bodies; they
know to a fraction the length of wings and
tails; they have pulled to pieces the nests,
“clutched” the eggs, and blown and mounted
and labeled and set up in cases the whole ex-
ternal of the little creatures. All that can be
learned by violence, all the characteristics
evolved by fear and distress are duly set
down in the books. You shall find a catalogue
of the robin’s possessions in the shape of feath-
ers and bones, pictures of his internal anatomy,
illustrations of his work in nest building, and
specimens in all stages, but in the whole world
of these books you shall not find the robin.
The soul of the robin has escaped them, it is
not to be taken by force.

I do not find fault ; it needed to be done, but
happily — let us hope — it is done, and a more
enticing field is now open, namely: to make
personal acquaintance with the birds, find out
how they live, their manners and customs, and
their individual characters. This is one of the
most charming studies in the world, but much
more is required than a gun and a little or
much scientific knowledge. There is infinite
patience, perseverance, untiring devotion, and
more,—a quick eye and ear, and a sympa-
thetic heart. If you do not love the birds you
cannot understand them.

18 IN THE “UPPER STORIES.”

This is the pleasant path opening now, and
in some ways it is particularly suited to woman
with her great patience and quiet manners.
Once interested in the lives in the “upper
stories,’ you will find them most absorbing;
novels will pall upon you, fancy work seem friy-
olous, society duties a bore, and talk — loud
enough to interfere with listening — an imper-
tinence.

BIRD-STUDY IN A SOUTHERN
STATE.

He loved the ever deepening brown
Of summer twilights on the enchanted hills;
Where he might listen to the starts and thrills —
Of birds that sang and rustled in the trees,
Or watch the footsteps of the wandering breeze,
And the bird’s shadows as they fluttered by,
Or slowly wheeled across the unclouded sky.
RICHARD WATSON GILDER.

If.
BIRD-STUDY IN A SOUTHERN STATE.

-—+—

THE most interesting experience in several
years of bird-study was a trip to a Southern
State for the purpose of making > toa pea
with the mocking-bird.

Adventures began before the lights of New
York sank below the horizon ; adventures more
strange than agreeable, for the journey was by
steamer. Hardly had we passed out of the bay
when there began a gentle roll which speedily
sent passengers to bed. When we passed Long
Branch the motion was a steady rock from side
to side, that made one feel like a baby in a cra-
dle, and before bedtime it was a violent swing
that flung one about like a toy, and tossed the
furniture around like doll-house belongings.

Holding on to the side of the berth with
both hands, I passed the night listening to the
labored strokes of the engine and the crashing
of the loosened freight in the hold, and enter-
tained by the eccentric conduct of the loose ar-
ticles in my state-room, a trunk, chair, life-pre-

29 DANCE OF THE FURNITURE.

server, plate, saucer, and teaspoon, which with
one accord, and in spite of all I could do by
most ingenious wedging, joined in a peculiar
dance between the outer wall and the inner par-
tition of my room. At one moment they rested
quietly in their several ways, against the wall;
the steamer lurched, and all started madly
across the floor, the heavy things first, and
the lighter bringing up the rear, each banging
violently against the partition, with thump,
rattle, or jingle according to its nature, then in
a moment dashing back so furiously that I
feared to see the thin planks yield and my
trunk go out to sea by itself. Not that I cared
for my trunk — my life was the subject that in-
terested me at the time. Outside, too, the doors
and blinds rattled, the tiller-chain chattered
ana wailed and sobbed like a woman in distress,
and above all other sounds rose the dismal
fog horn, for a pall of mist had settled over us.

Day differed from night only in being light,
for the sole prospect from the guards was one
moment the fog above, where the sky should
be, the next the depths of the sea yawning as
if to receive the ship into its bosom. In this
manner, during two days and three nights, we
rolled on to our destination, and for days after
my feet touched blessed Mother Earth I reeled
and staggered like a drunken man.

THE SALT MARSH. 2a 23

After the storm, the calm. There followed
upon this rough voyage weeks of quiet, delight-
ful bird-study, whose long sunny days were
passed in the fragrant depths of pine groves,
under arching forest of sweet-gum trees, or on
the shore of the salt marsh; but wherever, or
however, always following and spying out the
ways of the feathered world.

The bird of the South —the mocking-bird,
was the first object of study. By day he was
watched and noted, during the long twilight he
was listened to, and at midnight sleep was often
banished by his wonderful and enchanting
voice. Gray and inconspicuous in coloring, we
all know him in the cage; but how different in
freedom! how wild and bewitching his song!
how wise and knowing his ways! how well
worth weeks of study is this one bird!

Here were dozens of other birds also. What
keen delight to one fresh from the town, to
look over the marsh where

“Leagues and leagues of marsh grass, waist high, broad in
the blade,

Green and all of a height, and unflecked with a light or a
shade,

Stretch leisurely off in a pleasant plain

To the terminal blue of the main ;”

to watch the great snowy heron sweeping over
with broad white wing, tripping gracefully

24 MARSH BIRDS.

about on the edges of the channels, and toward
night betaking itself to a line of trees in the
distance, that looked as if full of snowy blos-
soms that moved and changed about and at last
settled for the night; to see the bald eagle
catch a big fish and call his mate to help him
eat it; to watch the lesser tern hover with
yellow bill pointed downward and sharp eye
fixed on the water, and at length stiffen his
wings and dive head first into it, bringing out
his prey, and filling the air with cries in a com-
plaining, squealing tone that always reminds
one of a young pig; to gaze fascinated at the
bewitching flight of the ring-plover, sweeping
low over the water in a small flock, now almost
invisible as the sombre-colored backs turn
toward you, now suddenly flashing bright as
silver when the breasts come into sight, moving
in perfect unison as if impelled by one will.
More, many more birds of the marsh attract
and draw one, but inland is the mocking-bird,
and after a walk along the shore, always my
feet turned to the groves and the fields where
the matchless bird lives his life.

To see, as well as hear a wild mocking-bird
sing, is worth a journey, even over the rolling
deep. I passed hours in a pleasant grove be-
yond the gardens and fields, watching and lis-
tening to one bird whose concert hall it was.

A SUN-WORSHIPER. 25

The grove was the audience room where one
might be in the shade and not too conspicuous
in watching him. His chosen place was in the
sunshine, for this bird is a sun-worshiper. I
always found him singing when I reached the
spot. Perhaps on the top spike of a young
pine-tree, balanced on one, or sometimes on
two adjoining top twigs —- which of course
stand straight up — stood the singer, madly
shouting his most peculiar medley. He looked
at me as I passed near his perch, but did not
pause in his song. After I had taken my seat
he flew — singing as he went — alighted nearer,
on the upper sprig of a cedar, turned his eyes
upon me, and treated me to another perform-
ance, while I looked and listened enchanted.
Nor was I the only listener. Ever and anon
while absorbed in the entertainment, or waiting,
breathless, for a new note, I was startled by a
rustle, and a low *“* Good evenin’ Missis,” and
glanced up to see a negro stealing along in a
stealthy way. It might be a woman with a
big bundle or basket on her head, possibly a
slouching young man or “ boy ” with an air of
interest in my eccentric proceedings, or a group
of youngsters with nothing particular to do,
but one and all perfectly silent in movement.
No wonder they know all about the birds, and
lay violent hands on eggs, nests, or nestlings as

26 NEST ROBBERS.

they choose, creeping around as they do with-
out a sound. It is only surprising that a bird
is left in the State, so persistently do they rob
the nests. Naturally the mocking-bird, for which
they can always find purchasers, is the most
desirable, and white as well as black persecute
that bird unceasingly.

“You can’t keep them from the negroes,” said
a young white man. “I’ve often been watching
a nest to get the young ones myself, but some
nig was sure to take it before me.”

Speaking of negroes, I never saw so many
idle men and grown boys. Not a spot could be
found so secluded that one or more did not soon
make his appearance. Selecting the quiet yard
of a summer cottage, a deserted-looking place
not yet opened for the season, in which to study
the ways of the birds in peace, I was often
disturbed by a negro passing across the lawn,
taking no heed of fences, for there’s no sort of
a fence in that country that they will not pass
over as if it were not there. Of course this
always put to flight the dramatis persone of
my study. One day an interesting (or inter-
ested) person of color appeared on the scene
equipped for white-washing, and proceeded to
adorn tree trunks, fences, buildings, etc., etc.,
relieving his labors by questioning me about
northern manners and customs. On another

A LOVELY NOOK. 27

occasion when I was looking anxiously to see a
eertain family of nestlings make exit from the
nest, a building that I supposed to be a shut-up
store-room was thrown open, a wash-tub appeared
before the door, and I found that a family of
eight, including four children, had moved in,
not thirty feet from my chosen seat, and of
course to the utter destruction of any seclusion.

I could not select a single spot in the neigh-
borhood, favorable to quiet study, without hav-
ing it made desolate or turned into a thorough-
fare. The loveliest place I found at all was a
footpath passing for about fifty feet through a
fringe of low cedar, sweet gum trees, and shrubs
loaded with pink lily-of-the-valley shaped blos-
soms. Across the path ran a brooklet, a mere
thread of water, so shallow that small birds
stood in the middle to bathe, though it deepened
into a pool below, where frogs croaked and
plunged. It was cool; it was quiet, far from
the everywhere present negro hut; there was no
sound but the trickle of the streamlet as it fell
into the pool, and the softened roar of the ocean
beyond the wide salt marsh.

To this nook I went every day, always trying
to surprise the birds at their usual occupations,
but never quite succeeding; for steal in quietly
as I might I always heard low remarks, a slight
flutter of wings,and usually saw a dark form

28 A CALL FROM BOB WHITE.

or two departing near the ground behind some
shrub. Slowly and quietly, however, I took my
seat on a bank close under a thick bush, —
while the silence around me was as profound as
if no wing had ever fluttered there, — and be-
came as motionless as circumstances would al-
low, for beside the birds there were other tenants
not half so shy.

After a few moments, when the ripple I
caused had died away, sounds of life began
again; unknown water creatures made queer
noises in the pool below, low bird tones, unfa-
miliar scraps of song fell on the ear, ordinary
ways were resumed.

In this pleasant place I made acquaintance
with the painted-finch, or nonpareil, who was
jeast frightened of the small birds, and stood pa-
tiently on a cedar twig till | became quiet, then
came down in plain sight, waded up to the tops
of his firm little legs in the water, and deliber-
ately took his bath before my very face. Here
also I had a eall from Bob White, who cau-
tiously lifted a striped cap and a very bright
eye above the grass tops to look at me. He did
not introduce himself; indeed, after a moment’s
steady gaze his head dropped and I saw him no
more, but I heard him rustle in the grass on
the way to the strawberries, of which he de-
mands — and gets — his share.

ie

TRAGEDIES OF THE NESTS. 29

Ruin fell upon this charming retreat in this
wise. One day on my approach I saw commo-
tion in the shrubs and two negroes at work
chopping great branches out on each side of the
path, letting in the sun to my bank, and turn-
ing it into a hideous wreck. I protested.

** Why is this? What are you dong?”

“Oh, we ’re just cuttin’ some pea-poles!” they
replied calmly. They had been too lazy or too
indifferent to step ten feet on one side into the
thicker copse, and leave the pretty path in its
beauty, and the mischief was done, and after all
it was not my business. I passed on.

Bird-study has other annoyances in that part
of the world beside the human beings of whom
I have spoken. Next, perhaps, are the suffer-
ings which wring the heart all the while. John
Burroughs has written the tragedies of the
nests ; he could add a chapter more tragical than
all, should he visit the haunts of the mocking-
bird. Nothing can be more dreadful than the
systematic and persistent war made upon this
bird, of which nevertheless every Southerner is
proud.

Lastly, the hindrances which Dame Nature
herself throws around her mysteries. There
are the prickly pears, sowed broadcast over the
land so thickly that one can hardly avoid step-
ping on them, with thorns sharp as needles, and

30 QUEER STORIES.

as long. One of an inch in length that I had
the curiosity to examine had forty-five thorns,
equal to two papers of number six sharps, that.
stuck out in every direction, and would pass
through an ordinary shoe with perfect ease.
This interesting vegetable has no local attach-
ments whatever, and readily clings to any part
of one’s garment.

Then there are the mosquitoes with which the
same careful mother peoples the groves, even in
April, industrious little creatures not in the
least enervated by the climate. But her grand
dependence, judiciously settled indeed, is on the
sand flies.. Wherever there is not a howling
gale — there are the flies in millions, most inde-
fatigable and maddening of pests. And finally,
to take home with you, to remind you pleas-
antly of her hospitalities when you have reached
your own room, is the tick!

Ties from the outer world began at last to
draw. The birdlings in the nest were not ready
to come out, and growing impatient I drew
upon the knowledge — or rather the ignorance
—of the residents and heard some surprising
statements, which further observation, however,
did not confirm. That the mocking-bird baby
lives for three weeks in the nest; that part of
that time the parents carry the nestlings about
on their backs; that when old enough the young

BIRDS AND STRAWBERRIES. 31

are pushed out of their nest, and always fall to
the ground. |

And the authors of these fables were grown-
up, and had passed their lives among the mock-
ing-birds. I curbed my impatience, stayed an-
other week, and saw all the nestlings out, and
the nest deserted.

Another charge also fell to the ground on
careful observation. The farmers complain —
as farmers are apt to complain of their best
friends, the birds— that the mocking-bird eats
strawberries. I set myself to watch a fine patch
full of ripe and tempting berries, several times
when no one wasnear. Many birds came about,
mocking-birds, crows, king-birds, orchard ori-
oles, and others. The mocking-birds ran down
between the rows of vines catching grasshop-
pers, the crows did the same service, walking
with dignity. The king-birds chased flies, the
orioles searched the fruit trees for insects. One
and all were working in the interest of the
strawberry grower. And while I watched, an
hour or more at a time, not even for dessert
after filling their stomachs with insects, did one
take a berry, which I am sure they might be
considered to have earned.

I know one lady — would there were more
like her — who owns a garden on Long Island,
and when her gardener comes in and says some-

oo A WISE WOMAN.

thing must be done to prevent the birds de-
stroying fruit, calmly says: “Certainly, set out
another row of plants. Let us have enough
for the birds by all means, and for ourselves
too.”

uae

wl hae ry
1) ‘le AP

_ THE MOCKING-BIRD’S NEST. ¢

eo
‘a »
® +

'e"

:

«

a

Whate’er birds did or dreamed, this bird could say.

Then down he shot, bounced airily along

The sward, twitched in a grasshopper, made song

Midflight, perched, prinked, and to his art again.

Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain;

How may the death of that dull insect be

The life of yon trim Shakespeare, on the tree ?
SIDNEY LANIER.

III.
THE MOCKING-BIRD’S NEST.

—_—o—

“Superb and sole upon a pluméd spray

That o’er the general leafage boldly grew,”
as literally as though Lanier had sketched that
particular bird, stood the first free mocking-
bird I ever heard. His perch was the topmost
twig of the tallest tree in the group. It was a
cedar, perhaps fifteen feet high, around which
a jasmine vine had clambered, and that morn-
ing opened a cluster of fragrant blossoms at his
feet, as though an offering to the most noted
singer on our side of the globe. As I drew
near he turned his clear, bright eye upon me,
and sang a welcome to North Carolina; and
several hours later, when the moon rose high
over the waters of the Sound, he completed his —
perfect performance with a serenade, the like
of which I fear I may never hear again. I
chose to consider his attentions personal, be-
cause, of all the household, I am sure I was the
only one who listened, and I had passed over
many miles of rolling and tossing ocean to
make his acquaintance.

386 IN HIS DOMESTIC RELATIONS.

Nothing would have been easier, or more
delightful, than to pitch one’s tent in a certain
pine grove not far away, and pass days and
weeks in forgetting the world of cares, and
reading favorite books, lulled at all hours of
day and night by the softened roar of the
ocean and the wonderful bird

“ Singing the song of everything,

Consummate sweet, and calm.”
But it was not merely as singer that I wished
to know him; nor to watch his dainty and
graceful ways as he went about the daily duties
of food- hunting, singing, and driving off. ma-
rauders, which occupied his hours from dawn
to late evening, and left him spirit enough for
many a midnight rhapsody. It was in his
domestic relations that I desired to see him, —
the wooing of the bride and building the nest,
the training of mocking-bird babies and start-
ing them in the world; and no loitering and
dreaming in the pine grove, however tempting,
would tell me this. I must follow him to his
more secluded retreats, see where he had set
up his homestead.

Thoreau — or is it Emerson ?—says one al-
_ways finds what he looks for, and of course I
found my nests. One pair of birds I noticed
through the courtship, the selection of the site,
the building and occupying of the nest; an-

A FRIENDLY MOCKING-BIRD. 37

other couple, already sitting when discovered,
I watched through the incubation and nursing
of the little ones, and at last assisted in giving
them a fair chance for their lives and a start
in the world. It may be thought that my as-
sistance was not particularly valuable; the birds
shared this opinion; none the less, but for my
presence not one of those birdlings would be
free and happy to-day, as I hope and believe
they are. To the study of these two house-
holds I gave nearly every hour of daylight, in
all weathers, for a month, and of the life that
went on in and around them I can speak from
personal knowledge; beyond that, and at other
times in his life, I do not profess to know the
mocking-bird.

The bird whose nest-making I witnessed was
the one whose performance I[ chose to consider
a welcome, and his home was in the pine grove,
a group of about twenty trees, left from the
original forest possibly, at any rate nearly a
hundred feet high, with all branches near the
top, as though they had grown in close woods.
They were quite scattering now, and lower
trees and shrubs flourished in their shade, mak-
ing a charming spot, and a home worthy even
of this superb songster. The bird himself was
remarkably friendly. Seeming to appreciate
my attitude of admiring listener, he often

38 BIRD WOOING.

perched on the peak of a low roof (separated

only by a carriage drive from the upper “gal-
lery”’ where I sat), and sang for hours at a
time, with occasional lunches; or, as Lanier,
his most ardent lover, has it, —
“Then down he shot, bounced airily along

The sward, twitched in a grasshopper, made song

Midflight, perched, prinked, and to his art again.”
Whatever he did, his eyes were upon me; he
came to the corner nearest me to sing, and was
so intelligent in look and bearing that I believe
he liked a quiet listener.

His wooing, however, the bird did not intend
me to see, though two or three times I surprised
him at it. The first part that I chanced upon
was curious and amusing. A female, probably
the ‘“‘ beloved object,” stood demurely on one
of the dead top branches of a large tree down
in the garden, while her admirer performed
fantastic evolutions in the air about her. No
flycatcher ever made half the eccentric move-
ments this aerial acrobat indulged in. He flew
straight up very high, executing various extraor-
dinary turns and gyrations, so rapidly they
could not be followed and described, and came
back singing; in a moment he departed in an-
other direction, and repeated the grotesque
performance. He was plainly exerting himself
to be agreeable and entertaining, in mocking-

MOCKING-BIRD DANCE. 39

bird style, and I noticed that every time he
returned from an excursion he perched a little
nearer his audience of one, until, after some
time, he stood upon the same twig, a few inches
from her. They were facing and apparently
trying to stare each other out of countenance ;
and as I waited, breathless, to see what would
happen next, the damsel coquettishly flitted to
another branch. ‘Then the whole scene was
repeated; the most singular and graceful evo-
lutions, the songs, and the gradual approach.
Sometimes, after alighting on a top twig, he
dropped down through the branches, singing,
in a way to suggest the “dropping song”’ so
graphically described by Maurice Thompson,
but never really falling, and never touching
the ground. Each performance ended in his
reaching the twig which she occupied and her
flight to another, until at last, by some appar-
ently mutual agreement, both flew, and I saw
no more.

A remarkable “dance” which I also saw,
with the same bird as principal actor, seems to
me another phase of the wooing, though I must
say it resembled a war-dance as well; but love
is so like war among the lower orders, even of
men, that it is hard to distinguish between

them. I shall not try to decide, only to relate,
and, I beg to say, without the smallest exag-

>»

40 A STATELY MINUET.

geration. The dances I saw were strictly pas-
de-deux, and they always began by a flash of
wings and two birds alighting on the grass,
about a foot apart. Both instantly drew them-
selves up perfectly erect, tail elevated at an
angle of forty-five degrees, and wings held
straight down at the sides. Then followed a
most droll dance. Number one stood like a
statue, while number two pranced around, with
short, mincing steps and dainty little hops
which did not advance him an inch; first he
passed down the right, then turned and went
down the left, all in the queer, unnatural man-
_ ner of short hops and steps,-and holding himself
rigidly erect, while number one always faced
the dancer, whichever way he turned. After a
few moments of this movement, number one
decided to participate, and when his partner
moved to the right he did the same; to the left
' he still accompanied him, always facing, and
maintaining the exact distance from him. Then
number two described a circle around number
one, who turned to face him with short hops
where he stood. Next followed a chassé of
both birds to the right; then a separation, one
dancing to the right and the other to the left,
always facing, and always slowly and with dig-
nity. This stately minuet they kept up for
some time, and appeared so much like a pair

LOVE OR WAR? 41

of old-fashioned human dancers that when, on
one occasion, number two varied the perform-
ance by a spring over the head of his partner,
I was startled, as if an old gentleman had sud-
denly hopped over the head of the grand dame
his vis-a-vis. When this strange new figure
was introduced, number one proved equal to
the emergency, hopping backward, and turning
so dexterously that when his partner alighted
they were facing, and about a foot apart, as
before. The object of all this was very uncer-
tain to alooker-on. It might be the approaches
of love, and quite as probably the wary be-
ginnings of war, and the next feature of the
programme was not explanatory; they rose to-
gether in the air ten feet or more, face to face,
fluttering and snatching at each other, appar-
ently trying to clinch; succeeding in doing so,
they fell to the ground, separated just before
they touched it, and flew away. O wings!
most maddening to a bird-student.

It was not very long after these performances,
which seem to me to belong to the courtship
period, when I noticed that my bird had won
his bride, and they were busy house-hunting.
The place they apparently preferred, and at
last fixed upon, was at an unusual height
for mocking-birds, near the top of one of the
tall pines, and I was no less surprised than

en ee ee ne ee ee ee Se EE ee ee

42. NEST-BUILDING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

pleased to see them lay the foundation of their
home in that spot. I congratulated myself that
at least one brood in North Carolina would
have a chance to come to maturity and be
free; and so persistent is the warfare waged
against this bird— unfortunately marketable at
any stage from the egg —that I almost doubt
if another will. The day after they began
building a northwest storm set in, and for three
days we had high winds and cold weather. In
spite of this, the brave birds persevered, and
finished their nest during those three days, al-
though much of the time they made infrequent
trips. It was really most touching to watch
them at their unnatural task, and remember
that nothing but the cruelty of man forced
them to it (one nest had been destroyed). ‘Their
difficulty was to get up against the wind, and,
having little experience in flying upward, they
made the natural mistake of starting from the
foot of their chosen tree. Sometimes, at first, °
they flew with the body almost perpendicular ;
and afterwards, when they held the body in

proper position, they wished to go so directly

up that they turned the head back over the
shoulder to see where they were going. The
wind, too, beat them far out of their course,
and they were obliged to alight and rest, occa-
sionally being forced to cling to the trunk of a

NO MORE FAMILIARITIES. 43

tree to recover breath and strength to go on.
They never attempted to make the whole as-
cent at once, but always stopped four or five
times, perching on the ends of fallen branches,
of- which there were eight or ten below the
living part of the pine. Even when no wind
disturbed them, they made these pauses on the
way, and it was always a hard task to reach
the top. They learned, after a few days, how-
ever, to begin their ascent at a distance, and
not approach the tree till at least half as high
as they wished to go, which simplified the mat-
ter very much. It was beautiful to see them,
upon reaching the lowest of the living branches,
bound gayly up, as though over a winding stair,
to the particular spot they had fixed upon.
During the building I missed the daily music
of the singer. Occasionally he alighted on the
roof, looked over at me, and bubbled out a few
notes, as much as to say, ‘‘You must excuse
- me now; I am very busy;” but all the time I
hoped that while sitting was going on I should
have him back. I reckoned ignorantly; I did
not know my bird. No sooner was he the pos-
sessor of a house and family than he suddenly
became very wary. No more solos on the roof;
no more confidential remarks; no more famil-
iarities of any sort. Now he must beware of
human beings, and even when on the grass he

44 HE GREW BELLIGERENT.

held himself very erect, wings straight down,
every instant on guard. His happiness de-
manded expression in song, certainly, but in-
stead of confining himself to the roof he circled
the lawn, which was between two and three
hundred feet wide. If he began in a group of
cedars on the right, he sang awhile there, then
flew to the fence next the road without a pause
in the music, and in a few minutes passed to
the group of pines at the left, perched on a
dead branch, and finished his song there. It
was most tantalizing, though I could but admit
it a proof of intelligence.

Another change appeared in the bird with
the advent of family cares: he was more bellig-
erent; he drove the bluebird off the lawn, he
worried the tufted titmouse when it chanced to
alight on his tree, and in the most offensive
way claimed ownership of pine-trees, lawn, and
all the fence bordering the same. Neighboring
mocking-birds disputed his claim, and many a
furious chase took place among the trees. (So
universal is their habit of insisting upon exclu-
sive right to certain grounds that two mocking-
birds are never found nesting very near each

other, in that part of the country. This I was

assured, and found it true of those I observed.)
These little episodes in his life kept the pine-
tree bird from dullness, while his mate was en-

A LIVELY FROLIC. 45

gaged in the top of the tall pine, where, by the
way, he went now and then to see how she was
getting on. Sometimes his spouse received him
amiably, but occasionally, I regret to say, I
heard a “ huff” from the nest that said plainly,
“Don’t you touch those eggs!” And what
was amusing, he acknowledged her right to
dictate in the matter, and meekly took his de-
parture. Whenever she came down for a lunch,
he saw her instantly, and was ready for a frolic.
He dropped to the grass near her, and they
usually indulged in a lively romp, chasing each
other over and through the trees, across the
yard, around the garden, and back to the lawn,
where she went on with her eating, and he re-
sumed his singing.

While I was watching the pine-tree house-
hold, the other nest, in the top of a low, flat-
topped cedar, perhaps twenty-five feet high, and
profusely fringed with Spanish moss, became of
even more interest. I could not see into the nest, —
for there was no building high enough to over-
look it, but I could see the bird when he stood
upon the edge. Sitting, in a warm climate, is
not particularly close work. Although the
weather was cool, yet when the sun was out the
sitter left her nest from six to eight minutes at
a time, and as often as once in twenty minutes.
Of course in rain she had not so much liberty,

46 THE YOUNGSTERS OUT.

and on some days left only when her mate was
ready to take her place, which he frequently
did.

On the ninth day of my watching (I had
not seen the beginning of the sitting), the 3d
of May, I found work was over and the young-
sters were out. There was much excitement
in the cedar-tree, but in a quiet way; in fact,
the birds became so silent and so wary in
approaching the nest that it required the closest
watching to see them go or come, and only
occasionally could I detect any food in the beak.
I discovered very soon that mocking-bird babies
are brought up on hygienic principles, and have
their meals with great regularity. For some
time both parents were exceedingly- busy,
going and coming almost constantly; then
there came a rest of a half hour or more, dur-
ing which no food was brought. Each bird had
its own way of coming to the tree. Madam
came over the roof of the cottage where I sat,
and was exposed to view for only a few feet,
over which she passed so quickly and silently
that I had to be constantly on the alert to see
her at all. The singer had another way, and
by rising behind a hickory-tree beyond the
cedar managed to keep a screen of branches
between him and myself nearly every foot of
the way. I could see them both almost every

IN THE ROLE OF A PROVIDENCE. AT

time, but I could not always tell whether they
carried food. Now the bluebird, honest soul,
always stops in plain sight to rest, with his
mouth full of dainties for his young brood, and
a robin will stand staring at one for two minutes
with three or four wriggling worms in his
beak. Itis quite a different affair in the mock-
ing-bird family, as is certainly natural, after the
persecution it has endured. No special fear of
me was the cause, — it is a marked peculiarity
of the bird; and I think, with a little study,
one could learn to know exactly the moment
the eggs hatch by the sudden silence and wari-
ness of both birds. Poor little creatures! a
sympathetic friend hates to add to the anxiety
they suffer, and he cannot help a feeling of
reproach when the brave little head of the fam-
ily alights on the fence, and looks him straight
in the eye, as if to demand why he is subjected
to all this annoyance. [ had to console myself
by thinking that I was undoubtedly a provi- |
dence to him; for I am certain that nothing
but my watching him so conspicuously that
every negro within a mile saw me, saved his
family to him, so low and easy of access was
the nest.

The day those nestlings were one week old
they uttered their first ery. It was not at all
a “peep,” but a cry, continued a few seconds ;

48 THE BABIES’ CRY.

at first only when food was offered to them,
but as they increased in age and strength more
frequently. It was much like a high-pitched

‘ @-6-6,”’ and on the first day there was but one ©

voice, which grew rapidly stronger as the hours
went by. The next day another and a weaker
cry joined the first, now grown assured and
strong. But the music of the father was
hushed the moment the youngsters began ; from
that time until they had left the nest, he sang
not a note in my hearing. Perhaps he was too
busy, though he never seemed to work so hard
as the robin or oriole; but I think it was

cautiousness, for the trouble of those parents.

was painful to witness. They introduced a
new sound among their musical notes, a harsh
squawk; neither dog nor negro could cross the
yard without being saluted with it. As for me,
though I was meekness itself, taking the most
obscure position I could find, and remaining as
absolutely motionless as possible, they eyed me
with suspicion; from the first they “huffed”
at me, and at this point began to squawk the
moment I entered the gate. On one occasion
I discovered that by changing my seat I could
actually see the nest, which I much desired ; so
I removed while the birds were absent. Madam
was the first to return, with a beakful of food ;
she saw me instantly, and was too much excited

ANXIOUS TIMES. 49

to dispose of her load. She came to my side
of her tree, squawked loudly, flapping her
wings and jerking herself about. I remained
motionless and did not look at her, pretending
to be absorbed in my book; but she refused to
be mollified. It evidently did not please her
to have me see so plainly ; she desired to retain
the friendly screen of leaves which had secured
her a small measure of privacy. I could not
blame her; I felt myself intrusive; and at last
i respected her wishes and returned to my old
place, when she immediately calmed down and
administered the food she had held till then.
Poor mother! those were trying times. Her
solicitude overpowered her discretion, and her
manner proclaimed to every one within hearing
that the nestlings were out. Then, too, on the
eighth day the little ones added their voices,
and soon called loudly enough to attract the
dullest of nest-robbers. I was so fearful lest
that nest should be disturbed that I scarcely
dared to sleep o’ nights; the birds themselves
were hardly more anxious than I was.

The eleventh day of the birdlings’ life was
exceedingly warm, without a breath of air stir-
ring, suffocating to humanity, but preéminently
inspiring to mocking-birds, and every singer
within a mile of me, I am sure, was singing
madly, excepting the newly made parent. Up-

50 OUT OF THE NEST.

on reaching my usual seat I knew at once, by
the louder cry, that a young bird was out of the
nest, and after some searching through the tree
I found him,—a yellowish-drab little fellow,
with very decided wing-markings, a tail per-
haps an inch in length, and soft slate-colored
spots, so long as almost to be streaks, on the
breast. He was scrambling about the branches,
always trying to get a higher place, calling and
perking his insignificant tail in true mocking-
bird fashion. [ think the parents disapproved
this early ambition, for they did not feed him
for a long time, though they passed him to go
to the nest. So far from being lightened, their
cares were greatly increased by the precocious-
ness of the youngster, and from this moment
their trouble and worry were grievous to see.
So much self-reliance has the mocking-bird,
even in the nest, that he cannot be kept there
until his legs are strong enough to bear his
weight, or his wings ready to fly. The full-
grown spirit of the race blossoms out in the
young one at eleven days, and for several more
he.is exposed to so many dangers that I won-
der there is one left in the State.

The parents, one after the other, came down
on to a bush near my seat to remonstrate with
me; and I must admit that so great was my
sympathy, and so uncomfortable did I feel at

THE BABY “FLOPS.” 51

adding in the least to their anxiety, that I
should never have seen that young family
fledged, only that I knew perfectly well what
they did not, that I was a protection to them.
I tried to reassure the mother by addressing
her in her own language (as it were), and she
turned quickly, looked, listened, and returned
to her tree, quieted. This sound is a low
whistling through the teeth, which readily
soothes cage birds. It interests and calms
them, though [ have no notion what it means
to them, for [ am speaking an unknown tongue.

The baby on the tree was not quiet, climbing
about the branches every moment that he was
not engaged in dressing his feathers, the first
and most important business of the newly
emancipated nestling. After an hour or more
of watching there was a sudden stir in the fam-
ily, and the youngster made his appearance on
the ground. He was not under the side of the
tree on which he had been resting, so, although
I did not see the passage, I knew he had not
fallen, as he is popularly said to do, but flown
as well as he was able. I started slowly down
the yard to examine the little stranger, but was
absolutely startled by a cry from the mother,
that sounded exactly like “Go ’way!” as I
have often heard a negro girl say it. Later it
was very familiar, a yearning, anxious heart-
aching sound to hear.

52 OFF ON HIS TRAVELS.

The youth was very lively, starting off at
once on his travels, never for an instant doubt-
ing his own powers. I saw his first movement,
which was a hop, and, what surprised and ~
delighted me, accompanied by a peculiar lifting
of the wings, of which I shall have more to
say. He quickly hopped through the thin grass
till he reached a fence, passed down beside it
till a break in the pickets left an open place
on the bottom board, sprang without hesitation
upon that, and after a moment’s survey of the
country beyond dropped down on the farther
side. Now that was a lane much frequented
by negroes, and, being alarmed for his safety,
IT sent a boy after him, and in a moment had
him in my hand. He was a beautiful little
creature, having a head covered with downy
dark feathers, and soft black eyes, which
regarded me with interest, but not at all with
fear. All this time, of course, the parents were
scolding and crying, and I held him only long
enough to look carefully at him, when I replaced
him on the grass. Off he started at once, di-
rectly west, — like the “march of empire,” —
went through the same fence again, but further
down, and, as I could tell by the conduct of the
parents, in a few moments was safely through
a second fence into a comparatively retired old

garden beyond, where I hoped he would be un-

HE FOUND THE WORLD HARD. 53

molested. Thus departed number one, with
energy and curiosity, to investigate a brand-new
world, fearless in his ignorance and self-confi-
dence, although his entrance into the world had
not been the triumphant fly we might look for,
but an ignominious * flop,” and was irresistibly
and ludicrously suggestive of the manner of
exit from the home nest of sundry individuals
of our own race, which we consider of much
greater importance.

The young traveler set out at exactly ten
o'clock. As soon as he was out of sight, though
not out of hearing,—for the youngster as well
as the parents kept the whole world of boys and
eats well informed of his whereabouts for three
days,—I returned and gave my attention to
number two, who was now out upon the native
tree. This one was much more quiet than his
predecessor. He did not cry, but occasionally
uttered a mocking-bird squawk, though spend-
ing most of his time dressing his plumage, in
preparation for the grand entrée. At twelve
o'clock he made the plunge and came to the
ground ina heap. This was plainly a bird of
different disposition from number one ; his. first
journey evidently tired him. He found the
world hard and disappointing, so he simply
stayed where he dropped in the middle of the
path, and refused to move, though I touched

54 A COOL YOUNG MOCKER.

him as a gentle reminder of the duty he owed to
his parents and his family. He sat crouched upon
the gravel and looked at me with calm black
eye, showing no fear and certainly no intention
of moving, even indulging in a nap while I
waited.

Now appeared upon the scene several persons,
both white and black, each of whom wanted a
young mocking-bird for a cage; but I stood
over him like a god-parent and refused to let
any one touch him. I began to fear that I
should have him on my hands at last, for even
the parents seemed to appreciate his character-
istics and to know that he could not be hurried,
and both were still busy following the vagaries
of number one. The mother now and then re-
turned to look after him and was greatly dis-
turbed by his unnatural conduct—and so
was 1. He appeared stupid, as if he had come
out too soon, and did not even know how to hop.
It was twenty minutes by the watch before he
moved. His mother’s calls at last aroused him;
he raised himself upon his shaky little legs,
cried out, and started off exactly as number
one had done,—westward, hopping, and lifting
his wings at every step. Then I saw by the
enormous amount of white on his wings that he
was asinger. He went as far as the fence, and —
there he paused again. In vain did the mother

A

PRESERVED FROM CAGES. 55

come and scold; in vain did I try to push
him along. He simply knew his own will, and
meant to have it; the world might be strange,
but he was not in the least interested. He
rested in that spot fifteen or twenty minutes
more, while I stood guard as before, and pre-
served him from cages of both negroes and
whites. At last he did manage to squeeze
through the fence, and, much relieved, I left him
to the old birds, one of whom was down in the
lot beyond the garden, no doubt following up
his ambitious first-born.

Whoever, meanwhile, was left in the nest had
a poor chance of food, and one was already cry-
ing. It was not until six o'clock that the birds
seemed to remember the nestling; then it was
well fed,and left again. Nothing would be
easier than to follow the wandering youngsters,
see how they got on and how soon they were
able to fly, but this so disturbed the parents I
had not the heart to do it; and besides I feared
they would starve the infants, for one was never
fed while I was near. Doubtless their experi-
ence of the human race forbade their confiding
in the kindly intentions of any one. It was well
that only two of the young appeared in one day,
for keeping track of them was so serious a mat-
ter that two parents could scarcely manage it.

Number three differed from both of his el-

56 A CRY-BABY.

ders; he was a cry-baby. He was not bright
and lively like number one, and he did not
squawk like number two, but he cried con-
stantly, and at six p. M. I left him calling and
crying at the top of his voice. Very early the next
morning I hastened to the scene of yesterday’s
excitement. Number three was out on the tree.
I could hear number two still crying and squawk-
ing in the garden, and from the position and
labors of the male I concluded that number one
was in the next lot. It was a dismal, damp
morning, every grass-blade loaded with water,
and a heavy fog driving in from the sea. I
hoped number three would know enough to stay
at home, but his fate was upon him, and no
rain was ever wet enough to overcome destiny.
At about eight o’clock he stretched his little
wings and flew to the ground,—a very good
flight for his family, nearly thirty feet, twice as
far as either of his predecessors had gone; si-
lently, too, —no fuss about it. He began at
once the baby mocker’s hop with lifted wings,
headed for the west fence, jumped upon the
lower board, squeezed through and was off down
the garden before the usual crowd of spectators
had collected to strive for his head. I was de-
lighted. The parents, who were not near when
he flew, came back soon and found him at once.
I left him to them and returned to my place.

THE EMPTY NEST. 57

But silence seemed to have fallen upon the
cedar, late so full of life. In vain I listened for
another cry; in vain I watched for another visit
from the parents. All were busy in the garden
and lot,and if any baby were in that nest it
must surely starve. Occasionally a bird came
back, hunted a little over the old ground in the
yard, perched a moment on the fence, and sa-
luted me with a low squawk, but their interest
in the place was plainly over.

After two hours I concluded the nest was
empty; and a curious performance of the head
of the late family convinced me it was so. He
came quite near to me, perched on a bush in the
yard, fixed his eyes on me, and then, with great
deliberation, first huffed, then squawked, then
sang a little, then flew. I do not know what the
bird meant to say, but this is what it expressed
to me: “ You’ve worried us all through this
trying time, but you didn’t get one of our
babies! Hurrah!”

In the afternoon I had the nest brought down
to me. For foundation it had a mass of small
twigs from six to eight inches long, crooked
and forked and straight, which were so slightly
held together that they could only be handled
by lifting with both hands, and placing at once
in a cloth, where they were carefully tied in.
Within this mass of twigs was the nest proper,

58 THE MOST GRACEFUL BIRD.

thick and roughly constructed, three and a half
inches in inside diameter, made of string, rags,
newspaper, cotton wadding, bark, Spanish moss,
and feathers, lined with fine root fibre, I think.
The feathers were not inside for lining, but out-
side on the upper edge. It was, like the foun-
dation, so frail that, though carefully managed,
it could only be kept in shape by a string around
it, even after the mass of twigs had been re-
moved. I have a last year’s nest, made of ex-
actly the same materials, but in a much more
substantial manner; so perhaps the cedar-tree
birds were not so skillful builders as some of
their family.

The mocking-bird’s movements, excepting in
flight, are the perfection of grace; not even
the cat-bird can rival him in airy lightness, in
easy elegance of motion. In alighting on a
fence, he does not merely come down upon it;
his manner is fairly poetical. He flies a little
too high, drops like a feather, touches the perch
lightly with his feet, balances and tosses upward
his tail, often quickly running over the tips of
half a dozen pickets before he rests. Passing
across the yard, he turns not to avoid a taller
tree or shrub, nor does he go through it; he
simply bounds over, almost touching it, as if
for pure sport. In the matter of bounds the
mocker is without a peer. The upward spring

PLAYING IN A BRUSH PILE. 59

while singing is an ecstatic action that must be
seen to be appreciated ; he rises into the air as
though too happy to remain on earth, and open-
ing his wings, floats down, singing all the while.
It is indescribable, but enchanting to see. In
courtship, too, as related, he makes effective use
of this exquisite movement. In simple food-
hunting on the ground, —a most prosaic occu-
pation, truly, —on approaching a hummock of
grass he bounds over it instead of going around.
In alighting on a tree he does not pounce upon
the twig he has selected, but upon a lower one,
and passes quickly up through the branches, as
lithe as aserpent. So fond is he of this exercise
that one which I watched amused himself half
an hour at a time in a pile of brush; starting
from the ground, slipping easily through up to
the top, standing there a moment, then flying
back and repeating the performance. Should
the goal of his journey be a fence picket, he
alights on the beam which supports it, and hops
gracefully to the top.

Like the robin, the mocking-bird seeks his
food from the earth, sometimes digging it, but
oftener picking it up. His manner on the
ground is much like the robin’s; he lowers the
head, runs a few steps rapidly, then erects him-
self very straight fora moment. But he adds
to this familiar performance a peculiar and

60 LIFTING THE WINGS.

beautiful movement, the object of which I have
been unable to discover. At the end of a run
he lifts his wings, opening them wide, displaying
their whole breadth, which makes him look like
a gigantic butterfly, then instantly lowers his
head and runs again, generally picking up some-
thing as he stops. A correspondent in South
Carolina, familiar with the ways of the bird,
suggests that his object is to startle the grass-
hoppers, or, as he expresses it, to “ flush his
game.” I watched very closely and could not

fix upon any theory more plausible, though it

seemed to be weakened by the fact that the
nestlings, as mentioned above, did the same
thing before they thought of looking for food.
The custom is not invariable ; sometimes it is
done, and sometimes not.

The mocking-bird cannot be said to possess
a gentle disposition, especially during the time
of nesting. He does not seem malicious, but
rather mischievous, and his actions resemble
the naughty though not wicked pranks of an
active child. At that time he does, it must be
admitted, lay claim to a rather large territory,
considering his size, and enforces his rights
with many a hot chase and noisy dispute, as
remarked above. Any mocking-bird who dares
to flirt a feather over the border of the ground
he chooses to consider his own has to battle

fy
i 4
SSS rape —

WORRYING THE CROW. 61

with him. A quarrel is a curious operation,
usually a chase, and the war-cry is so peculiar
and apparently so incongruous that it is fairly
laughable. It is a rough breathing, like the
‘‘huff”’ of an angry cat, and a serious dispute
between the birds reminds one of nothing but
a disagreement in the feline family. If the
stranger does not take the hint, and retire at
the first huff, he is chased, over and under trees
and through branches, so violently that leaves
rustle and twigs are thrust aside, as long as the
patience or wind holds out. On one occasion
the defender of his homestead kept up a lively
singing all through the furious flight, which
lasted six or eight minutes, ——a remarkable
thing.

To others than his own kind the mocker
seems usually indifferent, with the single ex-
ception of the crow. So long as this bird kept
over the salt marsh, or flew quite high, or even
held his mouth shut, he was not noticed; but
let him fly low over the lawn, and above all let
him “ caw,’ and the hot-headed owner of the
place was upon him. He did not seem to have
any special plan of attack, like the king-bird or
the oriole ; his aim appeared to be merely to
worry the enemy, and in this he was untiring,
flying madly and without pause around a perch-
ing crow until he took flight, and then attempt-

62 THE MARVELOUS SONG.

ing to rise above him. In this he was not al-
ways successful, not being particularly expert
on the wing, though I have two or three times
seen the smaller bird actually rest on the back
of the foe for three or four seconds at a time.
The song of the free mocking-bird! With it
ringing in my ear at this moment, after having
feasted upon it and gloried in it day and night
for many weeks, how can I criticise it! How
can I do otherwise than fall into rhapsody, as
does almost every one who knows it and de-
lights in it, as Ido! It is something for which ©
one might pine and long, as the Switzer for the
Ranz-des- Vaches, and the more one hears it the
more he loves it. J think there will never
come a May in my life when I shall not long
to fold my tent and take up my abode in the
home of the mocking-bird, and yet I cannot
say what many do. For variety, glibness, and
execution the song is marvelous. It is a bril-
liant, bewildering exhibition, and one listens in
a sort of ecstasy almost equal to the bird’s own,
for this, it seems to me, is the secret of the
power of his music; he so enjoys it himself, he
throws his whole soul into it, and he is so mag-
netic that he charms a listener into belief that
nothing can be like it. His manner also lends
enchantment; he is seldom still. If he begins
in a cedar-tree, he soon flies to the fence, sing-

PURE ECSTASY. 63

ing as he goes, thence takes his way to a roof,
and so on, changing his place every few min-
utes, but never losing a note. His favorite
perch is the top spire of a pointed tree, low
cedar or young pine, where he can bound into
the air as already described, spread his wings,
and float down, never omitting a quaver. It
seems like pure ecstasy; and however critical
one may be, he cannot help feeling deep sym-
pathy with the joyous soul that thus expresses
itself. With all the wonderful power and va-
riety, the bewitching charm, there is not the
“feeling,” the heavenly melody, of the wood-
thrush. As an imitator, I think he is much
overrated. I cannot agree with Lanier that

“ Whate’er birds did or dreamed, this bird could say ;”’

and that the birds are jealous of his song, as
Wilson says, seems absurd. On the con-
trary, I do not think they recognize the coun-
terfeit. The tufted titmouse called as loudly |
and constantly all day as though no mocking-
bird shouted his peculiar and easily imitated
call from the house-top ; the cardinal grosbeak
sang every day in the grove, though the mocker
copied him more closely than any other bird.
He repeats the notes, rattles out the call, but
he cannot put the cardinal’s soul into them.
The song of every bird seems to me the expres-

64 IMITATION, BUT NOT A COPY.

sion of himself; it is a perfect whole of its
kind, given with proper inflections and pauses,
and never hurried ; whereas, when the mocker
delivers it, it is simply one more note added to
his repertory, uttered in his rapid staccato, in
his loud, clear voice, interpolated between in-
congruous sounds, without expression, and lack-
ing in every way the beauty and attraction of
the original.

The song consists entirely of short staccato |
phrases, each phrase repeated several times, per-
haps twice, possibly five or six times. If he has
a list of twenty or thirty, — and I think he has
more, — he can make almost unlimited changes
and variety, and can sing for two hours or
longer, holding his listener spellbound and al-
most without consciousness that he has repeated
anything.

So winning and so lasting is the charm with
which this bird enthralls his lovers that scarcely
had I left his enchanted neighborhood before
everything else was forgotten, and there remain
of that idyllic month only beautiful pictures
and delightful memories.

“OQ thou heavenly bird!”

Bright drops of tune, from oceans infinite

Of melody, sipped off the thin-edged wave
And trickling down the bank, discourses brave
Of serious matter that no man may guess,
Good-fellow greetings, cries of light distress ;
All these but now within the house are heard:
O Death, wast thou too deaf to hear the bird ?

SIDNEY LANIER.

iw halle

Mara hisis..

et a ll iti,

IV.

A TRICKSY SPIRIT.

—¢——_

For bird-lovers who know the mocking-bird
only as a captive in our houses he has few at-
tractions: a mere loud-voiced echo of the inhar-
monious sounds man gathers about his home,
— car-bells, street cries, and other unpleasing
noises, — and choosing for his performances the
hours one wants to sleep. Unfortunate is the
neighborhood in which one is kept. Such was
my feeling about the bird before I knew him
in freedom, where he has a song of his own.
But in my search for native birds I often saw
the mocker, was surprised to notice his intelli-
gence of look and manner, and at last took one
into my bird-room, resolving that the moment
he began to ‘“*mock” he should be given to
some one who liked having the street in his
house. My bird was very obliging in the mat-
ter; six months I watched him daily, and he
was kind enough not to utter a sound, except
an occasional harsh ‘*‘ chack.” Probably he had

68 - TAKING NOTES.

too much liberty and too many interests about
him; whatever the reason, I thanked him for
it, and heartily enjoyed the study of his man-
ners. |

The bird was perhaps the most intelligent
one I ever watched, the cat-bird being his only
rival in that regard. Fear was unknown to
him, and from the moment of his arrival he
was interested in everything that took place
around him ; looking at each bird in succession ;
making close study of every member of the
family ; noticing the sounds of the street, in-
cluding the sparrow broils on the porch-roof ;
in fact, extremely wide-awake and observing.
To the goldfinch’s song he gave attention,
standing motionless except for a slight nervous
jerk of one wing, looking and listening as in-
tently as though studying the notes for future
use. The freedom of the birds in the room sur-
prised him, as he showed plainly by the eager
glances with which he followed every movement
and marked each act. Upon joining the party
of the free, he took note of pictures in a news-
paper, distinguishing objects in the cut, which
he tried to pick up, as a small wheel and a bar.
In colors he had a choice, and his selection was
red; from a vase of roses of many hues he
never failed to draw out the red one to pull it
to pieces on the floor.

HE APPEARED TO REASON. 69

Liberty the mocking-bird emphatically en-
joyed, and at once recognized a string attached
to his door as a device to deprive him of it;
after vainly trying to pick it apart, he betook
himself to another cage, and refused to go back
to his own. In any strange cage he stood
quietly while I walked up to him, and made no
attempt to leave his quarters, knowing perfectly
well that I did not care to shut the door upon
him; but when at home I could not lift my
hands, or make the slightest movement, with-
out causing him to dart out of the cage in-
stantly. Having contention with his room-
mates about the bits of apple put out for all to
enjoy, he often carried away a piece to eat at
his leisure. From habit he flew first to the top
of a cage, that being his favorite perching place ;
but he evidently appreciated that, if he dropped
the morsel, he should lose it through the wires;
and after looking one side and the other, plainly
satisfying himself of this fact, he went to the
table with it. I never before saw a bird who
did not have to learn the treacherous nature of
cage roofs by experience. He appeared to work
things out in his mind, —to reason, in truth.
One cold morning in spring, when the furnace
fire was out, a large, brilliant lamp was put by
his cage to take off the chill, for he felt changes
keenly. He seemed to understand it at once,

70 HE WAS BIDING HIS TIME.

and though, no doubt, it was his first experi-
ence of warmth from a light, he drew as near
it as possible, and remained there perfectly
quiet until the sun warmed the room and it was
removed. Fear, as I said, he knew not, com-
ing freely upon the desk, or even upon my lap,
after apple or bread, or anything he fancied.

It was plain to see that this bird’s first week
with us was one of quiet study and observation.
Not a movement of bird or man escaped his no-
tice. He wished to understand, to take meas-
ure of his neighbors, to be master of the situa-
tion. This was manifested not only by his
thoughtful manner and his wise and knowing
looks, but by his subsequent conduct. During
this period, also, he submitted to impositions
from all the birds, even the smallest, without
resentment. ‘The wood-thrush easily drove him
away from the apple; the little goldfinch chased
him from his perch. He appeared to be meek-
ness itself; but he was biding his time, he was
making up his mind.

The first time the mocking-bird’s door was
opened he was not in the least surprised; no
doubt, seeing others at liberty, he had expected
it. At any rate, whatever his emotions, he in-
stantly ran out on the perch placed in his door-
way and surveyed his new world from this posi-
tion. He was in no panic, not even in haste.

eee 1 — = :
SSS SS SS ee ee ee — a - a ~y

TOUR OF INSPECTION. th

When fully ready, he began his tour of inspec-
tion. First, to see if he really could reach the
trees without, through those large, clear open-
ings, he tried the windows, each of the three,
but gently, not bouncing against them so vio-
lently as to fall to the floor, as more impetuous
or less intelligent birds invariably do. Having
proved each to be impassable, he was satisfied,
and never tried again. Next, the ceiling inter-
ested him, and he flew all around the room,
touching it gently everywhere, to assure him-
self of its nature. Convinced thus in a short
time that his bounds were only widened, not
removed, he went on to investigate closely what
he had looked at from a distance; every bird-
cage, inside as well as outside, if the owner hap-
pened to be away, every piece of furniture, pic-
tures, books, and the pincushion, — where he
was detained some time trying to carry off the
large black heads of shawl-pins. The looking-
glass absorbed him most completely on the first
day ; he flew against it, he hovered before it,
slowly passing from bottom to top, alighted on
top and looked over behind. I think he never
solved that mystery to his own satisfaction, as
he did that of the window-glass, which must
have been quite as inexplicable, and it was never
without a certain charm for him. He had no
trouble in finding his way home: standing on

12 HIS POSITION TO BE SETTLED.

a cage next to his, he saw his own door-perch,
recognized it instantly (though he had been
- upon it only once), and, being hungry, dropped
to it and ran into the cage.

The new-comer soon made thorough acquaint-
ance with all his surroundings, and had leisure
to turn his attention to a little matter yet un-
settled ; namely, his position in the small colony
about him. The first few days, as already noted,
he submitted to impositions ; allowed himself to
be driven away from the slices of apple on the
matting, and turned from the bathing-dish on
the floor. This was, however, the calm before
the storm; though after all that is hardly a cor-
rect comparison, since there was never the least
“storm ” about his manner; he was composure
itself. Having calmly and patiently considered
the state of affairs, he suddenly asserted him-
self and took the position he felt was his right,
—at the head. It soon became evident that he
was prepared to defend the situation by force of
arms. He conducted his conquests systemat-
ically, and subdued one after the other, begin-
ning with the least. !

The English goldfinch had been very saucy,
scolding and flying over him as he went around
the room, in the small bird’s way ; but one day
it came to a sudden end. The goldfinch in his
cage scolded the stranger for alighting too near

WAR ON THE FINCH. 73

his door. The mocking-bird turned, looked
sharply at him, ruffled up his feathers, and
jumped heavily to the top of the cage, turning
one eye down upon his small foe with an air that
said, ** Who is this midget that insults me?”
The finch was surprised, but did not fully ap-
preciate the significance of this change of man-
ner until he was let out, when he found at once
that his amiable neighbor had suddenly become
an active enemy, who chased him around the
room till he panted for breath, and would not
allow him a moment’s rest or peace anywhere.
This was strange experience for the little fel-
low, for heretofore none of the large birds had
ever disturbed him. He scolded furiously, but
he went; no one could stand against that de-
termined approach. If the goldfinch wished to
bathe, his persecutor took his place on the near-
est perch, not a foot away, thus driving him to
the floor with the intention of using the big
birds’ bath. He circled around the edge, but it
did not suit, and he returned to his own, looked
at his enemy, spattered a little, went back to
the big dish, returned again, and thus vibrated
between the two for several minutes, while the
mocking-bird stood motionless, not offering any
molestation, but plainly wishing to worry him.
The final act occurred when both chanced acci-
dentally to be in the same cage, not the home

74 A CURIOUS SCENE.

of either. The mocking-bird, without provoca-
tion, dropped from the upper perch upon the
finch, who uttered a sharp cry and darted away.
Two or three little feathers flew, though no
hurt could baseen ; but the smaller bird panted
violently for a half hour, as though frightened,
and for four or five hours sat quietly on a perch,
neither eating nor making a sound, —a very
unusual proceeding for the lively chattering lit-
tle fellow. ‘This proved to be a declaration of
open war, and was so vigorously followed up
that before many days the larger bird’s door
was not opened until his victim had had his
outing and returned to his home. Teasing
never lost its attraction for him, however. He
delighted to alight on the cage and worry his
little foe, or to stand near his door and stare
at him. On one such occasion a curious scene
occurred. They stood three inches apart, with
the wires between them, when the finch sud-
denly began reaching upward as far as possible ;
taller and taller he stretched up, till he fairly
stood on tiptoe. The mocking-bird, not to be
outdone, imitated the movement on his side of
the bars, of course towering far above his copy.
It seemed to afford both of them great satisfac-
tion; perhaps it expressed contempt more fully
than was possible in any other way.

The largest bird in the room, a Mexican

A DELIBERATE INSULT. ts

thrush, was considerably stronger and fiercer
than our native wood-thrush, and it seemed ab-
surd for the mocking-bird to measure swords
with him. So it would have been but for the
fact that the Mexican, having lost part of his
wing feathers, was clumsy, unable to fly readily,
and no match for his active, agile antagonist ;
he always conquered when hostilities reached
the point of a personal encounter, but he was
soon soured, and declined to meet the enemy.
Two or three times they flew up together, like
quarrelsome cocks, but the decisive and final
dispute was over the bathing-dish. It hap-
pened that morning that the Mexican came out
before the goldfinch was shut up, and hence the
the mocking-bird’s door was not yet opened.
He flew at once to the top of his neighbor’s
cage to dress his feathers and shake himself
out. It looked like a deliberate insult, and the
captive in his cage evidently so regarded it;
he crouched on the upper perch and opened his
mouth at the enemy, who calmly went on with
his operations. The moment the finch was safe
at home I opened the door, and the mocking-
bird came out in haste. Pretending not to see
the Mexican, he descended to the bathing-dish,
doubtless to cool his heated blood. The first
splash, however, interested the enemy on his
roof, and he flew to the floor; but the bather

ieceutd-—eeetennt tuts ceed ae ee are bac AAA SS ae ORS See. eee

76 OVER THE BATH.

paid no apparent attention to him, and went
on with his business. The Mexican approached
slowly, a step at a time, with a low, warning
“‘chack,” which meant, ‘*‘ Make way there, I’m
coming.” The mocking-bird, manifestly hear-
ing him, did not take the hint, nor look at his
assailant, but serenely continued his splashing.
The Mexican advanced to within six inches
before he was convinced that force would be
necessary. When he decided upon an attack,
he manifested it by a grotesque little hop a few
inches into the air, but this not alarming the
enemy he drew near to the dish. Now at last
the bather condescended to notice him. He
stood up in the water and faced his adversary,
bowing rather slowly and with dignity, feathers
ruffled, and beak opening in the curious way
usual with him, —stretching it wide, then clos-
ing it, and constantly repeating the operation. °

After looking a moment at this peculiar dis-
play, the Mexican hopped upon the edge of the
dish, and in the same instant, as though moved
by the same machinery, the mocking-bird sprang
backward out upon the floor. The usurper
paid him no further attention, but proceeded
to bathe, while his discomfited rival took a
stand on the edge of the disputed dish, which
was ten inches in diameter, and fanned his
wings violently. I cannot otherwise name this

HOSTILITIES CONTINUED. TT

extraordinary movement, the wings raised high
above his head, and moved quickly back and
forth with a fanning motion. The Mexican
turned suddenly to him and he flew. Two or
three times he repeated the performance, but
was each time forced to fly before the large,
strong beak wielded by his opponent, who fin-
ished his bath, and retired to a perch to dress
his feathers. Now the mocking-bird resumed
his splashing; but when thoroughly wet, the
thought seemed to strike him that he was not
in good fighting trim, and must dry himself as
quickly as possible to be ready for war, which
he at once did by flirting and shaking himself,
bounding from one end to the other of a perch,
as though he had suddenly gone mad. He was
soon in order, aud more than ready to resume
hostilities. ‘The enemy still occupied his favor-
ite position upon his roof. Two cages stood
side by side on a shelf, and across the tops of
them, with great noise and tramping of feet, the
Mexican delighted to run, thus amusing himself
an hour at atime. Seeing him off his guard,
the wary fellow watched his chance, and when
his foe was at one end of the course he sud-
denly alighted on the other. The Mexican ran
madly at him, clattering his bill furiously, when
he gracefully rose from his place, flew over,
and perched on the other end. ‘The run was

78 OVER THE APPLE.

repeated, and the mischievous bird continued
the annoyance until his victim was exhausted,
panting, and in great excitement. From that
day the Mexican gave up the contest with his
too lively antagonist, and refused to come out
of his cage at all; so that in fact the stranger
reduced the colony to submission.

With the wood-thrush, the encounters dif-
fered from both the preceding. ‘This bird had
opened hostilities when the mocker first ap-
peared, presuming on being the older resident,
and the only bird who cared much to be on the
floor. The disputed object, as already men-
tioned, was the apple, which they received on
the matting, two pieces being placed at some
distance apart. Seeing the thrush engaged
with one, the mocking-bird quietly dropped to
the other, when instantly the thrush deserted
his own, ran hastily across the room, and
claimed that piece. As he approached, the
mocking-bird lifted himself into the air by a
beautiful and graceful movement; he did not
seem to fly, but to simply rise on wing. The
thrush being occupied with that piece, the
new-comer descended upon the abandoned slice ;
but the inhospitable bird wanted that also.
Even when three or more pieces were at their
disposal, the thrush tried to monopolize them
all, though the plan of collecting them in one

; ,

A WAR DANCE. 79

place never seemed to occur to him. After a
little of this contention, the mocker generally
succeeded in carrying off a bit to some quiet
place, where he could eat at his leisure. Wish-
ing them to live peaceably, I placed a slice of
the fruit on a high gas-fixture, where the
stranger was fond of alighting and no other
bird ever went. He understood at once, flew
over to it, and ate his fill. The Mexican ob-
served this, and tramped over his cages (it was
before he had retired from the world) in a
rage, seeing “ good times going on,” and feel-
ing, evidently, unable to fly so high. Some-
what later the thrush noticed the excitement,
flew heavily up, with difficulty alighted beside
the apple, snatched it off, and carried it to the
floor.

Settlement of difficulties between these two
birds was no chance happening; it was, to all
appearance, a regularly planned campaign, and,
like a savage, the aggressor put on his war
paint and danced his war dance. It was ex-
tremely interesting to watch, although painful
to realize that a bird could be animated by
emotions so— must I call them human? He
selected, for the declaration of his intentions,
a moment when the thrush was in his own
house and the door open. ‘The approach to
this cage was by a light ladder, the top round

80 SETTLING THE THRUSH.

of which, about a foot in length, rested perhaps
four inches from the cage, and level with the
door. Upon this round the mocking-bird exe-
cuted what has been called his war dance, shak-
ing himself, shuffling (or moving along without
raising the feet), and agitating his feathers in
such a way that they rustled like stiff new silk.
After a few minutes of this performance he few
away, returning presently to repeat it. This
he did again and again, and his motive was
plain. ‘*You’ve domineered long enough,”
his manner said: “now come out here, and
we'll settle this matter at once.” ‘The bird in
the cage, though -plainly surprised at this
sudden exhibition of spirit, received it like a
thrush — in silent dignity. He paid no atten-
tion to the demonstration further than to keep
his eye upon the enemy, unless he appeared to
think of entering the door, when he turned his
open bill in that direction. A long time hav-
ing passed in these manceuvres, the thrush, ap-
parently tired of waiting for the belligerent to
vacate his front doorstep, retired to the upper
perch, and the mocking-bird immediately en-
tered below, took his stand by the food-dish,
and defied the owner, who came with open
beak to dispute him, but after a few moments’
silent protest returned to the high perch, leay-
ing the intruder to eat and drink as he chose.

DECIDES TO MOVE. 81

Another point to settle was the possession of
the apple. The next time the thrush, not
warned by previous operations, hurried up to
claim a slice of the fruit which his foe had
marked for his own, he was met by resistance.
To avoid the rush, the mocking-bird lifted him-
self a few inches, but came down on the same
spot. The thrush, astonished, but thrush-like
to the last, stood motionless where he had
stopped, his body drawn to a point, bill slightly
open and turned toward the bold intruder.
That bird ignored his attitude and placidly
went on eating, and three similar experiences
ended that annoyance.

One thing still remained unsettled: the
mocking-bird decided to change his residence.
No reason was apparent, but he preferred a
special place in the room, a certain end of a
particular shelf; and no matter what cage was
there, he insisted on taking possession. The
day he determined on this removal, he went in
while the resident — the thrush — was out, and,
having eaten, proceeded to the upper perches,
and began jumping back and forth on them, as
if at home. In due time the owner returned,
visited the food-dishes, and started for the
upper regions, but was met by a threatening
attitude from the bird already there. He
seemed to think the matter not worth quarrel-

82 IN THE NEW HOUSE.

ing over, since he readily settled himself on the
middle perch, where he made a most elaborate
and deliberate toilet, dressing every feather
with care, and spending a half hour over the
operation. All this time the invader stood on
the top perch, backed against the wires, his
long tail on one side like the train of a lady’s
dress, invincible determination in his manner.
The calm indifference of the house-owner evi-
dently did not please him, and the long drawn-
out toilet was irritating; he grew thirsty, and
dropped to the floor to drink, when the thrush
remonstrated by a low, rapid ‘chook, chook,
chook,” and the mocking-bird made an impa-
tient dive at him. This silenced but apparent-
ly did not hurt the bird, who stayed as long as
he chose, and then quietly came out. From
that moment the usurper claimed the cage,
and the amiable owner easily contented himself
with the one the other had deserted.

When the mocking-bird had thoroughly es-
tablished himself in every right and privilege
he chose to consider his own, I hoped there
would be peace, but I had not sounded the
depths in his character; he began to tease.
Not content with complete victory, life seemed
dull without some object to worry. I really
think it was his amusement; he certainly went
at it asifit were. I noticed him one morning,

ov ian
a
re

TEASING THE THRUSH. 83

standing on the ladder before his door, appar-
ently working himself up to something. He
first looked at me, —I had a book, and pre-
tended not to see him,—then at the thrush,
who was on the floor as usual; he jerked his
body this way and that, puffed out his feathers,
especially on the throat and breast, held his
tail on one side and turned upward at an angle
of forty-five degrees, which gave him a wicked
expression. He looked full of life to the tips
of his toes, and greatly excited. The other
birds observed him; the Mexican in his cage
rustled his wings, jerked his body, and at last
gave his usual cry. Even the little goldfinch
was impressed and looked on with interest.

All this agitation did not escape the notice
of the bird on the floor, who stood silent, plainly
understanding, and waiting for the next move.
Finally the mocking-bird started, gracefully and
without haste. He first flew easily and lightly
to the desk, in a moment to the back of a chair,
then deliberately to an arm, next to the seat, |
and lastly to a round; at each step pausing,
shaking himself, and threatening. When he
reached the floor, he ran a few steps toward
the thrash, stopped short, erected himself very
straight, and puffed out as big as possible;
then another little run, and the operation was
repeated. He proceeded till within a foot of

84 A CHANGE OF TACTICS.

the thrush, when he alternated the upright po-
sition with a lowered head, and bill pointed
toward the foe, changing from one to the other
very suddenly. When he came so near, the
thrush crouched flat on the floor, with beak
turned squarely against the approaching bird,
and thus awaited the onslaught.

In that attitude the mocking-bird did not
apparently like to attack him.. He threatened
a long time, then retreated gradually, making
feints, turning, running a few inches, and bring-
' ing up suddenly with a half turn back. In this
manner he moved away for some distance, then
flew to the round of the chair, the seat, the
arm, the back, and so on till he reached the
ladder again. Then for the first time the
thrush changed his position and rose to his feet,
when, without the least warning, the mocker
flung himself madly after him, and the thrush,
unprepared, ran, with a sharp cry. Obviously
the mocking-bird, finding the first method of
attack, which was probably his usual one, a
failure, decided to try another, as the event
proved, successfully. The excitement of this
performance evidently gave him pleasure, no
doubt helped to pass away the long hours, for
he often indulged in it, always making his ap-
proach in the same deliberate way, tripping
daintily a step or two at a time, examining

5 a
Le eee

At aa -_

—_ . —— lt ——

bi
+
wy

‘“WHO’S DONE ANYTHING?” 85

everything in a careless way, tasting a piece of
apple-skin, lifting a bit of thread, toying and
dallying to all appearance, as he moved, still
always advancing, and never turning aside from
his purpose till he reached the distance of a
foot from the thrush, crouching motionless with
crown feathers erect. At that point he often
stood a moment, looking grimly at his victim,
then gave a quick, exaggerated jump which
earried him forward not more than an inch,
but sent the thrush, in a panic, running half
across the room, where he brought up in a
heap, — his claws sprawled as they slipped on
the matting, every feather standing up, — and
made no attempt to draw his feet together. A
slow, formal attack he could meet, but a sud-
den rush was irresistible. Then the assailant
turned, slowly, gracefully, the personification
of tranquillity, his air saying, ‘* Who’s done
anything?” yet-taking a direct line for the
enemy, approaching in the same way, by easy
stages, but relentlessly drawing nearer and
nearer, till he ended by a quick plunge, which
sent the thrush off with a cry. In a moment
he began again, teasing, following, tormenting ;
so wily, so wicked, so determined !

The motions of this bird were most bewitching ;
his flight the perfection of grace. He never
flew straight across the room as if on business,

967° BEWITCHING MANNERS.

but always in a dancing, loitering, easy way ;
hovering to examine a picture, slowly pausing on
wing to look at anything, turning, wheeling, up
or down or any way, buoyant and light as the
air itself. It was his delight to exercise on
wing about the room, diving between the rounds
of the ladder, darting under a stretched string
or into a cage full dash. His feet found rest
on any point, however small,—the cork in a
bottle, the tip of a gas-burner, or the corner
post of a chair; nothing was too small or too
delicately balanced for his light touch, and he
never upset anything. He enjoyed running up
and down a ladder six feet long with six or eight
rounds, passing over it so rapidly that he could
not be seen to touch it at any point, yet not
using his wings he must have stepped upon
every round. He always used his legs with a
freedom rarely seen in a bird, not moving them
together as usual in his kind, but handling them
with astonishing independence of each other.
The body of this bird was capable of wonder-
ful expression, not only in the free use of each
member, but every feather seemed under his
voluntary control. The spasmodic movement
of the wings in excitement, common to many
birds, was accomplished in an original manner
by holding the wing slightly away from the
body, and spreading or opening it a little at

EXPRESSION OF EMOTIONS. 87

each jerk, without changing its position toward
his side. His tail seemed as loosely connected
with his body as if it were hung on wires; it
moved even with his breathing, and the em-
phatic flirt of the member was an insult which
every bird in the room understood. Intense in-
terest in any sound was indicated by raising the
feathers over the ears alone, which gave him the
droll appearance of wearing velvet “ear muffs.”
In expressing other emotions he could erect the
feathers of his chin, his shoulders or his back,
either part alone, or all together, as he chose.
A true bird of the south, he did not enjoy our
climate, and if the room became too cool he
made his opinion known by drawing, his head
down into his shoulders, with every feather on
his body fluffed out, even to the base of the
beak, till he looked as if wrapped in delicate
gray furs to his nose, and almost burying his
eyes.

The mocking-bird’s emotions were so intense
and so originally displayed that he was a con-
stant source of interest. A hand-glass lying face
up gave opportunity for an amusing exhibition
one day. Leaning over it, he puffed out every
feather, opened his mouth, and tried the glass
with his beak at every point. Meeting no satis-
faction, he turned to leave it, but first peeped
slyly over the edge to see if the stranger were

88 IN THE LOOKING-GLASS.

still there, no doubt unable to get over his sur-
prise at seeing a bird in that position and ready
to meet his bill at every point. The same glass
standing up brought out a different demonstra-
tion. He stood in front of it and swelled him-
self out, while the feathers of the shoulders and
breast were erected. Then he opened his
mouth wide and attacked the reflection, but was
astonished to meet the glass. He touched the
bill of his double with his own, and moved all
the way to the bottom of the glass, not taking
it away, but apparently trying to seize the one
which opposed his. He lowered his head as
though to take hold of the enemy’s foot, then
pulled himself up as straight as a soldier,
wings and tail constantly jerking with excite-
ment. After indulging for some time in these
proceedings, he dodged around behind the glass,
plainly expecting to pounce upon his opponent,
and surprised not to do so. Several times he
drew himself up, swelled out his breast, and
blustered before the glass. Once he flew up
with the reflection in the manner of a quar-
relsome cock, and upon reaching the top of the
glass, naturally went over and landed behind,
without an enemy in sight. Upon this he stared
a moment, as if dazed, then shook himself out,
and flew away in evident disgust.

The deliberate, leisurely dressing of plumage,

A

A HASTY TOILET. 89

with which many birds pass away the dull hours,
is an occupation in which the mocking-bird
never had time to indulge. He was a bird of
affairs; he had too much on his mind for loi-
tering. A few sudden, thorough shakes, a rapid
snatching of the wing and tail feathers through
the beak, or, after a bath, a violent beating the
air with both wings while holding tightly to the
perch with his feet, sufficed for his toilet.
Notwithstanding his apparent carelessness, his
plumage was soft and exquisite in texture, and
when wet the downy breast feathers matted to-
gether and hung in locks, like hair. Through a
common magnifying glass each tiny barbule
was seen to be ringed with gray and silvery
white, so finely that the rings could hardly be
seen.

The most beautiful and peculiar attitude this
bird assumed was when conducting an attack
upon a small object. Seeing one day a steel
pen-point black with ink, he stood before it at a
respectful distance, and raised both wings over
his back till they almost touched each other,
holding the tail on one side. In two or three
seconds he lowered the wings a moment, then
raised them again, while his tail leaned the other
side. After half a dozen such feints he deliv-
ered a gentle peck, and instantly hopped back
out of the way. Seeing that it did not move, he

A AA A RE IE yA IE ET eI A A I tt ti a et i ERE in A gs

90 ATTACKING A PARROT.

took it in his bill and flew to the floor, where
he soon satisfied himself that it was not a new
variety of beetle. This was always his method
with any new object of small size.

Not only did this doughty warrior vanquish
the ordinary birds about him, but when a gray
African parrot made his appearance in the room
(on a short visit) he boldly attacked him, in
spite of his size and strength. The parrot hada
temporary perch before the window, and on the
cage nearest to him the mocking-bird took his
place, and after posturing and _ threatening,
stooped to a crouching position, and then darted
past him, trying to hit him as he went. The
first time this occurred the parrot whirled on
his perch and cried “ Whoo!” and after that
greeted every charge with a very good imitation
of a policeman’s rattle, probably as the loudest
and most terrifying noise he could make. So
determined was the belligerent fellow to subdue
or annihilate the larger bird, and so reckless
were his attacks, that I had to keep him a pris-
oner during the few days the parrot was in the
room, for hospitality must not be violated. It
is interesting to note that so great was his va-
riety of resource that he had a distinctly differ-
ent method of warfare in each of the six cases
mentioned.

A dignified composure was so natural to my

SUBMISSIVE TO THE INEVITABLE. 91

bird that he was never startled out of it, not
even when suddenly enveloped in a shawl, a
proceeding that greatly alarms birds of less self-
possession. It was necessary on one occasion
to catch him to return him to his cage, where he
might be protected from the cold of the night.
All the usual ways were tried without success,
so lightly did he slip away, so gracefully and
calmly did he flutter around the room, not in the
least disturbed or confused by the darkness, and
quite willing to play hide-and-seek all night.
No other way availing, the last resource was
tried — throwing a shawl over him as he stood
crouched on the top of the cage, ready for in-
stant flight. Nota flutter nor a cry arose, and
it seemed that he must have escaped; but on
looking through the cage from below, he was
seen flattened against the wires, but perfectly
quiet, submissive to the inevitable, like any
other philosopher. He was gathered up in the
folds and carefully uncovered before his own
door, when he simply hopped to a perch and
coolly returned the gaze of his captors, not a
feather out of place, not in the smallest degree
disconcerted.
Amusements were not lacking in this inter-
esting life aside from the pleasures of worrying
and teasing, which plainly. were entertainments
for him. He indulged in other performances

92 MAD FROLICS.

which distinctly were play. Especially was this
true of the habit he imitated from the Mexi-
can, — tramping across two cages heavily, with
as much noise as possible, and then with an ex-
travagant jump landing on another cage, where
he was received with a scolding, which appar-
ently pleased him as much as any part of it.
A specially quick flying-run rattled a paper
fastened against the wall, which delighted him
greatly ; and when the cages were covered with
paper, to put an end to the proceeding which
annoyed the residents, he regarded it as a par-
ticular attention, and enjoyed it more than ever,
doubtless because it enabled him to make a
louder noise. Often he diverted himself by a
mad frolic in his cage; from place to place he
went half flying, and scarcely touching anything ;
back and forth, with great flutter of wings and
great noise; up and down, under and over and
around his perches, in the same wild way, so
that it seemed as if he must beat his brains out.
Then suddenly, when most riotous, he alighted
like a feather, the image of serenity and repose.
Sometimes he was seized with this sort of fury
of play when out of his cage, and then he flung
himself about the room in the same frantic
manner, scarcely touching a perch, diving under
a table, between the rounds of a chair, over a
gas-fixture, behind and through any openings he

NOT MALICE BUT MISCHIEF. 93

could find. Should some bird in the room dis-
approve of this behavior, and scold, as the finch
was quite apt to do, the mocking-bird instantly
alighted beside him, humped his back till he
looked deformed, sidled two or three steps to-
wards him, stopped, and stared at his critic ; then
two or three steps more, stopping again, ne in
every way acting more like a mischievous mon-
ster than a bind. till the astonished finch was
reduced to silence, and as meek as poor Mrs.
Quilp before the antics of her malicious little
spouse.

In all these actions, even in his contests with
his room-mates, no anger ever appeared on the
part of the mocking-bird; everything seemed
done to amuse himself and pass away the weary
hours, rather than from desire to hurt his neigh-
bors. In fact, he never did positively touch a
bird, to my knowledge, though he always acted
as though he intended to annihilate them. He
could hardly be called malicious; rather (shall
we say ?) mischievous, and like Ariel “a tricksy
spirit.”

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Never was sweeter music —
Sunshine turned into song.

To set us dreaming of summer, .
When the days and the dreams are long.

Winged lute that we call a bluebird,
You blend in a silver strain

The sound of the laughing waters, ae
The patter of spring’s sweet rain, .

The voice of the wind, the sunshine,
And fragrance of blossoming things.

Ah! you are a poem of April, ;
That God endowed with wings. _ —

Esen. E. REXFORD.

=

V.
THE “WISE BLUEBIRD.”
—o—

“A wise bluebird
Puts in his little heavenly word.”

THE characteristic air and expression of the
bluebird, and his enchanting little warble, could
not be better described in a page of writing than
the poet has here done in a couplet.

Who has not seen him in his favorite resting-
place, the lowest branch of an apple-tree, stand-
ing up very straight, crown feathers erected,
honest little countenance squarely facing one,
motionless and silent, looking the embodiment
of wisdom !

A pair of bluebirds lived in my house for
nearly a year, and the calm, imposing manner
of the male I have never seen disturbed. In
the presence of birds much larger than himself
he never lost his equanimity, paid not the
slightest attention to any one, went about his
daily duties and pleasures exactly as though
there were not another bird, except his mate,

98 PROTECTING HER SPOUSE.

in the room. Quite otherwise was his little
spouse: quick, nervous, easily frightened, yet
assuming the responsibility of everything, even
her lord’s comiort and safety. Her very atti-
tude was different ; she held her body horizon-

tal, never perpendicular, as he did; and she -

was more lively in movement. She was a
brave little soul, too. Even when greatly
annoyed by a larger bird, she never failed to
stand upon the defensive, open her mouth, and
sometimes remonstrate in low, gentle talk.
Nor did she — after she felt at home — allow a
stranger to enter her door. She boldly faced
the largest bird in the room, and always forced
him to retire, while her mate stood calm and cool
and “ wise,” on the upper perch. More than
this, she seemed to feel it part of her duty to
defend and protect his lordship, as though he
were too fragile to come into contact with the
rough side of life. Nothing could be droller
than to see her stand guard while he bathed in
the common dish on the table, and fly furiously
at the grosbeak, or any bird coming too near her
precious idol, who meanwhile placidly pro-
ceeded with his bath in the most matter-of-fact
manner, as though expecting to be protected.
I have seen similar conduct in a wild pair: the
female defending her nestlings against some
fancied danger, scolding, flying around the

AN IMPRUDENT BABY. 99

intruder, and taking the whole care upon her-
self; while her spouse occupied the topmost
twig of the tree on which his family was in
trouble, uttering at short intervals his musical
ery of distress, one rich, loud note.

I did, however, on one occasion see a male
bluebird excited in the defense of his young.
It was in North Carolina, where a nestling
chanced to alight on the favorite resting-place
of a mocking-bird, and the latter a moment
afterward came to his usual perch not a foot
from the wild-eyed youngster. Then arose a
great outcry from both bluebirds, and one after
the other swooped down at that mocking-bird,
coming so near I thought they must hit him.
Again and again they returned to the charge
with loud cries, while the mocking-bird stood
quiet, crouched as though to dash into the
little one, and jerking wings and tail in a
wicked manner. It lasted but a moment, for
the nestling itself was scared and flew to an-
other branch, upon which the attack came to
an end, and the mother went to the baby, but
the father stood on a perch near the enemy,
and scolded for some time.

Perhaps this individual bluebird had eae”
to assist in the family defense, for they had
other troubles. The nest was in an unsafe

spot, the hollow dead limb of a tall pine-tree,

100 A BLUEBIRD TRAGEDY.

about seventy feet above the ground. The
opening was in the lower side of the sloping
branch, making it very easy for a nestling to
fall out, and that is what I think happened the
day before the little scene above described.
Hearing cries of distress from the pine
grove, I hastened down to see if I could be of
any assistance. Both bluebirds were on a low
tree, about a foot apart, uttering constantly
the mournful notes I had heard. Evidently a
tragedy of some sort had occurred, and I thought
at once of a falling little one. I looked carefully
around the tree while the parents came down
near me, much disturbed. I found nothing, but
a gale was blowing and a little bird might
easily have been driven far away. It was a
serious matter plainly, for the cries went on
without intermission the rest of the day.
During that time I saw a curious and inter-
esting attempt at consolation on the part of the
male. He flew away, and returned in a few
moments with something in his beak. Alight-
ing near his mate, he began a low, tender
twitter, at the same time offering the morsel to
her. She moved a few inches away; he fol-
lowed, still coaxing. She flew to another
branch, refusing to look at it. He followed,
still asking her to accept it. At last she flew
away, and he seemed astounded, stood as if he

. snl

ne eee

A TENDER PAIR. 101

did not know what to do next, hesitated sev-
eral minutes, when a bright thought seemed to
strike him, and he carried it to the nest.

The pair in my room were a most affectionate
and gentle couple; no disputes, not even the
smallest difference, arose between them. If
one wished to bathe while the other was using
the bath-tub, he stood on the edge till his turn
eame. In the same way one usually waited for
the other to finish a lunch before going down
himself, though on rare occasions they descended
together for a social meal. If she were alarmed,
and went to the floor, as at first sometimes hap-
pened, he at once appeared in the door, looking
anxiously after her, and calling tenderly. If
she did not return, he flew down himself, ran
about till he fonnd her, and, after talking in a
low tone for some time, started for home, when
she followed him, showing that she was reas-
sured. They always sat on the same perch,
and on cool days as near each other as possible,
first one and then the other “ hitching” a little
nearer. After bathing they sunned themselves
together, even when in the cage, where the sun-
shine came only into one corner, and they
crowded so closely that there was not room to
spread out. Even that discomfort never elicited
a harsh word, though he enjoyed spreading
himself very completely, bending his legs, rest-

102 | SHE NIPPED HIS TOES.

ing his breast on the floor, and opening his
wings to their full extent.

This bird’s anxiety when his mate was out
of his sight did not, however, compare with her
unrest in his absence, for her affection seemed
to be of the motherly or protecting sort. Be-
fore they became familiar with the room, and
learned that, though unseen, the partner was
not lost, the moment he disappeared from view
she began running around the cage excitedly,
looking everywhere, and calling loudly. At first
he answered, but, deciding to try his wings, he
swept around the room, came —as some birds
do — against the window, and fell to the floor,
when instantly both were perfectly silent. She
looked out apprehensively, and as soon as he
recovered breath he flew to the top of their own
cage. Then her solicitude turned to annoyance ;
she went to the top perch, and gently nipped his
toes (which she never did to strangers) as a
slight reproof. He became accustomed to going
out and in sooner than his mate, for she was shy
and inclined to stay at home, and she suffered
much anxiety ; before long she too grew accus-
tomed to freedom, and expressed no further
fears when he was out.

Making arrangements for the night was an
interesting event in bluebird life. They always
selected the highest perch in the darkest end

— —— _

GOING TO BED. 1038

of the cage, and placed themselves so close
together that they looked like a wide ball, or
two balls that had been almost pressed into one
when in a very soft state. In the morning the
feathers on the side next the mate were crushed
flat, requiring much shaking and dressing to
give them their ordinary appearance. What
was curious, the female took the outside, no
doubt with the motherly motive of taking care
of him. To see them settle themselves was
pleasing. Being more quiet and less nervous
than his spouse, the singer generally retired
first, some time before she was ready, and com-
posed himself in a moment in his corner, for
they were never restless at evening; she fol-
lowed when she chose. Occasionally, however,
she went first, taking her place about as far as
usual from the wires, and leaving space for
him. But if he went to his place, there was
not room to turn around, facing the middle of
the cage, as was their custom; and he seemed
to appreciate the difficulty, for he hopped up
on the outside, or the wrong side of her. In-
stantly she jumped to a lower perch, when he
sidled up to his regular place, and she at once
returned and took her usual position beside
him. One night something startled them, and
both flew wildly around the cage. I produced

a light to show them the perches, so they might

104 A QUEER LITTLE TALK.

quiet themselves again. The male readily did
so, but she remained on the lower perch. I
went close to the wires and began to speak
soothingly, to calm her, and induce her to
resume her place, when, to my surprise, she
began to reply to me, every time I spoke, stand-
ing less than a foot from me. She stared me
full in the face, not at all disturbed, and
answered every word I said with her musical
call, in a low tone, as if to tell me the story of
the fright. We kept up the queer little chat
for several minutes, and she did not return to
his side that night.

One advantage of studying two birds of a
kind at the same time is to observe the talk
between them, which has great interest for me.
This pair were exceedingly talkative at first,
uttering not only the usual musical three-syl-
lable warble or call, which Lanier aptly calls
the “ heavenly word,” but often soft twittering
prattle, of varying inflection and irregular
length, which was certainly the most interest-
ing bird-talk I ever heard. When they could
not see me they indulged in it more freely,
with changing tones at different times, and
after they became accustomed to the room and
its inhabitants it was neither so frequent nor so
earnest. Often at night, when one — perhaps
in a dream — fell off the perch, I heard much

BIRD TALK. 105

low, tender talk, almost in a whisper, before all
was quiet again; and when another bird flew
wildly around the room, there was always a
remark or two in an interested tone. The
male did most of the talking, carrying on, often
for a long time, a constant flow of what sounded
marvelously like comments and criticisms,
while his mate replied occasionally with the
usual call. Certain notes plainly had a specific
meaning, even to the others in the room. One
in particular was peculiar and low, but upon
its utterance every bird became instantly silent
and looked at the cage, while the bluebirds
themselves were so absorbed, gazing apparently
into blank space, that I could easily put my
hands on them before they observed me. For
several minutes this low note would be repeated,
and all the birds stare at nothing, till I began
to feel almost uncomfortable, as I have done at
similar staring at nothing on the part of ani-
mals. One can hardly resist the feeling that
these creatures can see something invisible to
our eyes. On one occasion, when the male ut-
tered this note, the female was just about to
eat ; she stood as if petrified, with head half-
way down to the food, for two or three min-
utes.

What I have called talk was a very low
twitter in a conversational tone, on one note,

106 DISAGREEMENT IN THE FAMILY.

not at all in a singing tone, like the usual
warble or call. I have also heard it from wild
bluebirds, when I could get near enough. From
the first, as said above, the male did most of
the talking, and the habit grew upon him, till
he became a regular babbler, standing on the
top perch, and keeping it up persistently all
day long. I think it arose from the fact that
the greater number of birds in the room were
thrushes, who sang very softly, without open-
ing the mouth. With this gentle ripple of
song the bluebird’s voice harmonized perfectly,
and he almost entirely discontinued his lovely
song, while indulging himself in talk by the
hour. Strange to say, I soon noticed that his
mate did not approve of it, and would not
stand on the perch beside him while he con-
tinued it. At first she turned sharply towards
him, and he showed that he understood her
wishes by ceasing for a while; but as the habit
grew, and he was not so easily silenced, she
more and more deserted his side, and after two
or three weeks I heard occasionally a gentle re-
monstrance from her. I do not believe a really
harsh tone can come from a bluebird throat.
One day they were taking their usual midday
nap on the same perch, when a thrush across
the window began his low song. That started
the bluebird, and he added his chatter, which

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—-

DEMANDING MEALWORMS. 107

awakened his mate. She endured it for about
five seconds, and then she suddenly stretched
the wing nearest him so far that he was obliged
to move away, when she instantly hopped down
herself.

The two bluebirds differed in intelligence.
The female was quicker to take an idea, but
the male sooner conquered his fear. The first
time I offered mealworms to them she was so
lively as to secure more than her share; but
he learned in a day or two that worms were to
be had outside, especially on my desk, when he
at once flew over to me and demanded them, in
the funniest little defiant way, looking at me
most significantly, and wiping his bill ostenta-
tiously, then jerking himself with great show
of impatience. Words could not be plainer.
Neither of them had difficulty in telling me
their food-dish was empty; they stood on the
edge and looked at me, then scraped the bill
several times, making much noise about it, then
looked at me again. I knewin a moment, the
first time, what they wanted. When the male
found out that another bird alighted on a stick
I held out to him, and was carried off upon it,
he seemed to be seized with curiosity, and the
next time I offered it he jumped upon it be-
side the other, and allowed himself to be lifted
to the desk. At one time, in flying around, he

108 A SAUCY TRICK.

caught his feet in the coarse net curtains I hung
before the windows to keep strange birds from
trying to fly out. I went at once to him and
took him off. He scolded, fluttered, and
pecked, and, when I had released him, flew
directly against another curtain and caught
again. I went over to him, and this time he
understood that I was helping him; he neither
struggled nor pecked, and flew quietly when I
set him free.

The bluebird never showed any curiosity
about the room or the world outside the win-
dows, but sat on his door perch for hours, with
a sharp eye to the worm supply. ‘The appear-
ance of the cup that held them was a signal for
him to come down and beg for them, but his
little mate never dared trust herself on the
desk, though when I threw a worm on the floor
she invariably secured it. So fond was she of
this delicacy that she once played a saucy trick
upon a scarlet tanager. Having received a
worm, he went into the first open door he saw,
— which happened to be the bluebird’s, — to
find a place to manipulate the morsel, which he
never swallowed whole. Madam stood on the
perch just above the entrance, and as he came
in she leaned over and snatched it out of his
mouth, swallowed it, wiped her bill, and turned
to him, ready for another. His stare of blank

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FANNING HERSELF DRY. 109

amazement was amusing to see, but he quickly
made up his mind that it was not a safe place
to eat, and when I gave him another he went
to the roof of the same cage. She instantly
mounted the top perch, put up her bill and
seized the worm; but he held on, dragged it
away, and then retired to his own cage with it.
She positively could not resist this temptation,
and even from ber own cherished spouse she
would sometimes snatch the desired tidbit.

The bluebirds’ method of bathing differed
from any I have noticed. They put the head
under water, and held it there, while spattering
vigorously with wings and tail. On leaving the
bath the female fanned herself dry, holding
tightly to the perch and beating her wings with
violence, while dancing back and forth the
whole length of the perch, in a bewitching man-
ner. Her mate fanned himself also, adding a
very pretty lateral shake of the wings, and rais-
ing the feathers on the crown and throat till he
looked twice as big as usual. But he was very
fond of sunning himself dry, in the attitude al-
ready spoken of. That position, by the way,
was a not unusual one with him; he often
hopped the length of three feet before a blind
which stood against the wall, his legs bent,
head nearly touching the floor, and tail thrust
almost straight up. A droll figure he made.

110 BLUEBIRD COURTSHIP.

After hopping to the end of the blind, he would
dash around behind it, as if he expected or
hoped to find something.

After moulting, the birds feathered out beau-
tifully, and their spirits rose in proportion.
They delighted in flight, making long, sweep-
ing circles around the room, again and again,
without stopping. A few weeks later, as spring
approached, they grew somewhat belligerent
towards the other inhabitants of the place;
driving every bird away from their cage, even
following them to their chosen resting-places,
insisting on their right to every perch in the
room. ‘Then, too, began signs of courtship be-
tween the lovely pair. The first thing I noticed
was at worm-feeding time. One day I had
given each of them their portion. The female
swallowed hers instantly, and I turned to an-
other cage, when I heard a low, coaxing cry
many times repeated. I looked around. The
male stood on the upper perch, still holding his
worm, which he usually dispatched as quickly
as his mate did hers; and she was on a lower
perch, looking up at him, mouth open, wings
fluttering, asking for it. While I looked, he
hopped down beside her, she opened her mouth
wide, and he fed her as if she were a nestling.
He was more amiable than a wild bluebird I
once saw, who had brought up a long earth-

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REFUSED TO SHARE. 111

worm, and was beating it on the top of a post
preparatory to swallowing it, when his little
spouse — who was sitting at the time — came ©
to the fence rail below him, and asked in the
same way for a bit. So far from sharing it with
her, this greedy bird simply took a fresh hold
of his prize, flew to a tree, and gobbled it down
with difficulty himself. Not so my generous
captive. The next day he complied with her
request again, and after that it was he who did
the tender coaxing, begging her to accept the
slight offering of his love. Soon, too, she grew
coquettish in manner, often turned a cold shoul-
der to him, opened her mouth at him, and
scolded in the sweetest and softest voice; and
one night, after they had settled on their perch,
I heard gentle talk, and saw a little peck or
two on her part. He did the talking, and she
delivered the playful peck or push as reply.
Now, too, in his desire to manifest his affection,
he could not always wait for worms, but picked
dainty bits from the food-dish, and tendered
them in the same pretty way. She always ac-
cepted, though often she went at once to the
food-dish and ate for herself; for with all this
sentiment and love-making her appetite did not
fail. Once she was outside and he inside the
cage, when he began to call and offer her some-
thing out of his mouth. She did not wish to

112 ATTACKED BY TRAMPS.

go in, so she flew to a perch that ran through
the cage, and stood close to the wires, while he

went to the same perch inside, and fed her

through the wires.

About this time, too, the bluebird talk nearly
ceased, and instead of it the lovely song of three
notes was heard all day, and a little change they
made in it—throwing in a “ grace note”’ be-
tween the second and third — greatly added to
its charm. Now, too, spring had really come,
and I waited only for warm days to let thém go
and set up their homestead in freedom. The first
mild day in May the window was opened for
them. The female flew first to a tree in front
of the house, where she was greeted in the rud-
est manner by the bird-tramps which infest our
streets, — the house-sparrows. ‘They began to
assemble around her, no doubt prepared for at-
tack, when she gave a loud cry of distress, and
out flew her valiant knight to her aid. After a
moment’s pause by her side, they both flew, and
we saw the gentle pair no more. |

This true chronicle began with a quotation
from Lanier; it shall end with one from Har-
riet Prescott Spofford : —

“ A bit of heaven itself, he flew,
When earth seemed heaven with bees and bloom,
South wind, and sunshine, and perfume;
And morning were not morn without him.
Winging, springing, always flinging,
Flinging music all about him.”

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THE GOLDEN-WING.

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ONE of the special objects of my search dur-
ing a certain June among the hills of northern
New York was a nest of the golden-winged
woodpecker; not that it is rare or hard to find,
but because I had never seen one and had read
attractive stories of the bird’s domestic rela-
tions, the large number of young in the nest,
and his devotion and pride. Moreover, I had
become greatly interested in the whole family,
through my attachment to an individual mem-
ber of it in my own house.

I soon discovered that the orchard at the
back of the house was visited every day by a
pair of the birds I was seeking. One was seen
running up and down a trunk of a large poplar-
tree, and the next morning two alighted on a
dead branch at the top of an apple-tree, perch-
ing like other birds on twigs, which seemed too
light to bear their weight. But they were ap-
parently satisfied with them; for they stayed

116 SEARCHING THE WOODS.

some time, pluming themselves and evidently
looking with interest and astonishment at human
intruders into what had no doubt been a favorite
haunt of their own. I watched them for sey-
eral minutes, till a sudden noise startled the
shy creatures and they were off in an instant.

After that I saw them often at the bottom
of the orchard. They always flew over the
place with rather a heavy business-like flight,
alighted on a low branch of the farthest apple-
tree, and in a moment dropped to the ground
where the long grass hid them. There they
remained five minutes or more before returning
to the tree. Unfortunately it was a little far-
ther than I could readily see with my glass, and
the most cautious approach alarmed them. I
heard them call nearly every day in loud,
strong voice, * Pe-auk! pe-auk!”’

Being thus baffled in my plan of following
them home, I resolved upon a regular search in
the small piece of woods where they always
disappeared, and every morning I spent two or
three hours in that lovely spot looking for any
birds, but especially for the Golden-wing. In
all my search, however, I found but one nest,
which may have been his, where apparently a
tragedy had occurred; for from the edge of the
opening the bark was torn off down the trunk,
and in two or three places holes were picked

a

GETTING ACQUAINTED. 117

as though to reach the nest which had been
within.

Whatever the drama enacted in that mys- |
terious home, I was too late to see, and I have
not been able as yet to make close acquaintance
with the free Golden-wing.

The bird that had so interested me in his
whole family I found in a bird store in New
York in the month of November. He was a
most disconsolate-looking object, and so pain-
fully wild I could scarcely bear to look at him
— poor, shy, frightened soul, set up in a cage to
be stared at. I rescued him at once with the
intention of giving him a more retired home,
and freedom the moment spring opened. The
change did not at first reassure him, and he
was so frantic that his cage was covered to
shut out the sights till he was accustomed to
the sounds of a household. Gradually, an
inch or two at a time, the cover that hid the
world from him was reduced, till at the end of
three weeks he could endure the removal of the
last corner without going absolutely mad.

On the first day an opening a few inches
wide was left in his screen, so that he might
look out if he chose, and I took my seat as far
as possible from him, with my back to him, and
a hand-glass so arranged that I could see him.
As soon as the room was quiet he went to the

118 PEEPING AT ME.

opening and cautiously thrust his long bill and
his head as far as the eye beyond the edge so
that he could see me. I kept perfectly still,
while he watched me several minutes with evi-
dent interest, and I was glad to see that it was
simply fright and not idiocy that caused his
panics.

Many emotions of the bird were most com-
ically expressed by hammering. In embarrass-
ment or alarm, when not so great as to drive
him wild, he resorted to that diversion, and the
more disturbed, the louder and faster his
blows. If in utter despair, as when I set his
house in order for the day, he dropped to the
floor on the farthest side, put his head in the
corner, and pounded the tray with great vio-
lence. Every wire in the cage in turn he tested
with taps of his beak, thus amusing himself
hours at a time, sitting, as was his custom,
crouched upon the perch or on the floor. In
this way, too, he tried the quality of the plas-
tered wall behind his cage, and was evidently
pleased to find it yielding, for he bored many
holes and tore off much paper, before he was
discovered and provided with a background of
wood to exercise upon.

The unhappy bird had a serious time learn-
ing to eat mocking-bird food with his long,
curved beak; he never became very expert at it,

ei.

TURNED HIS BACK. 119

but was as awkward as a child learning to feed
itself.. He first thrust it like a dagger its whole
length into his dish, took out a mouthful, then
turned his head sidewise, shook it and snapped
his bill one side and the other, making a noise
as if choking. When this performance was
over, he scraped his beak against the wires and
picked off the fragments daintily with the tip.
When he had eaten he left a straight, smooth
hole in the food, like a stab, two inches deep
and perhaps half an inch in diameter. In
drinking he made the same movements, filling
his mouth, throwing back his head, and swallow-
ing with great efforts.

All of the Golden-wing’s attitudes were pe-
culiar; as, for instance, he never liked to face
one, but always turned his back upon spectators
and looked at them over his shoulder. In
sleeping he changed his position often, and was
as restless as a nervous old man. Sometimes
he slept on the perch, puffed out into a ball like
other birds, head buried in his feathers, tail
broad-spread and curled under the perch, as
though it needed something to rest against. If
he began his night’s rest (or unrest) in this
position, in a few hours he would drop -heavily
to the floor, scramble about a little, and then
climb to one of the supports that kept the wires
in place, ten inches from the bottom of the

120 A SOUND SLEEPER.

cage. There he settled himself comfortably,
head buried again, tail pressed against the wires,
and looking more like a spot on the wall than
a bird.

He often took naps in the daytime on the
floor with his head in the corner, like a bad boy
in punishment, his head drawn down into his
shoulders and his bill thrust up into the air at
an angle of forty-five degrees. If this tired

him, he simply turned his bill down at about

the same angle, and tried it that way awhile.

He was an exceedingly early bird, always
settled to sleep long before any other in the
room, and he slept very soundly, being not
easily wakened and breathing in long, steady
respirations like a person in sleep. Indeed he
startled me very much the first time I noticed
him. ‘The breathing was regular and strong,
equal in duration to my own as [I listened, and
I was sure some one was in the room. [I has-
tened to light the gas to look for the burglar,
and it was not until I had made thorough
search that I discovered who was the guilty
one. He dreamed also, if one may judge by
the sounds that came from his cage at night,
complaining, whining, almost barking like the
“yaps” of a young puppy, and many sorts of
indescribable noises. |

The Golden-wing was extremely fond of

— = ee, oe | aS =

HANGING HIMSELF OP. 121

hanging against the side of his cage on the
support spoken of above. Not only did he
sleep in that position, but dress his plumage,
turning his head back over his body and sides,
and even arranging the feathers of his breast,
each one by itself, with scrupulous care. Like
many others this bird objected to having his
cage used as a perch by his neighbors. He
expressed his sentiments by quick jerks, first of
the shoulders and then of the whole body, and
if the intruder did not take the hint, he opened
his enormous bill and took hold of a stray toe,
which usually drove away the most imperti-
nent.

The door of the cage was opened to my cap-
tive as soon as he became quiet and happy
within it. After his first surprise and dismay
at finding himself in the big world again, he
enjoyed it very much. Being unable to fly
through the loss of some wing feathers, his cage
was placed on the floor, and he ran in and out
at pleasure. He was more than usually intelli-
gent about it, too; for although the door was
small, and he had to lower his head to pass
through, he was never at a loss for an instant.

One thing that shows a bird’s characteristics
and that I have never seen any two do in ex-
actly the same way, is to explore a room when

first released from a cage. This bird, like his

122 A DROLL PATTER. OF FEET.

predecessors, had his own peculiar notion,
which was to go behind everything. He
squeezed himself between a trunk, or a heavy
piece of furniture, and the wall, where it did
not seem possible that one of his size could
pass, and showed so great an inclination to go
through a hole in the open-work fire-board that
I hastily covered it up. After a while he tested
the matting and carefully investigated, by light
taps of his bill, each separate nail. His step
was heavy, and he did not hop, but ran around
with a droll little patter of the feet, like a
child’s footsteps.

Having exhausted the novelty of the floor, he
turned his eyes upward, perhaps noticing that
the other birds were higher in the room, where
they had taken refuge when he made his sudden
and somewhat alarming appearance among
them. He did not try to fly, but he was not
without resources; he could jump, and no one
could outdo him in climbing, or in holding on.
After a moment’s apparent consideration of the
means at his command, he ran to the corner
and mounted a trunk by springing up halfway,
holding on a moment in some mysterious man-

ner, and then by a second jump landing on top.

From that point it was easy to reach the bird’s
table, and there was a ladder placed for the ben-
efit of another that could not fly. This ladder

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USING THE LADDER. 123

he at once pounced upon, and used as if he had
practiced on one all his life.

I shut the cage-door at the upper end to mae
him out of his neighbor’s house, while the
owner, an American wood-thrush, stood upon
the roof, looking ruefully at this appropriation
of his private property. Upon reaching the
closed door the traveler jumped across to an-
other cage nearly a foot away. This was a
small affair occupied by an English goldfinch,
who was then at home and not pleased by the
eall, as he at once made known. Golden-wing,
however, perhaps with the idea of returning
past insults from the saucy little finch, jerked
himself all around the cage, inserting his long
bill as though trying to reach something inside.

Having wearied of annoying the enemy, he
sprang back to the ladder, descended by the
table and trunk to the floor as he had gone up,
without a moment’s hesitation as to the way,
which proved him to possess unusual intelli-
gence. He did not take the trouble to climb
down, but put his two feet together and jumped
heavily like a child, a very odd movement for
a bird. It was his constant habit in the cage
to jump from the perch to the floor, and from
one that was two inches above the tray he often
stepped down backwards, which I never before
saw a bird do.

124 ASKING TO HAVE THE DOOR OPENED.

When after three hours of exploration he
returned to his home, the door was closed and
the cage hung up. He was satisfied with his
first outing, and refreshed himself with a nap
at once. But the first thing the next morning
he came down to his door and pecked the wires,
looking over at me most intelligently, plainly
asking to have it opened. He never mistook
the position of the door, and if knocking had
not the desired effect, he took hold of a wire
and shook and rattled it till he was attended to.

It was interesting to see how familiar he sud-
denly became, when no effort had been made
to induce him to be so. I never had so much
trouble to win the confidence of a bird, but
when won, the surrender was complete. He
came up to me freely and allowed me to catch
him in my hand without resistance, which is
veryuncommon. (Perhaps I ought to say that
I do not try to tame my birds.) He displayed
a child-like, confiding disposition, both in his
unreasoning terror at first, and his unquestion-
ing faith at last.

- These investigations were conducted without
a sound, for the bird was entirely silent while
awake. But there came a day when he made
a curious exhibition of his ability. It was the
ninth of February, and the goldfinch was call-
ing, as he often did. The woodpecker sat on

i nd ieee

Pe - «

Sha i

4

A QUEER LITTLE SONG. 125

his perch with wings held tightly against his
sides, “humped ” up as though he were high-
shouldered. The plumage of his breast was
puffed out so broadly that it came over the
wings, and in a front view completely hid them,
while the feathers of his shoulders were erected
till he resembled a lady with a fur shoulder
cape. Withal, his head was drawn down to
his body, and his beak pointed upward at an
angle of forty-five degrees. In this peculiar
and absurd position he began a strange little
song, ludicrously weak and low for a bird of
his size. The tones were delivered in a sharp
staccato style, like “ picking” the strings of a
violin very softly, several notes uttered with
queer sidewise jerks of the head, and eyes ap-
parently fixed on the gold-finch. After a
phrase or two he scraped his bill violently and
then began again.

This performance he varied by bowing his
head many times, swaying his whole body from
side to side, flirting his tail and shaking his
wings. It was an extraordinary display, but
whether his manner of making himself agree-
able, or of expressing contempt, I Gould only
guess. The goldfinch looked on with interest,
though I think he understood it no better than
I did; he seemed surprised, but rather pleased,
for he repeated his calls, and the Golden-wing
kept up the strange exhibition for some time.

126 A GOLDEN-WING BABY.

I became greatly attached to my beautiful
bird, which appeared, in the presence of his

wise and wary room-mates, cat-birds and’

thrushes, like a big, clumsy, but affectionate
baby. It was solely on his account and prin-
cipally, I must confess, to try and surprise a
wild bird at the above described entertainment
so as to determine its character, that I wished
to make acquaintance with its free relations,
study their ways when at liberty in their own
haunts, and have a glimpse if possible of the
Golden-wing babies.

A year later I had the opportunity I so much
desired of making acquaintance with the young
of this family. I was sitting one morning on
the edge of a deep ravine filled with trees,
deeply engaged in the study of another bird,
when suddenly a stranger came with an awk-
ward flop against the trunk of a tree not ten
feet from me. Isaw in an instant that it was
the infant I had looked for so long. He was
exactly like the parents, with a somewhat
shorter tail. I should hardly have suspected
his youthfulness but for his clumsy movements,
and the fact that he did not at once take flight,
which a Golden-wing more experienced in the
ways of human-kind would have done instantly.
He seemed somewhat exhausted by his flight,
and clung to the trunk, with soft dark eyes
fixed upon me, ready to move if I did. |

YO" 2S EG Oe Og wp ete We ees, yp a -* s~

TAKING A NAP. 127

I did not ; I sat motionless for half an hour
and watched him. When somewhat rested he
dodged around the other side of the trunk, and
peeped at me through a fork in the branches.
Then he scrambled upon a small branch, where
he perched crosswise. But he had trouble to
keep his balance in that position, so he climbed
about till he found a limb fully two inches in
diameter, on which he could rest in the favorite
flicker attitude — lengthwise. Then with his
head outward to the world at large, and his
tail turned indifferently toward me, — whom he
doubtless regarded as a permanent and lifeless
feature of the landscape, —he settled himself,
crouched flat against the bark, for a comfortable
nap.

All this time I had been conscious of low
Golden-wing talk about me ; the familiar “ wick-
up! wick-up!” almost in a whisper, a softened
* pe-auk!” from the ravine, and the more dis-
tant “laugh,” so called. ‘The infant on the
tree heard too. He moved his head, listened
and looked, but whether or not they were words
of caution and advice from the wiser ones of
his race, he refused to be frightened and did not
move till I rose to leave him, when, greatly
startled, he took flight across the ravine.

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A STORMY WOOING.

—_oe——

Ir, as Ruskin says, “the bird is little more
than a drift of the air, brought into form by
plumes,” the particular bit shaped into the
form we call the orchard oriole must be a breath
from a Western tornado, for a more hot-headed,
blustering individual would be hard to find;
and when this embodied hurricane, this ** drift”
of an all-destroying tempest, goes a-wooing,
strange indeed are the ways he takes to win
his mate, and stranger still the fact that he does
win her in spite of his violence.

In a certain neighborhood, where I spent
some time in the nesting season, studying a
bird of vastly different character, orchard ori-
oles were numerous, and in their usual fashion
made their presence known by persistent sing-
ing around the house. For it must be admitted,
whatever their defects of temper or manners,
that they are most cheerful in song, the female no
less than the male. First of the early morning
bird chorus comes their song, loud, rich, and oft-

132 NOT TO BE OVERLOOKED.

repeated, though marred in the case of the male
by the constant interpolation of harsh, scolding
notes. Anywhere, everywhere, all day, in pour-
ing rain, in high wind that silences nearly every
bird voice, the orioles sing. One could not
overlook them if he wished, so noisy, so restless,
and so musical. Nor do they care to be un-
seen; they make no attempt at concealment.
No oriole ever steals into a neighborhood in the
quiet way of the cat-bird, silently taking an ob-
servation of its inhabitants before making him-
self obvious; on the contrary, all his deeds are
before the public, even his family quarrels. He
comes to a tree with a bustle, talking, scolding,
making himself and his affairs the most con-
spicuous things in the neighborhood.

Many times he is most annoying. When
following some shy bird to its nest, or moving
down toward the grove where are the brooklet
and the birds’ bathing-place, no matter how
quietly one may approach, footsteps deadened
by thick sand and no rustling garments to be-
tray, the orchard oriole is sure to know it. He
is not the only bird to see a stranger, of course ;
the brown thrush is as quick as he, but he
silently drops to the ground, if not already
there, and disappears without a sound ; the car-
dinal grosbeak slips down from his perch on the
farther side and takes wing near the ground;

LL EEO EE LEIE DED Ln: AE

HE SHOUTS THE NEWS. 1338

‘the cat-bird, in the center of a thick shrub,
noiseless as a shadow, flutters across the path
and is gone; others do the same. The orchard
oriole alone shouts the news to all whom it may
concern in his loudest “chack! chack!” put-
ting every one on his guard at once, and mak-
ing the copse in a moment as empty as though
no wing ever stirred its leaves.

On first noticing the ways of the birds about
me on the occasion mentioned, I saw that there
was some sort of a disturbance among them ;
scarcely ten minutes passed without a commo-
tion, followed by a chase through the branches
of a tree, one bird pursuing another so hotly
that twigs bent and leaves parted as they passed,
the one in advance often uttering a complaining
ery, and the pursuer, a loud, harsh scold. Some-
thing exciting was evidently going on; some
tragedy or possibly comedy, in this extremely
sensational family. I was at once interested to
see what it might be and how it would end; »
and in fact, before I knew it, I was as much
absorbed in oriole matters as though no other
feathered life was to be seen.

There were in the party two males, one in
his second year, and therefore immature in col-
oring, being olive-yellow on the breast, brown
on wings and tail, with a black mask over eyes
and chin; the other was older, and a model

:
:

134 “WOULD N’T TAKE NO, FOR AN ANSWER.”

of oriole beauty, being bright chestnut on the
lower parts, with velvety black hood coming
down on the breast. With them was one female,
and though far from being friends, the three
were never separated. The trouble seemed to be
that both males were suitors, and notwithstand-
ing the pretty little maid appeared to have a
mind of her own and to prefer the younger of
her wooers, the older plainly refused “ to take
no for an answer,” and was determined to have
his own way, bringing to bear on his courtship
all the persistence of his race. In that particu-
lar quality of never giving up what he has set
his heart on, the oriole cannot be excelled, if
indeed he can be equaled in the bird world;
for a time, and a long time, too, he is a bird of
one idea, and by fair means or foul he will al-
most certainly accomplish his desire, whatever
it may be.

Life never grew dull in the party mentioned ;
they were always talking, singing, or going for
each other in the mad way already described.
Sometimes the chase was between the males,
but oftener the female flew for her life appar-
ently, while the rough wooer followed closely
with great noise and confusion. The affair
ended occasionally with a cry of distress as
though somebody was pecked, but several times
she stood at bay and defied him with mouth

TOO MANY WOOERS. 135

open, feathers bristled up, wings fluttering, and
every way quite ready to defend herself. Like
other blusterers, on the first show of fight he
calmed down, and the matter ended for the time.
Peace lasted from ten to twenty minutes, dur-
ing which they hopped about the tree, or hung
head-downward on the Spanish moss, talking
in low tones, though the male never omitted
delivering a scolding note with every two or
three pleasant ones. Her voice was charming,
in a tender call, a gentle chatter, or a sweet
song, unspoiled by the harsh tones of her part-
ner. She was also a very pretty bird, bright
yellow below, olive-yellow on the back, no
black about the face, and legs and feet blue as
the sky, and she was as graceful as she was
beautiful.

Repose of manner was unknown to the or-
chard orioles. One was scarcely ever seen
sitting or standing still. The song was given
while moying, either flying or hopping about
on the tree. If one did pause while it was ut-
tered, the body jerked, and the head turned
this way and that, as though he really was too
restless to be perfectly quiet for a moment.

The most tempestuous times were when the
younger suitor put himself forward and per-
suaded the fair yellow damsel to show him some
slight preference. The venerable lover was not

136 A WAR DANCE.

slow to resent this, and to fall like a hurricane
upon the pretender, who disappeared like a
dead leaf before the blast, and so quickly that
he could not be followed — at least by anything
less rapid than wings. Once, however, I saw
a curious affair between the two suitors which
was plainly a war-dance. It followed closely
upon one of the usual flurries, conducted with
perhaps louder cries and more vehemence than
common, and began by both birds alighting on
the grass about a foot apart, and so absorbed
in each other as to be utterly oblivious of a
spectator within ten feet of them on the bal-
cony. No tiger out of the jungle could hold
more rage and fury than animated those feath-
ered atoms, bristled up even to the heads,
which looked as if covered with velvet caps.
They paused an instant, then crouched, jerked
their tails, “‘teetered’”’ and posed in several
attitudes, ending each new movement with a
solemn bow, perhaps equivalent to a hand-
shake among larger fighters. What one did
the other exactly copied, and both seemed to
be trying to get one side of the opponent, so as
to secure some advantage. To prevent this,
each kept his face to the foe, and moved as he
moved. ‘Thus they passed down one side, then
back, down the other and return, neither able to
get the slightest superiority of position. It was

eS as ae 2 = "

VULGAR BROILS. 137

extremely grotesque, and was continued several
minutes, while I eagerly watched to see what
would happen next. What did happen was
entirely unexpected, a unique anti-climax, quite
worthy of the undignified character of the bird.
On a sudden, as by one consent, both flew oppo-
site ways; both alighted in low trees about
thirty feet apart, and each one sang a loud joy-
ous song, as of victory !

In this turbulent way life went on for two |
or three weeks; I could not tell how long, for it
was in full progress when I came. ‘There was
always a vulgar broil, often a furious encounter,
stopping just short of coming to blows, and it
seemed really doubtful if the orioles would suc-
ceed in settling their matrimonial affairs before
summer. ‘The third member of the belligerent
party, the demure little object of all this agita-
tion, was meekness and gentleness itself, never
aggressive, but always flying before the furious
onslaught of her would-be spouse. Why then
did she not select her mate and thus end the
trouble, which, according to the books, it must
do?

Turning away from the more conspicuous
males with their endless contests, and watching
her closely, I saw that she was trying her best
to do so. She plainly preferred the younger
and less quarrelsome suitor, and often followed

138 A FEATHERED PAUL PRY.

him off, bringing down upon herself in conse-
quence the wrath of the elder, and instant pur-
suit, which ended in the disappearance of her
chosen hero, and a forced endurance of the
tyrant’s presence, till it appeared that she
would have to “marry him to get rid of him,”
as our plain-spoken grandmothers characterized
a similar situation in human affairs.

When these birds could spare time from their
own absorbing matters, they were very inquisi-
‘tive in the affairs of their neighbors. After
the mocking-bird babies were out, the orioles
often visited them, while the parents were
absent, for no reason that I could discover but
to see what they were like, and how they got
on, for nothing about them was disturbed. If,
however, an oriole was found by one of the old
mocking-birds perched on the edge of the nest,
he was driven away with a piece of mocking-
bird mind on the subject of meddlers. Like-
wise they frequently paid visits to a nuthatch
colony at the top of a tall pine-tree. Whether
more aggressive among these smaller birds, or

not, could not be seen. But the facts were -

that upon an oriole’s disappearing through those
heavy pine branches away above our heads,
there instantly arose a great outcry in the
querulous nuthatch voice, and the intruder re-
turned to the lower world with some precipi-

*
Sot ae eee age 8 eo agi
7 Prt ewe z

Pe Wp Gi aD Sei EE Se ,

THE CRISIS CAME. | 139

tation, while gentle, complaining sounds came
from the invaded territory for some time. So,
too, in different degree the birds showed interest
in me, peering down between the leaves of the
tree in which they spent most of their time,
and making remarks or expressing opinions,
climbing —which they literally did — to the
end of a twig, stretching up tall to look over
the top and stare at me, or when flying slowly
past, hovering a moment just in front of me
with perfect fearlessness and earnest attention
to my pursuits.

At length the crisis in the oriole matters
came, as come it must, and not long after the
war-dance that has been described. The season
was advanced and nesting time already begun.
In fact, it was ended in several families ; mock-
ing-birds were about ready to fly, young chip-
ping sparrows peeped from every tuft of grass,
baby bluebirds were trying their wings at their
doors, the yellow-throated warbler was stuffing
her youngsters on the next tree, and the late —
kingbirds had nearly finished their nests.
Whether a pitched battle at last settled the
dispute, whether the modest little dame united
with her chosen mate against the common
enemy, or whether perchance — though this is
not likely — the elder bird tired of his useless
warfare, will never be known, for the whole

140 THE BRIDE WON.

matter was settled before we mortals were out
of bed, in the magic morning hours when so
many interesting things go on in bird and beast
life. When I came out, I saw at once that a
decision had been reached. The younger bird
had won his bride, and with much talk and
love-making the happy pair were busying them-
selves about a building spot. This first day of
their honeymoon was not, however, very peace-
ful; old troubles are not so soon forgotten, and
the discarded suitor found it hard to believe
that the repulse was final and he really should
not have his own way. He frequently made
his appearance in the old scenes, making him-
self agreeable in the usual way; but the newly
wedded were now a pair,and when both flung
themselves upon him he recognized at last the
inevitable, no longer resented it, and left them
in peace.

With much talk and discussion the tree that
had been the scene of the stormy wooing was
selected for the homestead, and the young wife
at once set to work upon the foundation, while
her spouse in his new role of lord and master
stood on a higher twig and gave his opinions;
much advice, no doubt, and plenty of instruc-
tion. I doubt his mastery, however, for I no-
ticed that, though meek, madam had a mind
of her own and an orchard oriole’s persistence

THEY WERE USED TO IT. 141

in carrying out her plans. He talked, it is
true, blustered and strutted around, but she
worked quietly, steadily, and in a business-like
way, utterly oblivious of him.

During this day, too, even this first ee not
five hours after he had tried to coax the bride
away, the elderly suitor came back from some
unknown quarter, with a brand-new wife of his
own; precipitation worthy of the vulgar house-
sparrow of our city streets, which these birds
also resemble in their constant broils. That
naturally put a complete end to further dispute
over sweethearts; but they could not change
their nature, and I observed that each young
husband had a vast amount of fault to find,
much scolding and grumbling. Happily it did
not seem to disconcert the little wives; they
sang as sweetly, and worked as steadily as
though they were used to it, and expected noth-
ing better, which was well for them.

The elder oriole and his mate soon settled in
another place, and I saw them no more, but I
was sorry to see upon what tree the young pair
decided to build, for a kingbird had an unfin-
ished nest in one of the lower branches, and
two families so aggressive would make a lively
neighborhood no doubt. Hostilities began in-
deed on the first day. Watching the oriole at
her building, I caught the pretty innocent-look-

142 ; A BIRD THIEF.

ing creature stealing material from the king-
bird’s nest, while her virtuous spouse perched
himself on the upper branch of the tree, exactly
as if on the watch for returning owners. Ina
low tone he talked to her as she entered the un-
completed nest, worked busily a moment, then
appeared on the edge with a soft white feather,
gathered it into a convenient shape, and flew
with it in her beak to the upper branch. Twice
afterward I saw that performance repeated, and
each time it was a white feather taken. On one
occasion the kingbird was at home. There was
a sharp cry of distress, a bustle, and in a mo-
ment Madam Oriole flew off with a feather,
while the outraged owner stood on a neighbor-
ing branch and uttered two or three plaintive
cries. Considering the size and the belligerent
nature of the kingbird, I was astonished, but
exactly thus it happened.

I greatly wished to stay and see the result,
for I had confidence enough in the bravery of
the kingbirds to be sure that the end was not
yet. Also, I longed to watch the restless pair
whose ups and downs [ had found so interesting.
I should like to see the orchard oriole in the
role of a father; a terribly fussy one he would
be without doubt. Above all, I most desired
to see the infant orioles, to know if they begin
their quarrels in their narrow cradle, and if

a

A QUARREL ON HAND. 148

their first note is a scold. But the troubles of
this courtship had, like the wars of Augustus
and Arabella in a three-volume novel, consumed
so much time that there was none left for post-
nuptial chronicles, and I was obliged to leave
them with a neighborhood quarrel on hand
which promised full employment for the head
of the family while his little mate was sitting.

i O hark to the brown thrush ! hear how he sit
i Now he pours the dear pain of his gladness
i - What a gush! and from out what golden spr
i What a rage of how sweet madness!

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VII.

FLUTTERBUDGET.
—¢—

‘* FLUTTERBUDGET”’ is the one expressive
word that exactly characterizes a certain brown
thrush, or thrasher, the subject of a year’s
study. ‘This bird is perhaps the only restless
creature that bears the name of thrush, and he
is totally unlike the rest of his family, having
neither dignity, composure, nor repose of man-
ner. My brown thrush, however, was exceed-
ingly interesting in his own way, if only as a
study of perpetual motion, of the varieties of
shape and attitude possible to him, and the fan-
tastic tricks upon wing of which he was capa- |
ble. One never tired of watching him, for he
was erratic in every movement, always invent-
ing some new sort of evolution, or a fresh way
of doing the old things, and scarcely a moment
at rest. A favorite exercise was flying across
the room, planting his feet flatly against the
side wall, turning instantly and flying back.
This he often did a dozen times in succession.

148 STRANGE USE OF THE FEET.

His feet were always “used to save his head ”
(contrary to our grandmothers’ teachings).
When he made the usual attempt to fly through
the window on his first outing in the room, he
went feet first against it, and thus saved him-
self a bumped head. His movements were ab-
rupt in the extreme, and always so unexpected
that he frequently threw the whole feathered
family into a panic, apparently without the
least intention of doing so. Standing beside the
cage of another bird, he would wheel quickly
and face the other way, absolutely nothing
more, but doing this in @ manner so startling
that the occupant of the cage scolded roundly.
He specially delighted in clambering all over
the cage of a goldfinch, acting as if he should
tear it in pieces, and greatly annoying the small
bird. He often flew up the side of the window
casing, as though climbing it like a ladder, his
feet touching it now and then; and he did the
same on the curtains of coarse net. Again he
flew across the room before the three windows,
turning to each one in turn, planted his feet
squarely on the linen shade, as on the wall
above mentioned, and without a pause passed
to the end of the room, and touched it with his
feet in the same strange way. Often when
standing for the moment perfectly still before
a window, he suddenly flew up, put both feet in

——————

QUEER WAYS. 149

this unbirdlike way against the window-shade,
turned and went to his cage. In like manner
he came in contact with a cage, the books on the
shelves, the back of a chair, or any piece of fur-
niture, taking from that point a new direction.
When startled he instantly bounded into the air
as though the ground were hot under his feet,
and often turned a corner or two before he came
down. In the middle of his most lovely song he
was quite likely, without the least warning, to
make a mad dash somewhere, turn a sharp cor-
ner, dive in another direction, and alight on the
spot he had left a moment before, and all in
so spasmodic a way that every bird was panic-
stricken.

The thrasher was exceedingly wary, and
nothing was droller than his manner of ap-
proaching anything, whether a worm [I had
thrown on the matting for him, or the bathing-
dish. In the case of the worm, the moment he
saw his prey — which I selected for its liveli-
ness — he came to a nearer perch, and stood
there a few minutes, posturing, shaking his
plumage in great excitement, looking at me and
then at the tempting object. Very soon he
dropped to the floor and started towards the
worm in the funniest way ; running a few steps,
stopping short and turning half round, ready
for instant flight, flirting his feathers with a

150 SENSATIONAL MANNERS.

great rustle, turning an anxious eye on me, then
on the wriggling attraction, running a step or
two, and repeating the performance. In this
way he advanced very gradually till near
enough to half encircle his prey; or to run and
hop sideways as though to describe a circle,
turning away at each pause as before, all the
time jerking and fluttering in intense agitation,
and always keeping an eye on me. Not that
he was in the least afraid of me; it was simply
his sensational way of doing everything. When
he finally came within reach of the worm, he
snatched it, and ran as though the enemy were
upon him.

His performances before entering the bath
were even more amusing. The bathing-dish, a
broad, deep plate, stood upon a towel on a ta-
ble. The bird alighted on the table, and began
first to peck the towel, pulling the fringe, work-
ing at any loose thread he discovered, and in-
dustriously enlarging any small hole he chanced
to find. In doing thus he often turned over the
edge, when he sprang back as though he had
seen a ghost. Recovering from the shock, he
circled around the dish with little hops, occa-
sionally giving a gentle peck at the edge of the
dish, or a snip at the water with his beak. Thus
he waltzed around the bath perhaps forty times,
now and then going so far as to jump up on the

EXCITEMENT OF THE BATH. 151

edge, make a dash at the water, and back off
as if it were hot, or to give a hop into the mid-
dle of the water and out again so quickly that
one could hardly believe he touched it. When,
after all this ceremony, he did go in to stay, he
made most thorough work, splashing in a fran-
tic way, as though he had but a moment to
stay, and in one minute getting more soaked
than many birds ever do. After this short dip
he dashed out, flew to a perch, and in the mad-
dest way jerked and shook himself dry ; pulling
his feathers through his beak with a snap, and
making a peculiar sound which I can liken only
to the rubbing of machinery that needs oil. |

The brown thrush was never so violent and
eccentric in movement as just after his bath.
Allowing himself often but a moment’s hasty
shake of plumage, he darted furiously across
the room, startling every bird, and alighting no
one could guess where. Then, after more jerks
and rapid shakings, he flung himself as unex-
pectedly in another direction, while at every
fresh turn birds scattered wildly, everywhere,
anywhere, out of his way, bringing up in the
most unaccustomed places; as, for instance, a
dignified bird, who never went to the floor,
coming to rest under the bed, or a ground-lover
flattened against the side of a cage. All this
disturbance seemed to please the thrasher, for

152 FULL OF PRANKS.

he had a spice of mischief in his composition.
A never failing diversion was teasing a gold-
finch. He began his pranks by entering the
cage and hammering on the tray, or digging
into the seed in a savage way that sent it fly-
ing out in a shower, which result so entertained
him that I was forced to close the door when
the owner was out. This the thrush resented,
and he next took to jumping against the side
of the cage, clinging a moment, then bouncing
off with so much force that the cage rocked
violently. Then he placed himself on the
perch by the door, and pounded, and pulled,
and jerked, and shook the door, till, if the
owner were home, he was nearly wild. Hav-
ing exhausted that amusement, he jumped on
the top and in some way jarred the cage
roughly. To protect it I made a cover of paper,
but, contrary to my intentions, this afforded the
rogue a new pleasure, for he soon found that
by tramping over it he could make a great
noise, and he quickly learned the trick of tear-
ing the paper into pieces, and uncovering the
little fellow, who, by the way, was not in the
least afraid, but simply enraged and insulted,
and when outside stood and faced his tormentor,
blustering and scolding him well.

- Tearing paper was always amusing to the
brown thrush. I have seen him take his stand

TEARING THE WALL PAPER. 158

near the wall, peck at the paper till he found
a weak spot where it would yield and break,
then take the torn edge in his bill and deliber-
ately tear it a little. It was “ snatching a fear-
ful joy,” however, for the noise always startled
him. First came a little tear, then a leap one
side, another small rent, another panic; and so
he went on till he had torn off a large piece
which dropped to the floor, while I sat too much
interested in the performance to think of sav-
ing the paper. (The room and its contents are
always secondary to the birds’ comfort and
pleasure, in my thoughts.) A newspaper on
the floor furnished him amusement for hours,
picking it to pieces, tearing pictures, from
which he always first pecked the faces, dragging
the whole about the floor to hear it rattle and
to scare himself with. A pile of magazines
on a table made a regular playground for him,
his plan being to push and pull at the back of
one till he got it loose from the rest, and then
work at it till it fell to the floor. He never
failed to reduce the pile to a disreputable-look-
ing muss. )
The bird was as fond of hammering as any
woodpecker, on the bottom of his cage, on
perches, on the floor, even on his food; and his
leaps or bounds without the apparent help of
his wings were extraordinary. Not infrequently

154 EXPRESSION OF WINGS.

I have seen him spring into the air just high
enough to see me over my desk, — three feet at
least, — probably to satisfy himself as to my
whereabouts, and drop instantly back to his
work or play.

This amusing bird was also intelligent. He
understood perfectly well what I wanted when
I spoke to him; that is, he had a guilty con-
science when in mischief that translated my
tone to him. Also he recognized instantly a
bird out of place, as, for instance, one on the
floor which usually frequented the perches and
higher parts of the room; and having taken
upon himself the office of regulator, he always
went after the bird thus out of his accustomed
beat. When I talked to the thrasher, he
answered me not only with a rough-breathing
sound, a sort of prolonged “ ha-a-a,”” but with
his wings as well. Of course this is not un-
common in birds, but none that I have seen use
these members so significantly as he did. His
way was to lift the wing nearest me, sometimes
very slightly, sometimes to a perpendicular posi-
tion, but only one wing, and only after I made
a remark. This exhibition was curious and
interesting, and I often prolonged my talk to
see the variety he could give to this simple
motion. His wings were always expressive, in
alighting in a new place, or where he suspected

A WHISPER SONG. 155

there might be danger or a surprise; the mo-
ment his feet touched he lifted one or both
wings quite high, dropping them at once.

A more lithe body than that of the brown
thrush I have never seen in feathers; he could
assume as many attitudes as he had emotions.
He often stood on a perch and postured for a
long time, as if greatly excited and meditating
some mad deed, and I must confess he usually
carried out the intention. Not only was he
able to put his body into all possible shapes, but
he had extraordinary command of his feathers.
He could erect them on any one part alone, on
the top of the head, the shoulders, the back,
or the chin. He often raised the feathers just
above the tail, letting that member hang
straight down, giving him the appearance of
being chopped square off.

The song of this bird is well known and
quite celebrated; indeed, in the Southern
States he is called the French mocking-bird, as |
only second to the mocking-bird proper. My
bird never sang above a whisper, one may say ;
that is, he never opened his mouth to let out
the sound, though he was extremely fond of
singing, indulging in it by the hour. He hardly
paused for eating, or flying, or hopping around
on the floor, but dropped sweet notes in between
the mouthfuls, and kept up the warble through
all movements.

156 IN THE TWILIGHT.

As dusk came on the brown thrush began a
wonderful series of postures, more peculiar and
varied than one would suppose possible to so
large and apparently clumsy a bird. Some-
times he stretched up very tall, then instantly
crouched as if about to spring ; one moment he
turned his head downward as though to dive
off, then wheeled and faced the other way;
now he drew his body out long to a point, head
and tail exactly on a level, then head and tail
thrust up, making his back the shape of a bow;
at one time he threw his head back as though
about to turn a back somersault, then scraped
his bill, shook himself out, and made the harsh
breathing I have spoken off; in another mo-
ment he spread his tail like a fan, and instantly
closed it again; then turned his head on one
side very far, while his tail hung out the other
side, and in this odd position jerked himself
along by short jumps the whole length of his
perch. Between the postures and on every
occasion he scraped his bill violently. Next
began movements: first he ran down his three
perches, across the floor, and hopped to the
upper one from the outside, touching his feet
to the wires as he went, so rapidly that my
eyes could not follow him; then he alighted on
the perch with a graceful flop of one wing,
sometimes also bowing his head several times,

“7S THAT THE WAY YOU EAT?” 157

and uttering the breathing sound each time.
Again he jumped from the upper perch to one
directly under it, and returned the same way
by a very peculiar motion: standing on the
lower perch, he turned his head over his
shoulder, and sprang back and up at the same
time, landing in exactly the same position on
the perch above, with perfect ease and grace.

Nothing pleased the thrasher more than
watching other birds ; he observed them closely,
especially liking to stand on top of a cage and
see the life below,—an agitated life it was
apt to be when he was there. Thus he some-
times stood on the goldfinch’s cage and noticed
every motion with great interest, yet with an
indescribably ironical air, as if he said, “ My
dear sir, is that the way you eat?” He
showed particular interest in seed-eating birds,
apparently not understanding how they could
enjoy such food. Though full of bluster and
- pretense, he was as gentle as any bird in the
room, never presumed on his size as the biggest,
and, though liking to tease and worry, never
really touching one. The smallest only needed
to stand and face him to see that it was all
bluster and fun.

All this until spring began to stir his blood
and tempt him occasionally, after long postur-
ing and many feints, to deliver a gentle dig at

158 HE SOON SETTLED THE SPARROWS.

a neighbor’s ribs. Now, too, he began to show
interest in out-of-doors, standing on the win-
dow sash and looking out, which is a familiar
sign that a bird’s time to depart has come. In
his case I did not consider it necessary to carry
him to the park to liberate him, for I was sure
he could take care of the sparrows and protect
himself — and so it proved. When he found
himself suddenly on a tall tree in the street, and
before he recovered from his surprise, those dis-
reputable birds gathered around him to see
what he was like. They soon found out; he
quickly recovered himself, made a wild dash
that scattered them like leaves before the wind,
and then planted himself on a branch to await
another attempt. But sparrows, though saucy,
are knowing, and not one came near him again.
They had quite satisfied their curiosity, and
after a few moments’ waiting the brown thrush
went on his way rejoicing.

ee

ae. |
a :

“Q WONDROUS SINGERS.”

—

PMID Sees Pe ea ee
er eiiat 4 a

eb.

In the swamp in secluded recesses

A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.

Sing on! sing on, you gray-brown bird!

Sing from the swamps, the recesses, pour
Your chant from the bushes ;

O liquid and free and tender!
O wild and loose to my soul!
O wondrous singer!

SSC Se ey Ee Sr eS PS Pe ES id eS Se ee ee ee

WALT WHITMAN.

TX.

“Q WONDROUS SINGERS.’

——¢—

I FEEL considerable reluctance in approach-
ing the subject of my small thrushes. None
but a poet should speak of them — so beautiful,
so enchanting in song. Yet I cannot bear to
let their lovely lives pass in silence; therefore
if they must needs remain unsung, they shall
at least be chronicled.

There were two: one the gray-cheeked thrush,
the other the veery or Wilson’s, and they
passed a year in my house, filling it with a
marvelous rippling music like the sweet babble
of a brook over stones; like the gentle sighing
of the wind in pine-trees; like other of nature’s
enchanting sounds, which I really must borrow
a poet’s words to characterize :

“O liquid and free and tender!
O wild and loose to my soul!
O wondrous singer.”

The gray-cheeked, most charming in every
look and motion, uttered his notes in a free

162 ‘“MY WOODS IN SONG.”

sweep or crescendo, which began low, gathered
force as he went on, and then gradually died out ;
all in one long slur, without a defined or stac-
cato note, making a wonderful resemblance to
wind sounds, as Emerson expresses it :

“‘ His music was the Southwind’s sigh.”

The song of the veery was quite different,
low, rapid, interspersed with a louder, wild-
sounding cry, or, as aptly described by a lis-
tener, like the gurgling sounds made by blow-
ing through a tube into soft water, with occa-
sional little explosions. The soft, whispered
warble of a brown thrush added a certain under-
tone which combined and harmonized both
these, forming with them a rhapsody of a rip-
pling, bubbling character impossible to de-
scribe, but constantly reminding one of running
streams, and gentle water-falls, and coming
nearer to “ put my woods in song” than any
other bird-notes whatever. Neither of the per-
formers opened his mouth, so that the trio was
very low, a true whisper-song.

It was somewhat curious that with one ex-
ception all the birds in the room through
these months sang whisper-songs also, without
opening the bill. There were six of them, and
every one delighted in singing; the three
thrushes, a bluebird, a female orchard oriole,
and a Mexican clarin. To the thrushes, music

A BEWITCHING DANCE. 163

seemed necessary to life; hour after hour they
stood on their respective perches across the
room, puffed out into balls, ** pouring out their
souls,” and entrancing us not only with their
suggestive melody, but with graceful and po-
etical movements, and a beauty of look and
bearing that moved one deeply. During the
aria both birds stood motionless, one with wings
drooping, and accenting every note, the other
with tail slightly jerking for the same pur-
pose.

In character no less than in song the birds
differed; bright, active and high-spirited, the
gray-cheeked delighted in the freedom of
the room, feared nothing, came upon the desk
freely, and calmly met one’s eyes with his own,
brave free soul that he was, while his vis-d-vis
was timid and shy, could not be induced to
leave the shelter of his home though the door
stood open all day. He never resented the in-
trusion of a neighbor, nor disputed the posses-
sion of his own dish.

Almost as interesting as his song was a be-
witching dance with which the gray-cheeked
charmed every one fortunate enough to see
him. His chosen hour was the approach of
evening, when, with body very erect and head
thrown up in ecstasy, he lifted his wings high
above his back, fluttering them rapidly with a

164 MYSTERY IN THRUSH LIFE.

sound like soft patter of summer rain, while
he moved back and forth on hisperch with the
daintiest of little steps and hops: now up, now
down, now across the cage, with gentle noise
of feet and wings. No music accompanied it,
and none was needed—it was music itself.
Not only did he dance away the long hours of
twilight, till so dark he could not be seen, but
he greeted the dawn in the same way; long
before any other bird stirred, before the hid-
eous morning call of the first sparrow in the
street, the soft flutter of his wings, the light
patter of his feet was heard. In the night also,
if gas was lighted, however dimly, dancing
began and was continued in the darkness, long
after the light was out and every other feather
at rest. A sudden light stopped the motion,
but revealed the dancer agitated, stirred, with
soft dark eyes fixed upon the observer. This
dance was not an attempt or indication of a
desire to escape, as I am sure for several rea-
sons. I can tell the instant that longing for
freedom sets in. It was afresh sign of the
strange, mysterious emotion with which all
thrushes greet the rising and setting of the
sun.

The singular use of the feet by this bird was
very peculiar, and not confined to his dancing
hours. While standing on the edge of the

THE DEAR DELIGHT. 165

bathing-dish, longing, yet dreading to enter the
water, on alighting upon an unaccustomed
perch, or venturing on to the desk, many times
a day he took the little steps, lifting first one,
then the other foot very slightly, and bringing
it down with a sound without changing his po-
sition. It seemed to be an evidence of excite-
ment, as another bird might exhibit by a quiv-
ering of the wings. The veery was also a
dancer, but ina different way. He fanned his
wings violently and moved back and forth across
the top of a cage, but always in daylight, and
then only on the rare occasions when, by placing
his food outside, he was coaxed from his cage.

Bathing was—next to singing—the dear
delight of the gray-cheeked’s life, yet no bird
ever had more misgivings about taking the fatal
plunge. His first movement on leaving the
cage was to go to the bath, around which he
hovered, now this side, now that, one moment
on the perch above, the next on the edge of the
dish, plainly longing to be in, yet the mere ap-
proach of the smallest bird in the room drove
him away. Not that he was afraid, he was not
in the least a coward; he met everybody and
everything with the dignity and bravery of a
true thrush. Neither was it that he was dis-
abled when wet, which makes some birds hesi-
tate; he was never at all disordered by his

166 THE IDEAL BIRD IN THE GLASS. |

bath, and however long he soaked, or thor-
oughly he spattered, his plumage remained in
place and he was perfectly able to fly at once.
It appeared simply that he could not make up
his mind to go in. Then too, it soon became
apparent that he noticed his reflection in the
water. He often stood on the edge after bath-
ing, as well as before, looking intently upon the
image. Before the glass he did the same, look-
ing earnestly and in a low tone “uttering his
thoughts to the ideal bird which he fancied he
saw before him.” Indeed, I think this ideal
thrush was a great comfort to him.

Once having decided to go into the bath he
enjoyed it exceedingly, though in an unusual
way, fluttering and splashing vigorously for a
moment, then standing motionless up to his
body in the water, not shaking or pluming him-
self, not alarmed, but quietly enjoying the
soaking. After several fits of splashing alter-
nated with soaking, he went to a perch and
shook and plumed himself nearly dry, and just

when one would think he had entirely finished,

he returned to the dish, and began again —
hesitating on the brink, coquetting with the
‘‘ideal thrush” in the water, and in fact doing
the whole thing over again.

My bird had a genuine thrush’s love of quiet
and dislike of a crowd, preferred unfrequented

STRANGE PLACES TO ALIGHT. 167

places to alight on, and was quite ingenious in
finding them. The ornamental top of a gas-
-fixture a few inches below the ceiling, which
was cup-shaped and nearly hid him, was a fa-
vorite place. So was also the loose edge of a
hanging card-board map which, having been
long rolled, hung out from the wall like a half-
open scroll. This he liked best, for no other
bird ever approached it, and here he passed
much time swinging, as if he enjoyed the mo-
tion which he plainly made efforts to keep up.
His plan was to fly across the room and alight
suddenly upon it, when, of course it swayed up
and down with his weight. The moment it
came toa rest, he flew around the room in a
wide circle and came down again heavily, hold-
ing on with all his might, and keeping his bal-
ance with wings and tail. He enjoyed it so
well that he often swung for a long time.

Later he found another snug retreat where
no bird ever intruded. He discovered it in this
way: one day, on being suddenly startled by ©
an erratic dash around the room of the brown
thrush, which scattered the smaller birds like
leaves before the wind, he brought up under
the bed on the floor. The larger bird had evi-
dently marked the place of his retreat, for he
followed him, and in his mad way rushed under

when the gray-cheeked disappeared. The bed-

168 RETIREMENT UNDER THE BED.

stead was a light iron one, high from the floor,
so that all this was plainly seen. No one being
in sight, the brown thrush came out and turned
to his regular business of stirring up the house-
hold while the little thrush was not to be seen,
and perfect silence seemed to indicate that he
was not there at all. After some search, aided

‘by an indiscreet movement on his part, he was

found perched on the framework, between the
mattress and the wall. This narrow retreat,
apparently discovered by accident, soon became
a favorite retiring place when he did not care
for society.

This interesting bird, with all his dignity,
had a playful disposition. Nothing pleased him
better than rattling and tearing to bits a news-
paper or the paper strips over a row of books,
although he had to stand on the latter while he
worked at it; and notwithstanding it not only
rustled, but disturbed his footing as well, he
was never discouraged. A more violent jerk
than usual sometimes startled him so that he
bounded six or eight inches into the air in his
surprise, but he instantly returned to the play
and never rested till he had picked holes, torn
pieces out, and reduced it to a complete wreck.

All through the long winter this charming
thrush, with his two neighbors, delighted the
house with his peculiar and matchless music,

SURPRISE OF FREEDOM. 169

and endeared himself by his gentle and lovely
disposition. No harsh sound was ever heard
from him, there was no intrusion upon the
rights of others, and no vulgar quarrels dis-
turbed his serene soul. But as spring began to
stir his blood he changed a little; he grew
somewhat belligerent, refused to let any one
alight in his chosen places, and even drove oth-
ers away from his side of the room. Now, too,
he added to his already melting song an inde-
scribable trill, something so spiritual, so charged
with the wildness of the woods, that no words
—even of a poet—can do it justice. Now,
too, he began to turn longing glances out of the
window, and evidently his heart was no longer
with us. So, on the first perfect day in May
he was taken to a secluded nook in a park and
his door set open. His first flight was to a low
tree, twenty feet from the silent spectator, who
waited, anxious to see if his year’s captivity
had unfitted him for freedom.

Perching on the lowest branch, the thrush
instantly crouched in an attitude of surprise
and readiness for anything, which was common
with him, his bill pointed up at an angle of
forty-five degrees, head sunk in the shoulders,
and tail standing out stiffly, thus forming a per-
fectly straight line from the point of his beak
to the tip of his tail. ‘There he stood, perfectly

170 A HAPPY BIRD.

motionless, apparently not moving so much as
an eyelid for twenty minutes, trying to realize
what had happened to him and in the patient,
deliberate manner of a thrush to adjust himself
to his new conditions. In the nook were silence
and delicious odors of the woods; from a thick
shrub on one side came the sweet erratic song
of a cat-bird, and at a little distance the rich or-
gan-tones of the wood-thrush. All these entered
the soul of the emancipated bird; he listened,
he looked, and at last he spoke, a low, soft,
‘‘wee-o.” That broke the spell, he drew him-
self up, hopped about the tree, flew to a shrub,
all the time posturing and jerking wings and
tail in extreme excitement and no doubt happi-
ness to the tips of his toes. At last he dropped
to the ground and fell to digging and reveling
in the soft loose earth with enthusiasm. The
loving friend looking on was relieved; this was
what she had waited for, to be assured that he
knew where to look for supplies, and though
she left his familiar dish full of food where he
could see it in case of accident, she came away
feeling that he had not been incapacitated for a
free life by his months with her.

One more glimpse of him made it clear also
that he could fly as well as his wild neighbors,
and removed the last anxiety about him. A
wood-thrush, after noticing the stranger for

; "4
india

FAREWELL. 171

some minutes, finally braved the human pres-
ence and made a rush for the little fellow about
half his size. Whether war or welcome moved
him was not evident, for away they flew across
the nook, not more than a foot apart, now
sweeping low over the grass, then mounting
higher to pass over the shrubs that defined it.
A hundred feet or more the chase continued,
and then the smaller bird dropped into a low
bush, and the larger one passed on.

Then lonely, with empty cage and a happy
heart-ache, his friend turned away and left the
beautiful bird to his fate, assured that he was
well able to supply his needs and to protect
himself — in a word, to be free.

7
|
t

pe

A BIRD OF AFFAIRS.

- be cae SAIL ete EI Hh ; : ; He iy ; Aan te
Seis eta es Gat oe apt idachs SA Ce TES Se

But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The jay makes answer as the magpie aa
And all the air is filled with pleasant sound of 1
All things that love the sun are out of doors.
Worpsw

—

X.
A BIRD OF AFFAIRS.

—

OnE of the most interesting birds I have
studied was a blue-jay; I may say is, for he
stands at this moment not six feet from me, his
whole mind intent upon the business of driving
small corks through a hole which they snugly
fit. He takes the cork, as he does everything,
lengthwise, and turns it about till he gets the
smaller end outside; then pushes it into the
bole and pounds it, delivering straight and
rapid strokes with his iron beak, till it is not
only driven up to the head, but, since he has
found out that he can do so, till it drops out on
the other side, when, after an interested glance
to see where it has fallen, he instantly goes to
the floor for another, and repeats the perform-
ance. Hammering, indeed, is one of his chief
pleasures, and no woodpecker, whose special
mission it is supposed to be, can excel him; in
excitement, in anger, when suffering from ennut
or from embarrassment, he always resorts to

176 INDUSTRIOUS MISCHIEF.

that exercise to relieve his feelings. I have
thought sometimes he did it to hear the noise
and to amuse himself, in which case it might
be called drumming.

Not only does my bird occupy himself with
corks, but with perches and the woodwork of
his cage, with so great success that the former
have to be frequently renewed, and the latter
looks as though rats had nibbled it. The delib-
erate way in which he goes to work to destroy
his cage is amusing, lifting the end of a perch
and quietly throwing it to the floor, or pound-
ing and splitting off a big splinter of the soft
pine and carefully hiding it. To give him liber-
ty, as I have, is simply to enlarge the field of his
labors, and furnish him congenial employment
from morning to night, the happiest and busiest
member of the household. He tries every-
thing: the covers of cardboard boxes, always
choosing the spot that is weakest at the cor-
ner, and pounding till it is ruined; the cane
seats of chairs, which he selects with equal
judgment, and never leaves till he has effected
a breach; a delicate work-basket, at which he
labors with enthusiasm, driving his pickaxe bill
into it and cutting a big hole. It is most
curious to see him set himself to pick a hole,
for instance, in a close-woven rattan chair, or a
firm piece of matting stretched upon the floor.

SCALLOPING THE LEAVES. 177

Selecting, by some esoteric wisdom, the most
vulnerable spot, he pushes and pounds and
pokes till he gets the tip of his beak under a
strand, and then pulls and jerks and twists till
he draws it out of its place. After this the
task is easy, and he spends hours over it, ending
with a hole in the matting three or four inches
in diameter; for he is never discouraged, and
his persistence of purpose is marvelous. Books
are a special object of his attentions; not only
does he peck the backs as they stand on the
shelves, till he can insert his beak and tear off a
bit, but if he finds one lying down he thrusts the
same useful instrument into the edge, slightly
open so as to @nclose two or three leaves, and
then, with a dexterous twist of the head, jerks
out a neat little three-cornered piece. Thus he
goes on, and after a short absence from the room
I have found a great litter of white bits, and my
big dictionary curiously scalloped on the edges.
He is able to pound up as well as down, crouch-
ing, turning his head back, and delivering tre-
mendous blows on the very spot he wishes, and
so accurately that he easily cuts a thread, hold-
ing its strands under one toe.

But hammering, though a great pleasure, is
not his dearest delight. ‘The thing for which,
apparently, he came into the world is to put
small objects out of sight,— bury them, in

178 MAKING THE ROOM NEAT.

fact. No doubt the business for which Nature
fitted him, and which in freedom he would fol-
low with enthusiasm, is the planting of trees;
to his industry we probably owe many an oak
and nut tree springing up in odd places. In
captivity, poor soul, he does the best he can to
fulfill his destiny. When he has more of any
special dainty than he can eat at the moment,
as meat, or bread and milk, he hides it at the
back of his tray, or in the hole already spoken
of in connection with the corks; and when out-
side, nothing can be droller than the air of con-
cern with which he goes around the floor, pick-
ing up any small thing he finds, left purposely
for him, a burnt match, a small key, stray pins,
or a marble, and seeks the very best and most
secluded spot in the room in which to hide it.
A pin he takes lengthwise in his mouth, which
he closes as though he had swallowed it, as at
first I feared he had. He has no doubt about
the best place for that; he long ago decided
that between the leaves of a book is safest. So
he proceeds at once to find a convenient volume,
and thrusts the pin far in out of sight. A
match gives him the most trouble. He tries
the cracks under the grooves in the moulding of
the doors, the base board, between the matting
and the wall, or under a rocker; in each place
he puts it carefully, and pounds it in, then hops
off, giving me one of the )

GETTING OFF MATCHES. 179

“sidelong glances wise
Wherewith the jay hints tragedies,”

attempting to look unconcerned, as if he had
not been doing anything. But if he sees that
he is observed, or the match is too plainly in
sight, he removes it and begins again, running
and hopping around on the floor with the most
solemn, business-like air, as though he had the
affairs of nations on his shoulders, the match
thrust nearly its whole length into his mouth.
The place usually decided upon is an opening
between the breadths of matting. It is amus-
ing when he chances to get hold of a box of
matches, accidentally left open, for he feels
the necessity and importance of disposing of
each one, and is busy and industrious in pro-
portion to the task before him. It is not so
pleasing, however, when, in his hammering, he
sets one off, as he often does; for they are
“parlor matches,” and light with a small explo-
sion, which frightens him half out of his wits,

and me as well, lest he set the house afire. ©
The business of safely and securely secreting
one match will frequently occupy him half an
hour. He finds the oddest hiding-places, as in
a caster between the wheel and its frame; up
inside the seat of a stuffed chair, to reach
which he flies up on to the webbing and goes
in among the springs; in the side of my slipper

180 FILLING UP KEYHOLES.

while on my foot; in the loop of a bow; in the
plaits of a ruffle; under a pillow. Often when
I get up, a shower of the jay’s treasures falls
from various hiding-places about my dress, —
nails, matches, shoe-buttons, and others; and I
am never sure that I shall not find soft, milk-
soaked bread in my slipper. But the latest dis-
covered and most annoying of his receptacles is
in my hair. He delights in standing on the
high back of my rocking-chair, or on my
shoulder, and he soon discovered several desira-
ble hiding-places conveniently near, such as my
ear, and under the loosely dressed hair. I did
not object to his using these, but when he
attempted to tuck away some choice thing be-
tween my lips I rebelled. I never expect to
find a keyhole that he can reach, free from
bread crumbs, and the openings of my waste-
basket are usually decorated with objects half
driven in.

The jay shows unbounded interest in every-
thing. Every sound and every fresh sight
arouses him instantly; his crest comes up,
his feathers fluff out, and he is on tiptoe to
see what will come next. He is remarkably
discriminating among people, and takes violent
likes and dislikes on the instant.. Some per-
sons, without any reason that I can discover,
he salutes on their first appearance with an in-

WAR UPON THE BABY. 181
describable cry, like “ obble! obble! obble!”

At others he squawks madly. On one occa-
sion he took an intense dislike to a lady, of
whom birds generally are very fond, and he
made a peculiar display of rage, squawking
and screaming at her, raising his crest, stamp-
ing, snapping his beak, giving vicious digs at
the side of the cage, as though he would eat
her if he could reach her. And although he
often saw her, and she tried her best to win
him, he always showed the same spirit, going
_ so far, when out of his cage, as to show fight,
fly up at her, peck her savagely, and chase her
to the door when she left. Again, a lady came
in with her baby, and he at once singled out
the infant as his enemy, fixing a very wicked
glance on it, but in perfect silence. He jumped
back and forth as if mad to get out, and sat
with open mouth, panting asif exhausted, with
eyes immovably turned to the baby. He would
not pay the slightest attention to any one else,
nor answer me when [ spoke, which was very
unusual, till they left the room, when the mo-
ment the door closed behind them he began
rapidly, as if to make up for lost time. Some
visitors whom he fancies, he receives in silence,
but with slightly quivering wings; only the
very few he loves best are greeted with a low,
sweet, and very peculiar chatter, which he keeps
up as long as he is talked to.

182 IN THE DESK DRAWERS.

Investigating everything in the room is one
of my bird’s greatest pleasures, and most at-
tractive of all he finds the drawer of my desk,
on the edge of which he stands, delighted and
bewildered by the variety before him. Great
would be the havoc if I were not there; and
the curious thing about it is that he will pull
things over carelessly, with one eye on me, to
see if I object. If, on touching some particu-
lar thing, he sees that I do not approve, — and
he recognizes my sentiment as quickly as a
bright child would,—that thing, and that
only, he will have. At once he snatches it
and flies away across the room, and I may
chase him in vain. He regards it as a frolic
got up for his amusement, and no child ever
equaled him in dodging; he cannot be driven,
and if cornered he uses his wings. I simply
put my wits against his, follow him about till
he has to drop his load to breathe, when a sud-
den start sends him off, and I secure it. If I.
cover up anything, he knows at once it is some
forbidden treasure, and devotes all his energy
and cunning, which are great, to uncovering
and possessing himself of it. He opens any
box by delivering sharp blows under the edge
of the cover, and hides my postage stamps
in books and magazines. He hops around
the floor in a heavy way,as often sideways as

A BIRD OF OPINIONS. 183

straight, and holds his toes as close together as
though he had worn tight boots all his life. If
startled, he bounds up into the air in the oddest
way, a foot or two, or even more, generally
turning half round, and coming down with his
head the other way. If much alarmed he will
bounce up in this way half a dozen times in
quick succession, and should he happen to be
on a table at the time, he usually ends by land-
ing on the floor. His alighting after any flight
is most singular: he comes to the floor in a
crouching position, legs sprawled, body horizon-
tal and nearly touching the matting, looking
like a bird gone mad; then instantly springs
up six or eight inches, half turns, and stands
upright, crest erect, and looking excited, almost
frightened. If much disturbed he comes down
with wings half open, tail held up, and every
feather awry, as if he were out in a gale, ut-
tering at the same time aloud squawk. He is
a most expert catcher, not only seizing without
fail a canary seed thrown to him, but even flut- —
tering bits of falling paper, the hardest of all
things to catch.

The blue-jay is a bird of opinions about most
things, and able to express himself quite clearly ;
as, for example, when he found himself under
a chair without rounds, on which he likes to
perch, he stood and looked around on every side,

184 STAMPING HIS FEET.

and made a low, complaining cry, plainly a pro-
test against so unnatural a chair; and again,
when he scolded at the rain that came in sudden
gusts against the window, or charged furiously
at the crack under a door when he heard sweep-
ing outside. In general he is very quiet when
one is in the room, but the moment the door
closes behind the last person his voice is heard,
— whistling exactly like a boy, calling, squawk-
ing, and occasionally uttering a sweet, though
not loud song, which is varied by a sound like
rubbing a cork against glass. The most quiet
approach silences him. When under strong
emotion he may squawk or scream before spec-
tators, but he never whistles or sings when he
knows any one is in the room. When out of
his sight and so long silent that he has forgotten
me, I have now and then heard the song.

The funniest thing this knowing fellow does
is to stamp his feet, and itis a genuine expres-
sion of impatience or displeasure. When I take
something away from him or he thinks I mean
to do so, or refuse him something he wants, he
stands still and jerks his feet in such a way that
they stamp with a loud sound, as if they w:2re
of iron. Itisvery droll. In serious anger, he
adds to this, bowing and curtsying by bending
the legs, snapping the bill, pecking, and jump-
ing up with the body without lifting the feet.

HE LOST HIS TAIL. 185

It may be that the jay in freedom disturbs
other birds, as has been affirmed, but among a
number smaller than himself my bird has never
once shown the least hostility. He is inter-
ested in their doings, but the only unpleasant
thing he has done is to shriek and scream
to stop their singing. In spite of his nat-
ural boldness, always facing the enemy, al-
ways ready to fight, and never running from
danger nor allowing himself to be driven any-
where, when he is not quite well he is a timid
bird. In moulting, this spring, my jay lost
his entire tail, and was extremely awkward in
getting about, almost helpless, in fact; and at
that time he was afraid to hop to the floor, and
refused tocome out of the cage. (Ishould have
said, by the way, that he feared hurting him-
self; he was quite as spirited as ever, as ready
to show fight.) To get him out of the door I
offered him the greatest inducements, with the
eage on the floor, so that he could not fall far.
He would stand on the lowest perch, three
inches from the floor, look at the meat or what-
ever treasure I placed in the open doorway, and
ery a faint, low, jay-baby cry, yet not dare de-
scend, though plainly aching with desire to get
the object so nearly within his reach. Even
since he is entirely recovered and the possessor
of a beautiful long tail, he dreads the one little

186 ON THE PLAYER'S HEAD.

step, and has to be coaxed out and in his cage
every day, as we coax a startled child.

Nothing ever interested the jay more than a
piano, though he is fond of any music. The
first time he heard one he quickly hopped across
to the player, pulled at the hem of her dress,
flew up to her lap, then her arm, and mounted —
to her shoulder, where he stood some time,
looking and listening, turning his head this way
and that, raising his crest, jerking his body,
and in every way showing intense excitement.
Finally he took his last step, to the top of her
head, where he was more pleased to be than the
player was to have him. She put him down;
and the next time he tried a different way,
mounted to the keys, and thence to the cover,
crouching and peering under the lid to see
where the sounds came from. Satisfied about
this, he returned to her head, which he evi-
dently considered the best post of observation.
Every time she played she received the devoted
attentions of the bird, and he could not be kept
away.

My blue-jay is now a beautiful creature, in
perfect plumage, with breast and back plumes
so long that often in repose, just after he has
dressed them, the violet blue of the back meets
the light drab of his breast, on the side, cover-
ing his wings completely, and making a lovely

OUR TROUBLESOME ROGUE. 187

picture. All through the spring excitement,
when the other birds, one after another, grew
uneasy, belligerent, or unhappy, and one after
another were returned to freedom, he never
showed a moment’s uneasiness, an instant’s de-
sire to be free, but scrupulously attended to his
own regular business, which is to pound and
pull and peck to pieces my furniture, and espe-
cially to destroy my books.

As these last words are written, just at dusk,
the dear, troublesome rogue comes down to the
corner of his cage nearest to me, and as if he
understood that I had said something about him
begins to talk and remonstrate in a low, loving
tone. I do feel reproached, and I must unsay it.
His business, his manifest destiny, is to hammer
and peck the shells of nuts, and to hide them
away where they will grow; and if cruel man
confines him in a house, he must exercise his
untiring energy, his demon of work, in what he
finds there, — and who can blame him, or find
fault? Not I, certainly.

In behalf of this bird against whom the pen
of nearly every writer is lifted, let me quote
from one of our early and most careful observ-
ers, William Bartram: ‘ The jay is one of the
most useful agents in the economy of nature for
disseminating forest trees and other ruciferous
and hard-seeded vegetables on which they feed.

These birds alone are capable in a few 3
time to replant all the cleared lands.” Tho
pee who was perhaps the closest of our modern s stu- —
A 7 dents of nature, cites this passage and emphat i
ically affirms its justice.

t -

a <7 = ay
» ie Oe ag al ft bee

THE BLUE-JAY AGAIN.

. Anct i
3 ta
= As for birds, I do not believe there is one of then but
more good than harm ; and of how many featherless:
can this be said ?

XI.
THE BLUE-JAY AGAIN.
—_@e—

THE blue-jay came out of the egg with his
mind made up. He always knew exactly what
he wanted, and never doubted that he knew
how to get it. I wrote of this bird some time
ago, but he was then a comparatively new ac-
quaintance. He lived with us many months
after that, and became much more familiar ; for
besides being slow to feel thoroughly at home,
he was very young, and he grew in wisdom with
age. So I have more to say of him.

Human society was necessary to the jay; he
eared for the other birds of the room only as |
objects on which to play tricks for his own
amusement. He was peculiar, too, in never
liking more than one friend at a time, and was
very decided in his epinions of people, having
a distinctly different reception for each one of
the household, as well as for strangers. His
mistress was always his prime favorite; and
although during my absence from home he

192 TO HIS BEST BELOVED.

adopted some one temporarily in my: place, he
was never so affectionate to that one as to me,
and the instant I returned resumed his old re-
lations to each of us.

To his best beloved this bird never squawked
or whistled; on the contrary, he talked in low,
sweet tones, hardly more than a murmur,
slightly lifting and quivering his wings, sidling
as near as he could get, and if I put my face
down to him touching my cheek or lips gently
with his beak, in little taps, like kisses. Any
one else in that position would receive a violent
peck. Sometimes, when I was busy, and there-
fore silent a long time, and the jay was in his
cage, where I was obliged to put him in order
to work at all, he stood perfectly quiet and
motionless an hour at a time, moving only when
he was hungry, and apparently watching me
every instant, —a performance very uncommon
in a bird, who usually has some interests of
his own, however fond he may be of a person.
The moment I spoke to him his whole manner
changed. He came at once as near as he could,
about four feet from me, and began to talk,
holding his tail on one side, and both wings
spread to their fullest extent and parallel with
his back. In this attitude he hopped up and
down his three perches, always as near my side
as possible, and evidently in great excitement.

a

i QU Bal waged a.

inl) ee

FOND OF ICE-CREAM. 193

If during this exhibition any one came in, his
wings instantly dropped, though he did not
stop talking to me. This action of the wings
showed extreme affection, and must not be pro-
faned by common eyes. When I came close
and replied to him, his agitation was almost
painful to see, — such loving tones, such gentle
kisses, such struggles to express himself. Not
only did he insist on sharing his dainties with
me, offering me mocking-bird food or bread and
milk in the most loving way, but he wished to
share mine; ice-cream he delighted in, cake he
was as fond of as any child, and candy he al-
ways begged for, though instead of eating it
he hid it somewhere about the room, — under
my pillow, or between the leaves of a book, all
sticky as it was from his mouth.

Second in the blue-jay’s affection was a lady
to whom at first he took a great dislike. She
tried her best to win him, talking to him, treat-
ing him to various tidbits, and offering him the
hospitality of her room,—separated from the
bird-room by a passage, — and above all danc-
ing with him. These attentions in time secured
her a warm place in his regards, though his
treatment of her was very different from that
reserved for me. He was always gentle with
me, while in her society he exhibited all his
noisy accomplishments, — squawked, whistled

194 FROLICS WITH HIS FRIEND.

and screamed, stamped his feet, and jounced (the
only word to describe a certain raising and vio-
lent dropping of the body without lifting the
feet). He ran after her when she left the
room ; he pecked her hand, and flew up at her
face. Gradually, as he grew to like her better,
the more violent demonstrations ceased ; but he
was always boisterous with her, generally ex-
pected a half-fight, half-frolic, and I must say
never failed to enjoy it greatly.

The dance spoken of was droll. His chosen
place for this indulgence was the back of a tall
chair. His friend stood before this, whistled,
bowed, and moved her head up and down as
if dancing ; and he on his perch did the same,
jumping up and down in a similar way, answer-
ing her whistle for whistle, moving his feet, slid-
ing from one side to the other, curtsying, lower-
ing the body and flattening the head feathers,
then rising, stamping his feet, and drooping his
wings. This he kept up as long as she played
second to him.

When this playfellow went away, the jay
missed his dances and frolics. He flew into her
empty room, perched on the back of the rock-
ing-chair, where he had been wont to stand and
pull her hair, and began a peculiar cry. Again
and again he repeated it, louder and louder each
time, till it ended in a squawk, impatient and

sit

“ OBBLE! OBBLE!” 195

angry, as much as to say, “ Why don’t you an-
swer?” After a while he began to whistle
the notes she used to imitate; finding that this
brought no response, he returned to the cry;
and when at last he had exhausted all his re-
sources, he came back to my desk and consoled
himself by talking to me.

A young lady in the family he greeted by
flying at her, alighting on her chair-back, claw-
ing her neck, and squawking; and before a
youth who often teased him he trailed his
wings on the floor, tail spread and dragging
also, uttering a curious “obble! obble!’’ some-
thing like the cry of a turkey. The head of
the household he met with stamping of the feet,
and no sound; while at a maid who came in
to sweep he always flew furiously, aiming for
her head, and invariably frightening her half
out of her wits.

The jay was extremely wary about anything
like a trap, and being always on the lookout for
one, he sometimes, like bigger persons, fooled
himself badly. Finding him fond of standing
on a set of turning bookshelves, I thought to
please him by arranging over it a convenient
resting-place. He watched me with great in-
terest, but, when I had finished, declined to use
the perch, though ordinarily nothing could keep
him from trying every new thing. I put a bait

196 A KNOWING FELLOW.

upon it in the shape of bits of gum-drops, a
favorite delicacy; but he plainly saw that I
wanted him to go to it, and in the face of the
fact that I had heretofore tried to keep him off
the papers and magazines lying there, he de-
cided that it was suspicious. He flew so as
almost to touch the stick, and hovered before it
to snatch off the candy placed there; but alight
on it he would not, and did not, though I kept
it in place a week.

In many ways this bird was wise; he knew
exactly where to deliver his blows to effect
what he desired. A cage-door being fastened
with fine wire, he never wasted a stroke upon
the door, but gave telling blows directly upon
the wire. <A rubber band was looped about
a rod for him to play with, in the expectation
that he would pull on it and make sport; but he
disappointed us all by hammering at the loop,
until he loosened it and easily pulled it off.
Again it was tied on with strong linen thread;
he turned his whole attention to the knot of the
latter, till it yielded and was disposed of also.

Dear as was this bird, he was a more than
usually troublesome pet. My desk became his
favorite playground, and havoc indeed he made
with the things upon it; snatching and running
off with paper, pen, or any small object, destroy-
ing boxes and injuring books. Finally, in self-

MISCHIEF ON THE DESK. 197

defense, I adopted the plan of laying over it
every morning a woolen cloth, which must be
lifted every time anything was taken from the
desk. This arrangement did not please my
small friend in blue, and he took pains to ex-
press his displeasure in the most emphatic way.
He came down upon the cover, tramped all over
it, and sought small holes in it through which to
thrust his bill. One day he was busily engaged
in hammering a book through an opening, and
to cure him of the trick I slipped my hand
under, caught his beak between two fingers, and
held it a moment. This amazed but did not
alarm the bird; on the contrary, he plainly de-
cided to persevere till he found out the secret.
He pecked the mounds made by my fingers ; he
stooped and looked into the hole, and then
probed again. This time I held him longer,
so that he had to struggle and beat his wings
to get away, and then he walked off indig-
nantly. Still he was not satisfied about that
mystery, and in a moment he was back again,
trying in new ways to penetrate it. I was
tired before he was. He was baffled only
temporarily; he soon learned to draw up the
fabric, hold the slack under one foot while he
pulled it still further, and thus soon reach any-
thing he desired.

The blue-jay always pried into packages by

198 FLYING AWAY WITH THE PHOTOGRAPH.

pecking a hole in the wrapper and examining
the contents through that; and boxes he opened
by delivering upward blows under the edge of
the cover. The waste-basket he nearly emptied
from the outside by dragging papers through
i the openings in the weaving. Seeing two or
: three unmounted photographs put into a book,
he went speedily for that volume, thrust his
beak into the slight opening made by the pic-
tures, and pulled them out, flying at once across
the room with one in his mouth. It was se-
cured and put back, and the book held down
by a heavy weight; but he found the place at
once, and repeated the naughtiness. The book
| had to be completely covered up before the
photographs were safe.

After the blue-jay had put on a new suit
of feathers he flew with great ease, and selected
for a retreat the top of a door into the passage-
way mentioned, which usually stood open. It
was not long before his curiosity was roused to
know what was outside the door that so often
swallowed up his friends, — that into the hall.
He resolved to find out, and to that end, when
stationed on the elevated perch of his choice,
held himself in readiness, upon the exit of any
one, to fly out. He did not wish to get away;
he merely took a turn in the hall, and came
back ; and once, when accidentally left in that

BIRDS NO SOCIETY FOR HIM. 199

unfamiliar place, he stayed in the bath-room,
with window wide open, for half an hour be-
fore he was found. He became so expert in
flying out of the door that it was a difficult
matter to pass through without his company ;
we had to train ourselves in sleight-of-hand
to outwit him. There were two ways of get-
ting the better of him; mere suddenness was of
no use, — he was much quicker than we were.
One way was to go to the room on the other
side of the passage, where he was sure to fol-
low, and before he fairly settled there, to dodge
back and shut the door, —a proceeding so un-
expected that he never learned to allow for
it. The other way was to go to the hall-
door as if intending to open it; instantly the
bird swooped down, ready to slip out also,
but finding the way closed, swept around the
room and alighted somewhere. This was the
second to open the door and step out, for he
always paused a moment before flying again.
The only notice the jay ever took of the >
birds, as said above, was to tease them, or put
them in a flutter ; as society he plainly despised
them. They scon learned to regard him asa
sort of infernal machine, liable at any moment
to explode ; and they were fully justified, for
he was fond of surprising them by unexpectedly
flying around the room, tail spread, feathers

200 FUN WITH A GRASSHOPPER.

rustling, squawking madly in a loud voice. He
usually managed in his career to sweep close
over the head of every bird, of course frighten-
ing them off their perches, and thus to put the
whole room into a panic. They took refuge
anywhere, — under the bed, behind the chairs,
against the wires, and on the floor, — while the
mischief-maker circled around, filling the air
with shrieks, then suddenly dropped to the
round of a chair and calmly dressed his feath-
ers, as if he had merely been exercising his
wings.

Poor little fellow! he was hardly more than
a baby, and not very brave. A big grasshopper
which once got into the room afforded him
great excitement and the spectators much
amusement. He saw it before his cage was
opened, and as soon as he came out he went
after it. The insect hopped up three feet, and
so startled the bird that he jumped almost as
high. When it alighted he picked it up, but
seeming not to know what to do with it, soon
dropped it. Again it hopped, and again the
Jay repeated his bound; and this performance
went on for some minutes, one of the drollest of
sights, — his cautious approach, the spring of
the insect, and his instant copy of the same, as
if in emulation. After being picked up several
times the grasshopper was disabled ; then when

AFRAID OF A TREE. 201

the bird came near, it lifted its wings, plainly
to scare its persecutor ; it did awe him. Mean-
while an orchard oriole had been eagerly look-
ing on, and on one occasion that the grasshopper
was dropped he pounced upon it and carried it
off to a chair, where he proceeded to eat it,
though it was so big as to be almost unmanage-
able. The jay did not like being deprived of
his plaything. He ran after the thief, and
stood on the floor, uttering a low cry while
watching the operation. In the oriole’s moving
the clumsy insect fell to the floor, when the jay
snatched it ; and it was evident that he had got
a new idea about its use, for he carried it under
a chair and demolished it completely, — not
even a wing remained.

More disturbing to the jay, strange as it may
seem, was a tree. It was really touching to see
a bird afraid of this, but the poor youngster had
been taken from the nest toa house. A Christ-
mas tree was brought into the bird-room to
please the residents there, when, to our amaze-
ment, the jay went into a wild fright, flew
madly around near the ceiling, squawking, and
making the other birds think something terri-
ble had happened. He flew till he was breath-
less, and was evidently very much distressed.
For three or four days he was equally alarmed
the moment he caught sight of it in the morn-

202 HIDING THE LEAVES.

ing and whenever I moved it an inch, though
the other birds liked it and were on it half the
time. When he did get used to it he did not
go upon it, but to the standard below, where
he could pick the needle-like leaves and carry
them off to hide about the room.

The blue-jay took his bath in an original way
as he did everything else. First, he stood be-
side the wide, shallow dish, looked at it, then
at me and all around the room, one wing droop-
ing and the other laid jauntily over the back,
while he talked in a low tone, as if he said, * If
anybody is going to object, now is the time.”
No one ventured to dispute his right, and sud-
denly he plumped into the middle, neither
alighting on the edge nor testing the water.
Then there was a lively frolic, with tail spread,
crest raised, wings beating, and the water flying
several feet around. He was a very beautiful

_ bird when in perfect plumage. There were six

distinct shades of blue, besides rich velvety
black, snowy white, delicate dove color, and
blue-gray. He is too well known to need de-
scription, but a jay is not often so closely seen
when alive and in perfection of plumage. ‘This
bird had a charming way of folding his wings
that hid all the plain blue-gray. When held
thus and laid together over the back, there were
displayed first the beautiful tail, with broad

BEAUTIFUL DRESS. 203

white edges to the feathers; above it the wings
looking like a square cut mantle, of the same
colors ; above this a deep pointed shoulder cape,
of rich violet blue, the feathers fluffed up
loosely; and at the top of all, his exquisite
crest.

S
=
:

3 _ For who the pleasure of the spring shall tell, ;
When on the leafless stalk the brown buds swell,

: | ae oe When the grass brightens and the days grow long, a
And little birds break out in rippling song. Bh.
CELIA Tax

XII.
VIRGINIA’S WOOING.

—e—

You must know in the beginning that Vir-
ginia wore feathers. But she had as many tri-
als with her suitors as though she dressed in
silks, and she aples st so much of what we
call ** human nature” that her story is as inter-
esting as that of half the Ethels — Margue-
rites of the romances.

She came of a good old family, the Cardinals,
and, belonging to the Virginia branch, was
called properly Virginia Cardinal, or, in scien-
tific fashion, Cardinalis Virginianus. She was
a beauty, too. It is well known that the cardi-
nal himself has a full suit of the most brilliant
red, but it is not so familiar a fact that the
dames of the tribe are more modest and wear
the family colors simply as linings and in sub-
dued tints: rich rose-colored wing-facings, light
coral-hued beak, delicate pink crest, all toned
down by the soft olive brown of the breast and
back, over which is everywhere a lovely sugges-
tion of red.

208 HER FIRST ADMIRER.

The home of Virginia, when she came to the
bird-room, was a large cage by the window;
that of the cardinal being next to it, equally
commodious, but a little farther from the light.
This personage, her first admirer, made the
mistake that larger suitors sometimes fall into,
with equally disastrous results, — he ‘ took
things for granted.” Between the cages was a
door, but, to try the temper of the birds, it was
at first closed. The cardinal was evidently
pleased with his lovely neighbor; he went as
near to her as he could get, and uttered some
low remarks, to which she listened, but did not
reply. Later, when a meal-worm was given to
him, he did not eat it, but held it in his beak,
hopped over to her side, tried to get through
the wires, and plainly thought of offering it to
her. His disposition appearing so friendly, a
human hand interposed and opened the door.
Instantly he went into her cage, and apparently
thinking better of the intended offering he ate_
it himself, and proceeded to investigate her food-
dishes and try the seed, then hopped back and
forth between the two cages, and at last selected
the perch he preferred and took possession. He
paid no attention to her in the way of recogniz-
ing her ownership, which. he would naturally

do to another bird; he assumed that whatever
belonged to the cardinal family belonged to

|
}

~ « Ome

A MIND OF HER OWN. 209

him; perhaps he even thought she went with
the house, — it certainly looked as though he
did.

But the little dame had a mind of her own.
On his first intrusion she vacated her home
and passed into his. When he appeared in his
cage she quietly hopped back; on his return
she changed cages with equal alacrity; when
he settled himself on her perch, she was quite
contented on his. There was no dispute, no
warfare; she simply said, in manner, “ All
right, my friend, select your abode, and I’ll
take the other. I’m satisfied with either, but I
intend to have it to myself.” After awhile it
seemed to strike his lordship that she avoided
him, and he resolved to settle that matter ; here
making his second mistake, in trying to force
instead of to win. He entered the cage where
she sat quietly, and flew at her. She dodged
him and took refuge in the other apartment ;
he followed; and thus they rushed back and
forth several times, till she stopped for breath
on a lower perch, while he was on an upper
one in the same cage. Then he leaned far
over and fixed his eyes on her, crest raised to
its greatest height, wings held slightly out, and
addressed her in a very low but distinct song,
which resembled the syllables “ cur-dle-e! cur-
dle-e! cr-r-r”’; the latter sounding almost like

210 VIOLENT WOOING.

-acat’s purr. After singing this several times,
and being slighted by her leaving the cage, he
laid his crest flat down, muttered something so
low that it could not be noted, and looked
very much put out. Soon, however, he shook
his feathers violently, flung himself at her, and
she dodged, as before. When both happened
to be for a moment in their own cages, the door
was suddenly closed between, and each had his
own, as at first. Madam was delighted, but
the cardinal resented it; he tried to remove
the obnoxious barrier, pecked at it, shook it,
and could not be reconciled. He grew hungry
and was obliged to eat, but between every two
seeds he returned to struggle with the bars that
kept him from her. Meanwhile Virginia had
apparently forgotten all about him, eating and
making her toilet for the night, as cheerful as
usual.

The next morning, the outside doors of the
two cages were opened, and both birds at once
came out into the room. ‘The cardinal, not yet
over his tiff of the evening before, took wing
- for the trees outside the windows, and brought
up, of course, against the glass. He was
greatly disappointed. He alighted on top of
the lower sash, tested, examined, and tried to
solve the mystery. Virginia, too, tried to go
through the pane, but learned in one lesson that

cS

HE WAS “NOT RECEIVING.” 211

it was useless. She did not care much about
it any way, for she was perfectly contented in-
side. She went around the room, hovering
slowly under the ceiling, which is always of
interest to birds, and then set herself to work
in a most systematic manner to find out all
about the new world she was in. She examined
the outside perches and tried each one; she
explored the bathing table, flirted out a little
water from the dishes, and at last thought it
time to make acquaintance with her neighbors.

She began with the robin, and flew to his
roof. The robin was not pleased, snapped at her,
opened his mouth, uttered a queer low robin-cry,
‘seep,’ and pecked at her feet, while she stood
quietly looking down at the show from above,
as much interested as though it were arranged
to amuse her. At length she began to make
the more formal visit. She dropped to the
door-perch and approached the entrance. The
inhospitable owner met her there, not to wel-
come and invite her in, but to warn her out!
He lowered his head, opened his beak, and
bowed to her, looking very wicked indeed. It
was plain that he was “not receiving” that
morning. But Virginia had come to call, and
call she would. Nothing daunted by his cool-
ness, she hopped in. ‘The robin was amazed ;
then declared war in his peculiar way, — first a

oT? THE ROBIN DECLARES WAR.

hop of six inches, with wings spread, then a
savage clatter of the bill. His guest met this
demonstration quite calmly. She lowered her
head, to defend herself if necessary, but made
no other movement. Her calmness filled the
robin with horror; he fled the cage. Then she
went all over it, and satisfied herself that it
was much like her own, only the food-dish was
filled with some uneatable black stuff, instead
of the vegetarian food she preferred. She soon
departed.

Meanwhile the cardinal was wasting his time
over the window problem, touching the glass
with his beak, flying up a few inches before
it, gently tapping the pane as he went. It was
two or three days before he made up his mind
he could not get through. After that he was
as indifferent to the outside as any bird in the
room, and turned his attention once more to
Virginia. Whenever they were in their cages,
with the door open between, he assumed the
lord-and-mastership of the two; he drove her
away from her own food-cups, usurped her
perch and her cage, and made himself disagree-
able generally. Finally, one day when she was
sitting quietly on the upper perch of his deserted
cage, he came into the same cage, and, resting
on the low perch close to the door, his tail
hanging outside, began a low call, a curious

VIRGINIA GROWS UNEASY. 213

sort of “e-up,’’ with a jerk on the second syl-

lable: Though a common enough sound for a
cardinal, this plainly meant more than was ap-
parent to human spectators. Virginia at once
grew uneasy, hopped across the upper perches,
and when her nervousness became too great
dashed down past him, though he was partly in
the doorway, and into her own cage, where she
resumed her restless jumps. He was not pleased
with her reception of his attentions; he sata
long time in that attitude, perfectly still, per-
haps meditating what step he should take next,
glancing at her meanwhile over his shoulder,
but not stirring a feather. Time passed, and
he came to a decision of some: sort, which was
shown by a change of position. He turned
around, and took his seat on the corresponding
perch in her cage, just before the door. This
impressed Virginia; she stopped her hopping
and looked over at him with an air of wonder-
ing what he would do next. What he did was
to hop one step nearer, to the middle perch.
Upon this she abandoned her place, came to
the floor, and began to eat in the most indiffer-
ent manner; then passed into his cage, then
back to the floor of her own, still eating, while
he sat silent and motionless on the middle
perch, evidently much disturbed by her con-
duct. After an hour of this performance he
retired to her upper perch, and stayed there.

214 JEALOUSY AROUSED.

The same day, the jealousy of the unsuccess-
ful wooer was aroused by a fine, fresh-looking
cardinal whom he saw in the looking-glass. In
flying past it he caught a glimpse of his reflec-
tion, and at once turned, alighted before it, and
began calling vehemently; holding out, and
quivering his wings, and flying up against the
figure again and again in the most savage way.
The next day he began to mope and refused
to come out of the cage; whether because of
illness, or disappointed affections, who shall
say ?

The time of her tormentor’s retirement was
one of great happiness to Virginia. She paid
her usual visit to the robin, and he, as at first,
vacated the cage, this having become the reg-
ular morning programme. Now, too, she went
on to extend her acquaintance by entering the
cage of another neighbor, a scarlet tanager, a
shy, unobtrusive fellow, who asked nothing but —
to be let alone. This bird also did not re-
ciprocate her neighborly sentiments; he met
her with open beak, but finding that did not
awe her, nor prevent her calmly walking in, he
hastily left the cage himself. During the time
that her persecutor was sulking, and not likely
to bother, she had leisure for the bath, which
she enjoyed freely, coming out with her long
breast-feathers hanging in locks and looking

VISITING THE ORIOLES. 215

like a bundle of rags. Her last experimental
call was now made upon another household, the
Baltimore orioles, and there she met with some-
thing new — perfect indifference. Even when
both of the birds were at home they did not
resent her coming in. She went to the upper
perch with them; the cage was big, there was
plenty of room, and they were willing. Their
manners, in fact, were so agreeable that if
their cups had been supplied with seed, I think
she would have taken up her abode with them ;
as it was, she frequently spent half an hour at
atimethere. On this eventful day Virginia be-
gan to sing, for in her family the musical per-
formances are not confined to the males.

After several days of retirement, the cardinal
plucked up spirit to resume his annoyance of
Virginia, and for a few nights a queer sort of
game was played by the two, explain it who
can. If the barrier between the cages was re-
moved after the outside doors were shut for the
night, he at once went to her cage and to the
middle perch. Virginia, on the upper perch,
waited till he reached that spot, then dropped
to the floor, slipped through the door into his
cage, and went to the upper perches there,
where she hopped back and forth, while he
did the same in her cage. Suddenly, after a
few moments, down he came again through the

216 - DEATH OF THE PERSECUTOR.

door to his own middle perch, when instantly,
as before, she retreated into her cage. ‘Thus
they went on an hour at a time; he apparently
following her from one cage to another, and she
declining to occupy the same apartment with
him. Occasionally it was not so calm; he lost
his temper, or grew tired of trying to please ;
once or twice, without warning, he lowered his
head, looked ugly, and fairly burst into her cage
and flung himself at her. She dived under or
bounded over a perch, any way to escape him,
and took refuge in the other cage.

This could not go on long; the cardinal lost
interest in everything, took to moping, and at
last died, — disappointed affection, shall we say,
or what? Virginia was relieved; she sang
more and in a louder tone, hopping around
her cage with a seed in her mouth, flying
through the room, or splashing in the bath; in
fact she was bubbling over with song all the
time, as if she were so happy she could not
keep still. She paid her daily visits to the
cages, forcing the robin to take an outing,
which he did not care to do while moulting
and not very sure of his powers.

Many birds show emotions by raising the
feathers on different parts of the body, but
this bird was remarkable in the expression of
her crest alone. When she peeped into a

ARRIVAL OF A STRANGER. 217

strange cage, and was somewhat uncertain of
her reception, the crest laid flat down, her very
head seemed to shrink; she stepped in at the
door, excited, for it might be peace and it might
be war; the feathers rose and fell alternately ;
if suddenly startled, the crest sprang to its high-
est point; and when singing, or passing peace-
fully about the room, it dropped carelessly back
on her head.

Virginia was allowed a week’s solitary enjoy-
ment of the two cages, and then one day a new
tenant appeared in the cardinal’s quarters. She
was out in the recom when he arrived, but she
instantly came over and alighted on his roof, to
have a look at him. Most expressive was her
manner. She stood in silence and gazed upon
him a long time; all her liveliness and gayety
were gone, and she appeared to be struck dumb
by this new complication of her affairs. It was
plain that she was not pleased. Perhaps her
dislike was evident to the new bird, for sud-
denly he flew up and snapped at her, which
so surprised her that she hopped a foot into
the air. When the time came to open the door
into her cage, the stranger was delighted to go
in, but Virginia dodged him, exactly as she
had done his predecessor. He did not lose
his temper and condescend to the vulgarity of
flying at her, as the first admirer had done.

218 VIRGINIA WAS LONELY.

He looked interested to see that she avoided
him, but after all he did not take it much to
heart. This cardinal, like the other, was not
yet acclimated —if one may call it so —to life
in a house, and after a week he also took his
departure.

Now Virginia, free again, became at once
very gay. She sang all the time; she kept
the robin stirring; she bathed; she waxed fat.
But her time was approaching. Spring came
on, and with the first warm weather the birds
began to disappear from the room. First the
tanager expressed a desire to mingle with so-
ciety once more, and went his way; then the
orloles were sent to carry on their rough woo-
ing in the big world outside; the robin fol-
lowed ; and at last Virginia was left with sey-
eral big empty cages and only two birds, a re-
served and solitude-loving Mexican clarin, and
a saucy goldfinch, so long a captive that he had
no desire for freedom. Now for the first time
Virginia was lonely; the strange quiet of the
once lively room worked upon her temper. She
snapped at her little neighbor; she haunted the
window-sill and gazed out; while nothing hin-
dered her passage excepting the weather, our
climate being rather cool for her.

At last July, with its great heat, arrived, and
the restless bird was carried bya kind friend,

THE THIRD SUITOR. 219

who offered to do this good deed, to a place
in Central Park, New York, where a small
colony of her kind have established them-
selves and build and nest every year. Here
she was set free, and here she met her third
suitor. The place and the season were propi-
tious, and Virginia was ready to look with
favor on a smart young cardinal in the bright-
est of coats, who came in response to her calls
the moment she found herself on a tree, really
out in the world. A little coaxing, a few tender
words, and she flew away with him, and we saw
her no more.

ee

rr eo oe |

{
|

FRIENDSHIP IN FEATHERS.

Why should I cumber myself with regrets that the r

rays fall wide and vain into ungrateful space, and only
ee _ part on the reflecting planet. tee

is not capacious? It never troubles the sun that some of

ee ee ed ev

— = HE —G—E—EEEEE — —orr rms ——E — —

XITI.
FRIENDSHIP IN FEATHERS.

—_+—

EMERSON somewhere speaks of a friendship
“‘on one side, without due correspondence on
the other,” and I often thought of it while
watching the curious relation between two
birds in my house last winter; for the more
one studies our feathered neighbors, the better
he comes to realize that the difference between
their intelligence and that of man himself is
“only of less and more.”

This friendship, then, was all on one side. It
was not a case of * love at sight’; on the con-
trary, it was first war, and the birds had been |
room-mates for months before any unusual
interest was shown; neither was it simple ad-
miration of beauty, for the recipient of the
tenderness was at his worst at the moment;
nor, again, could it be the necessity of loving
somebody, for the devotee had lived in the
house ten years, and had seen forty birds of
almost as many kinds come and go, without

O94 HIS MARRIAGE DRESS.

exhibiting any partiality. The parties to this
curious affair were, first, the beloved, a male
scarlet tanager, whose summer coat was disfig-
ured with patches of the winter dress he was
trying to put on; and secondly, the lover, a
male English goldfinch, scarcely half his size.

The tanager, as perhaps every one knows, is
one of our most brilliant birds, bright scarlet
with black wings and tail. He is as shy as he
is gay, living usually in the woods, and not
taking at all kindly to the enforced companion-
ship of mankind. I had long been anxious to
make the acquaintance of this retiring bird,
partly because I desire to know personally all
American birds, and partly because I wanted
to watch his change of plumage; for the scarlet
uniform is only the marriage dress, and put off
at the end of the season. Hence whenever I
saw a tanager in a New York bird store I
brought it home, though dealers always warned
me that it would not live in confinement. My
first attempts were disastrous, certainly. The
birds refused to become reconciled, even with
all the privileges I gave them, and one after
another died, I believe for no other reason than
their longing for freedom. Let me say here
that feeling thus, they would have received
their liberty, much as I wished to study them,
only their plumage was not in condition to fly,

THE TANAGER ASTONISHED. 225

and they would go out to certain death. My
hope was to make them contented through the
winter, while they put on a new suit of feath-
ers, and open the doors for them in summer.

The subject of this tale, and the last of the
series, I procured of a dealer who has learned
to keep tanagers in good condition, and I never
had trouble with this bird’s health or spirits.
It was not until May that he wished to leave
me. When he joined the circle in the room he
had just thoroughly learned that a cage was a
place he could not get out of, and he had ceased
to try. The first morning when his neighbors
came out of their cages he was as much aston-
ished as if he had never seen birds out of a
bird store. He stretched up and looked at
them with the greatest interest. When one
or two began to splash in the large shallow
bathing dishes on the table, he was much
excited, and plainly desired to join them. [
opened his door and placed in it a long perch —
leading to freedom. For some time he did not
come out, and when he did, the sudden liberty
drove out of his head all thoughts of a_ bath.
When he flew, he aimed straight for the trees
outside the window, and of course came vio-
lently against the glass.

This experience all house birds have to go
through, and it is sometimes several days before

226 THE PROBLEM OF THE GLASS.

they learn the nature of glass. The tanager
learned his lesson more quickly. He fell to the
floor at first, from the shock, but in a few
moments recovered himself and returned, this
time alighting on the top of the lower sash and
proceeding to examine the strange substance
through which he could see, but could not go.
He gently tapped the glass with his beak the
whole length of the window, passing back and
forth several times till satisfied. Turning at
last from that, he cast his eye around for an-
other exit, and settled on the white ceiling as
the most likely place. Then he flew all about
the room close to the ceiling, touched it now
and then with his beak, and finding it also im-
passable, he came down to the window again.
He had not the least curiosity about the room,
and was not at all afraid of me. The world
outside the windows and his cage when he was
hungry, were all that he cared for at presen
— except the bath.

The goldfinch was bathing the second time
he came out, and he went directly to the table
and perched on the side of the dish. Now the
one thing the little fellow most delighted in was —
his morning bath, and he at once resented the
intrusion of the stranger. He flew at him with
open beak and lifted wings, scolding vigorously,
in fact gave him so hostile a reception that he

GIVING UP THE WORLD. 227

quickly retired to the top of a cage, where he
stood a long time. Afterward also, the gold-
finch showed so strong a determination that
the intruder should not enjoy his beloved bath,
that at last I had to keep him in his cage while
the new-comer had a chance at the water.

This did not go on long, however, for very
soon the tanager deliberately gave up the
world of the bird-room, and insisted on remain-
ing in his cage. In vain was his door set open
with the others, in vain did the birds splash
and splatter the water, he would not come out,
though he did not mope or lose his appetite.
In truth, it seemed merely as if he scorned the
advantages offered; if he could not go out free
into the trees, he would as lief stay in his cage
—and he did. This is a not uncommon habit
of cage birds. They often need to be driven
or coaxed out. Having once learned that the
cage is home with all its comforts and conven-
iences, they prefer to be there.

The tanager was always a very shy bird; he
did not like to be looked at. If he could man-
age it, he would never eat while any one saw
him. Often, when I put a bit of apple or a
meal-worm in his cage, he stood and looked at
it and at me, but did not move till I turned
away, or walked out of his sight, when he
instantly pounced upon it as if starved. To

228 EATING BEHIND A SCREEN.

make him altogether happy I put a screen
around one corner of his cage, behind which
were his dishes, and after that it was very droll
to see him crouch behind that and eat, every
moment or two stretching up to glance over the
top and see if I had moved. If I stirred as
though about to leave my chair, he at once
whisked to the upper perch as if he had been
caught in a crime.

The first I noticed of the goldfinch’s friendli-
ness to him was after he had lived with us five
or six months.

This small bird, in a room of larger ones,
was somewhat driven about. I do not mean
hurt, but if any one wanted a certain perch he
did not hesitate to take it, even if it were
aiready occupied by so little a fellow. He soon
learned that near the tanager he was not often
molested, and he began first to frequent the
perch that ran out of the cage —the doorstep
in fact. Finding that he was not disturbed, he
soon moved his quarters just inside the door.
Most birds quickly resent the intrusion of an-
other into their cage, but the tanager never did.
So long as he was left alone on his favorite
upper perches, he did not care who went in
below. This being the case, after a while the
goldfinch ventured upon the middle perch.
Still he was not noticed ; but presuming on the

BECOMING THE PROTECTOR. 229

friendly attitude of his host, he one day hopped
upon the perch beside him. This was a step
too far; the house-owner turned an open beak
toward him, and in unmistakable tones told
him to leave — which he at once did, of course.

This boundary made by the tanager was
never changed, but in the rest of the cage the
goldfinch made himself at home, and at once
assumed the position of protector. Seeing that
the owner did not,—and sure it was some-
body’s duty,—he began to guard the door,
warning away any one who wished to enter,
with harsh scolding, fluttering of wings, and
swelling up of his little body, amusing to see.
The boldest bird in the room was awed by
these demonstrations coming from the inside as
though the cage were his own. The tanager
looked on all this with some interest, but ex-
pressed no more gratitude at being protected
than he had resentment at being driven from
the bath.

Soon I noticed a certain chattering talk from
the small bird that he had never indulged in
excepting to another of his kind — his compan-
ion when he first came to me. It was very low
but almost continuous, and was plainly ad-
dressed to the tanager. As his friendliness
progressed, he found the lower perch too far
from his charmer, and not being allowed to sit

230 AN UNCOMFORTABLE PERCH.

beside him he took to clinging upon the outside
of the cage as near to the tanager’s usual seat
as he could get. ‘The only perching place he
had there was a band of tin that held the wires
steady, but in spite of what must have been
the discomfort of the position, there he hung by
the hour, talking, calling, and looking at his
idol within. He left the spot only to eat and
bathe, and I think if the cage had been sup-
plied with seed he would never have gone at
all. When the bird inside hopped to the perch
at the other end of the cage, which was the
extent of his wanderings, the finch at once fol-
lowed on the outside, always placing himself as
near as possible. It was really touching, to all
but the object of it, who took it in the most
indifferent way. When the tanager went down
to eat, his escort accompanied him as far as
the door perch, where he stood and looked on
earnestly, ready to return to his old place the
moment the luncheon was finished. :

On the rare occasions that the self-elected
hermit went out, the goldfinch displayed great
concern, evidently preferring to have his favor-
ite at home where he could defend him. He
flew uneasily across from the cage to his side,
then back, as if to show him the way. He also
desired to watch the empty house, to preserve
it from intrusion, but was constantly divided

TOUCHING AFFECTION. 231

between his duties of special porter, and body-
guard. But he did his best, even then; he fol-
lowed the wanderer. If the tanager went toa
perch the goldfinch at once alighted on the same,
about a foot away, and sidled up as near as he
was allowed. He was free to come within about
three inches, but nearer he was driven off, so
the little fellow placed himself at this distance
and there stayed patiently as long as his friend
remained. If the latter had been more respon-
sive, I believe the goldfinch would have nestled
up against him.

The tanagersometimes strayed into a strange
cage, and then the anxious guard followed to
the steps and even within, talking earnestly,
and no doubt pointing out the danger, yet if
the owner unexpectedly appeared he met him
at the threshold and fiercely defended the door
against the proprietor himself. Occasionally
the erratic recluse went to the floor —a place
never visited by his little attendant, whose
trouble was almost painful to see. He at once
placed himself on the lowest perch, stretched
out and looked over, following every movement
with his eyes, in silence, as though the danger
was too great to allow conversation, and when
his charge returned to a perch, he uttered a loud
and joyous call as though some peril had been

escaped.

2a2 A SAUCY BRAZILIAN.

The stanch little friend had many chances to
show his loyalty. The other birds in the room
were not slow to take advantage of one who
never defended himself. In particular a Bra-
zilian cardinal, a bold saucy fellow with a scar-
let pointed crest and a loud voice, evidently con-
sidered the tanager cage common ground, open
to everybody, until the goldfinch undertook its
defense. It was amusing to see the small bird
stand just inside, and rage, puff himself out,
wave his wings, and fairly drive away the foe.
So impertinent was the Brazilian that the finch
declared general war upon him, and actually
chased his big antagonist around the room and
away from his favorite perches, hovering over
his head, and flying around it in small circles,
trying to peck it, till he flew away defeated,
probably because he was too much amazed to
think of resisting.

This was not, however, the worst enemy he
had to deal with. Next door to the tanager
lived a robin, a big, rollicking, fun-loving fel-
low who considered such a retiring personage
fair game. His pleasure was to see that the
tanager went out every day, and he made it his
business to enforce the regulation he had set up.
His tactics were to jump upon the roof of the
cage, coming down violently just over the head
of the tanager, who, of course, hopped quickly

AN UNEQUAL CONTEST. oS0

to the other perch. Then the robin began a
mad war-dance across the cage, wings held up,
tail spread, bill clattering, and altogether look-
ing as full of mischief as any bad boy one ever
saw, while the tanager went wild below, flying
in a panic back and forth, but not for some
time thinking of leaving the cage. The in-
stant this performance began, the little cham-
pion was upon him; he alighted at one end of
the short tramping ground on the cage, and
met his big foe with open beak and every sign
of war. The robin simply lowered his head
and went for him, and the little bird had_-to fly.
He pluckily returned at once to the other end
and faced him again.

Observing that the goldfinch alone was not
able to keep the robin away, I provided the
cage with a roof of paper, which is usually a per-
fect protection, since birds dislike therustle. It
did not dismay this naughty fellow, however ;
on the contrary, it gave an added zest because >
of that very quality. He pranced across it in
glee, making a great noise, and when the vio-
lence of his movements pushed it aside, he
peered down on the tanager, who stood pant-
ing. The sight pleased him, and he resumed
his pranks; he lifted the handle of the cage
and let it drop with a clatter; he jerked off
bits of paper and dropped them into the cage,

234 REASSURING THE TANAGER.

and in every way showed a very mischievous
spirit. Meanwhile, all through the confusion
the goldfinch scolded furiously, flying around to
get a peck at him, and in every way challenging
him to fight. Occasionally, when he became too
troublesome, the robin turned and snapped his
beak at him, but did not choose to leave the
bigger game.

When at last he tired of his fant or was
driven away, the goldfinch flew to the side of
the cage where the frightened tanager had
taken refuge, though there was not even a strip
of tin to hold on, uttered his loud cheerful call
several times, plainly congratulating and re-
assuring him, and telling him all was safe; and
here he clung with difficulty to the upright
wires, all the time slipping down, till the tan-
ager went to the upper regions again. Every
time the robin so much as flew past, the tireless
little fellow rushed out at him, scolding. When
finally the robin went into his own cage, and the
tanager returned to his usual place, the gold-
finch at once assumed his uncomfortable perch
and sang a loud sweet song, wriggling his body
from side to side, and expressing triumph and
delight in a remarkable way.

The approach of spring made a change in
the tanager. He had not so completely given
up the world as it appeared. He began to

OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS. 2985

chirp, to call, and at last to sing. He was
still so shy he went down behind his screen
to sing, but sing he must and did. Now, too,
he began to resent the attentions of his ad-
mirer, occasionally giving the poor little toes
a nip, as they clung to the tin band near his
seat. He also went out now, and turned an
open beak upon his friend. From simply en-
during him, he suddenly began offensive opera-
tions against him. Poor little lover! an un-
grateful peck did not drive him away, but sim-
ply made him move a little farther off, and
stopped his gentle twittering talk a while. But
the tanager grew more and more belligerent.
He came out every day, took soaking baths, and
returned to his examination of the windows,
for the trees were green outside, and plainly he
longed to be on them. He stood and looked
out, and called, and held his wings up level
with his back, fluttering them gently.

All this time the devotion of the little one
never changed, though it was so badly received.
When the tanager turned savagely and gave his
faithful friend a severe peck, instead of re-
senting it the hurt bird flew to another perch,
where he stood a long time, uttering occasion-
ally a low, plaintive call, as if of reproach, all
his cheerfulness gone, a melancholy sight in-
deed. I waited only for warm days to set free

236 AWAY HE GOES.

the tanager, and at last they came. Early in
June the bird was put into a traveling cage,
carried into the country, where a lovely bit of
woods and a pretty lake insured a good living,
and the absence of sparrows made it safe for a
bird that had been caged. Then the door was
- opened, and he instantly flew out of sight.

The bird left at home seemed a little lost
for a few days, moped about, often visited the
empty cage, but in a short time entirely aban-
doned it, and evidently looked no more for his
friend. But he is changed too: not quite so
gay as before; not so much singing; and nota
word of the soft chattering talk we heard so
constantly while his beloved friend was here.

LJ My: =
’

THE ROSY SHIELD.

Soft falls his chant as on the nest
Beneath the sunny zone,

For love that stirred it in his breast
Has not aweary grown,

And ’neath the city’s shade can keep

The well of music clear and deep.

And love that keeps the music, fills
With pastorial memories.
All echoing from out the hills,
All droppings from the skies,
All flowings from the wave and wind
Remembered in the chant I find.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

XIV.
THE ROSY SHIELD.

——p}

ONE of the most winning inhabitants of my
bird-room last winter bore on his snow-white
breast a pointed shield of beautiful rose-color,
and the same rich hue lined his wings. With
these exceptions his dress was of sober black
and white, though so attractively disposed that
he was an extremely pretty bird —the rose-
breasted grosbeak.

Nor was beauty his only attraction; he was a
peculiar character, in every way different from
his neighbors. He was dignified, yet his dig-
nity was not like that of a thrush; he was
calm and cool, yet not after the manner of an —
orchard oriole. He possessed a lovely gentle-
ness of disposition, and a repose of manner un-
paralleled among my birds. Vulgar restless-
ness was unknown to him; flying about for
mere exercise, or hopping from perch to perch
to pass away time, he scorned. ‘The frivolous
way common to smaller birds of going for each

240 HE CHOSE A CORNER.

seed as they want it, was beneath him. When
he wished to eat he did so like a civiliged
being, that is, took his stand by the seed-cup,
and stayed there, attending strictly to the busi-
ness in hand till he had finished, leaving a neat
pile of canary-seed shells in one spot, instead of
the general litter common to cages. The meal
over, he was ready to go out of the cage, place
himself comfortably in one of his favorite cor-
ners, and remain for a long time, amused with
the life in the room and the doings in the
street, on both of which he seemed to look
with the eye of a philosopher. In the same
deliberate and characteristic way he disposed
of a meal-worm, or a bit of beef, which he
enjoyed. He never bolted it outright like a
thrush, nor beat it to death like a tanager, nor
held it under one toe and took it in mouthfuls
like an oriole: he quietly worked it back and
forth between his mandibles till reduced to a
pulp, and then swallowed it.

The rosy shield-bearer was preéminently a
creature of habit. Very early in his life with
us he selected certain resting places for his pri-
vate use, and all the months of his stay he never
changed them. The one preferred above all
others was the middle bar of the window-sash,
in the corner, and I noticed that his choice was
always a corner. In this sunny spot he spent

a

A BIRD OF OPINION. 241

most of the time, closely pressed against the
window-casing, generally looking out at the
trees and the sparrow-life upon them, and re-
garding every passer-by in the street, not in an
unhappy way, but apparently considering the
whole a panorama for hisentertainment. When
events in the room interested him, his post of ob-
servation was a bracket that held a small cage,
where he often sat an hour at a time in perfect
silence, looking at everybody, concerned about
everything, his rosy shield and white breast ef-
fectively set off by the dark paper behind him.

Although thus immobile and silent, the gros-
beak was far from being stupid. He had de-
cided opinions and tastes as well defined as any-
body’s. For example, when he came to me his
cage stood on a shelf next to that occupied by
two orchard orioles, and he was never pleased
with the position. He was hardly restless even
there, while suffering what he plainly consid-
ered a grievance, but he was uneasy. I saw
that something was wrong, and guessed at once
that it was because his upper perch was three
inches lower than that in the next cage, and to
have a neighbor higher than himself is always
an offense toa bird. As soon as I raised his
cage he was satisfied on that score, and no
more disturbed me in the early morning by
shuffling about on his perch and trying to fly
upward.

242 CONTENTED AND HAPPY.

But still things were not quite to his mind,
and he showed it by constantly going into the
cage of the orioles and settling himself evidently
with the desire of taking up his residence there.
He was so gentle and unobtrusive everywhere,
that no one resented his presence in the cage,
and he could have lived in peace with almost
any bird. But I wanted him contented at
home, and moreover, I was curious to find out
what was amiss, so I tried the experiment of re-
moving his cage from its position next to the
lively orioles, and hanging it alone between two
windows, where, although not so light, it had
the advantage of solitude. The change com-
pleted the happiness of the grosbeak. From
that day he no more intruded upon others, but
went and came freely and joyously to his own
cage, and from being hard to catch at night he
became one of the most easy, proceeding the
moment he entered his home toward dark to the
upper perch to wait for me to close the door be-
fore going to his seed-dish. In fact, he grew so
contented that he cared little to come out, and
often sat in his favorite corner of the cage by
the hour, with the door wide open and the
other birds flying around. Now, too, he began
to sing in a sweet voice a very low and tender
minor strain.

Among his other peculiarities this bird

DISTURBED BY AN OWL. 243

scarcely ever seemed to feel the need of utter-
ance of any sort. On the rare occasions. of
any excitement he delivered a sharp, metallic
“click ’”’; a sudden alarm, like the attack of
another bird, called out a war-cry loud and
shrill, and very odd; and in the contest over
the important question of precedence at the
bath he sometimes uttered a droll squeal or
whining sound. Besides these, he made singu-
lar noises in bathing and dressing his feathers,
which are not uncommon among birds, but are
difficult to describe. They always remind me
of the rubbing of machinery in need of oil.
This beautiful bird was not easily frightened ;
the only time I ever saw him seriously disturbed
was at the sight of a stuffed screech-owl, which
I brought into the room without thinking of its
probable effect. I placed it on a shelf in a
closet, and I soon noticed that the moment the
closet door was opened the grosbeak became
greatly agitated; he darted across the room to
a certain retreat where he always hurried on
the first alarm of any sort, and remained in re-
tirement till the fancied danger was over, while
the others flew madly about. In this place he
stood posturing in much excitement, and utter-
ing at short intervals his sharp “click.” For
some time I did not understand his conduct,
nor think of connecting it with the owl on the

244 THE LOOKING-GLABSS.

shelf ; but when it did occur to me I tried the
experiment of bringing it out into the room,
when I immediately saw, what I should have
remembered at once, that it was an object of
terror to all the birds.

The song of the rose-breasted grosbeak is
celebrated, and I hoped my bird would become
acquainted with us, and let out his voice; but
I was disappointed in both respects, for he ~
never became familiar in the least, and though
not at all afraid he was very shy; and further-
more, upon my bringing into the room two
small musical thrushes, the grosbeak — feeling,
as I said, no need of utterance —readily re-
lapsed into silence, and all the winter never
sang a note. His conduct before the looking-
glass indicated that he was not naturally so si-
lent, and that he could be social with one who
understood his language. Being unable to get
another grosbeak, I tried to give him compan-
ionship by placing a small glass against one end
of his cage. On seeing his reflection the bird
was greatly agitated, began his low, whining
cry, postured, bowed, turned, moved back and
forth, and at last left the cage and looked for
the stranger behind the glass. Not finding him
he returned, had another interview with the
misleading image, and ended as before in seek- —
ing him outside. At length he seemed to be

CURIOUS POSTURES. 245

convinced that there was something not quite
natural about it, for, feeling hungry, he went,
with many a backward glance at the glass, to
the floor, took a hemp-seed and carried it out
into the room to eat, a thing he never did at
any other time.

I spoke of my bird’s posturing; that was one
of his pleasures, and almost his only exercise
while he lived in the house. He was not grace-
ful, his body was not flexible, and his tail was
far from being the expressive member it is
with many birds, it always stood straight out ;
he could raise it with a little jerk, and he had
a beautiful way of opening it like a fan, but I
never saw it droop or stir in any other way. In
these movements his head and tail maintained
the same relative position to the body, as though
they were cut out of one piece of wood; but
he bowed and leaned far over on one side, with
his short legs wide spread; he passed down a
perch, alternately crouching and rising, either
sideways or straight; he jerked his whole body
one side and then the other, in a manner ludi-
crously suggestive of a wriggle; he sidled along
his perch, holding his wings slightly out and
quivering, then slowly raised them both straight
up, and instantly dropped them, or held them
half open, fluttering and rustling his feathers.

He had also a curious way of moving over a

246 THRUST OUT HIS TONGUE.

long perch: he proceeded by sidewise hops, and
at each hop he turned half round, that is, the
first step he faced the window, the next the
room, the third the window again, and so on to
the end, coming down at every jump as though
he weighed a pound or two. He was much ad-
dicted to sitting with breast-feathers puffed out
covering his toes, or sometimes with wings held
a little way from his body, showing the delicate
rose-colored lining, as though conscious how
pretty he looked; and among other eccentric
habits he often thrust out his tongue, first one
side and then the other, apparently to clean his
bill.

Bathing and getting dry was conducted by
this peculiar bird in a manner characteristic of
himself. Slow to make the plunge, he was
equally deliberate in coming out of the bath.
When fairly in, he first thrust his head under,
then sat up in the drollest way, head quite out
of water and tail lying flat on the bottom, while
he spattered vigorously with wings and tail.
When he stepped out, the bath was over; he
never returned for a second dip, but passed at
once to a favorite corner of the window-bar, and
stood there a most disconsolate-looking object,
shivering with cold, with plumage completely
disheveled, but making not the least effort to
dry his feathers for several minutes. If the sun

BIRDS AT DUSK. 247

shone, he indulged himself in a sunning, erecting
the feathers of his chin till he looked as if he
wore a black muffler, opening his tail like a fan,
spreading and crossing his wings over the back.
This attitude made a complete change in his
looks, showing white where black should be,
and vice versa. This was the result of his pe-
culiar coloring. Next the skin all feathers were
the common slate-color, but outside of that each
feather was black and white. On the back the
black was at the tip, and the white between
that and the slate-color; on the breast this order
was reversed, and the white at the tip. Thus
when wet the white and black were confused,
and he resembled an object in _ patch-work.
The rose-colored shield was formed by the
slightest possible tips of that color on the white
ends, and it was wonderful that they should ar-
range themselves in an unbroken figure, with a
sharply defined outline, for each feather must
have lain in its exact place to secure the result.

The different ways in which birds greet ad-
vancing night has long been a subject of inter-
est to me, some restless and nervous, others
calm, and a few wild and apparently frightened.
In no one thing is there more individuality of
action, and in my room that winter were exhib-
ited every evening quite a variety of methods.
A brown thrush or thrasher on the approach

See

248 SLEPT AND DREAMED.

of darkness became exceedingly restless, flying
about his cage, going over and under and
around his perches, posturing in extraordinary
ways, uttering at every moment a strange,
harsh-breathing sound. Two smaller thrushes
met the evening hour by fluttering, and a queer
sort of dance elsewhere described. Two orchard
orioles saluted the twilight by gymnastics on
the roof of the cage. The bluebirds made care-
ful and deliberate arrangements for a comforta-
ble night, while the grosbeak differed from all
in simply fluffing himself out, and settling him-
self, on the first hint of dark, in the chosen cor-
ner, whence he scarcely moved, and as soon as
objects grew indistinct he laid his head quietly
in its feather pillow and stirred no more. The
brightest gaslight an hour later did not disturb
him ; if a noise wakened him, he simply looked
up to see what was the matter, but did not
move, and soon turned back to his rest, when
slight jerks of his wings, and faint complain-
ing sounds, told that he not only slept, but
dreamed. |

The bearer of the rosy shield was a persistent
individual ; having once taken a notion into his
head, nothing would make him forget it or
change his mind. Fully settled in his prefer-
ence for a certain perch on the window, the
coldest day in winter, with the wind blowing a

DIGNIFIED AND PERSISTENT. 249

gale through the crack between the sashes,
would not make him desert it. Driving him
away from the spot had not the slightest effect
on him, he returned the moment he was left in
peace. Thinking that another cage was more
convenient for his use, nothing short of absolute
shutting the door would keep him out of it.
Nor did he forget about it either; if the door
was accidentally left open, after being closed
for weeks, he entered as quickly as though he
had been in every day.

This bird never showed any playfulness of
disposition ; indeed, he had too much dignity to
do so. He never flew around the room as
though he liked to use his wings, although they
were perfect, and there was nothing to prevent
if he chose. Nor did he display curiosity about
his surroundings. The only things he appeared
to notice were the doings of the birds and peo-
ple in the room, and the moving panorama
without, which latter he always viewed with
equanimity, although the sound of a hand-organ
aroused him to a sort of mild fury.

As spring advanced, the beautiful grosbeak
grew tuneful and often added his exquisite song
to the rippling music of the small thrushes, and
— with a little stretch of the imagination as to
its duration —

“ Trilled from out his carmine breast,
His happy breast, the livelong day.”

THE BIRD OF MYSTERY.

For me there is a mystery unrevealed ;
Sweet Nature, speak to me! :

XV.
THE BIRD OF MYSTERY.

on eel

It is well that Nature has so carefully guarded
the lives of her most beautiful birds, for it is
a sad fact that, in the words of an eminent
writer, ‘‘the winged order —the loftiest, the
tenderest, the most sympathetic with man — is
that which man nowadays pursues most cruelly.”
Had they been as accessible as sparrows, even
although they equaled them in numbers, not
one would by this time be alive on earth.

The family whose extraordinary dress and
mystery of origin justify its name — Birds of
Paradise —is securely hidden in distant islands
not friendly to bird-hunting races. Inacces-
sible mountains and pathless forests repel the
traveler; impassable ravines bar his advance;
sickness and death le in wait for the white
man, while the native lurks with poisoned dart
behind every bush.

The first of the race that came to us were
heralded by myth and invested with marvels:

2.54 MARVELOUS STORIES.

they had no feet; they slept upon the wing;
they fed upon dew, and hatched their eggs
upon their backs. Such were the tales that
accompanied the skins, magnificent beyond any-
thing known to the world in the glory of plu-
mage, and they were named Birds of Paradise.
But science is supposed in these days to con-
quer all mysteries, and science armed itself
with powder and shot, game bags, provision
trains, and servants, and set out for the far-
away inhospitable islands, the home of this,
the most attractive of all. Science has solved
many problems: the “ Heart of Africa” has
become a highway; the Polar sea and the
source of the Nile are no longer unknown;
but with her most persistent efforts during
three hundred years she has not yet been
able to give us the life history of this one
feathered family. Many of her devotees have
penetrated to its home and brought back fresh
varieties; money, health, and life have been
freely spent; but, save for a few strange
and curious facts, we know little more of the
manner of life of the Birds of Paradise than
we did when we depended on the native le-
gends. How some of them look we know;
we have their skins wired into shape in our
museums and gorgeously pictured in our books ;
but every traveler finds new kinds, and how

DANCING PARTIES. 255

many sorts there may be which have so far
eluded the few and short visits of naturalists,
no one is able totell. Even of those we have,
how scanty is our knowledge! What they eat
we are told; how they bathe and dress their
plumage; their loud calls and unmusical voices ;
the shyness of those whose conspicuous beauty
sets a price upon their heads, and their “ danc-
ing parties,” so graphically described by Wal-
lace; but of their nesting we are in profound
ignorance. Where the gravely dressed part-
ners of the brilliant creatures set up the hearth-
stone none can tell, unless it be the mop-headed
Papuan, and he will not.

The colors lavished on the plumage would
alone make the Birds of Paradise the wonder
of the world; exquisite tints not surpassed by
the humming-birds themselves, and of almost
infinite variety, from the richest velvety purple
to the gorgeous metallic greens, blues, and yel-
lows, changing with every motion, and glitter-
ing in the sun like gems. But the marvelous
freaks in the arrangement of the plumage are
more specially interesting. So extraordinary
a variety of forms, so unique and fantastic in
disposal, are without parallel in the animal
world. Some species are adorned with long,
drooping tufts of plumes light as air, as the
Red Bird of Paradise, and others bear strange-

256 ECCENTRICITY IN FEATHERS.

shaped, movable shields; part of the family
wear ruffs, and others display fans on shoulders
or breast; a few sport extravagant length of
tail, and one or two show bright-hued wattles ;
one species is bare-headed, and —other vaga-
ries being exhausted —two have curls. The
greater number have an unusual development
of two or more feathers into long, wire-like ob-
jects, with a patch of web at the ends. In one
species these wires are formed into two perfect
circles beyond the end of the tail; in another
they cross each other in a graceful double curve,
and in a third stand straight and stiff from the
end of the feathers. The Sexpennis, or Golden
Bird of Paradise, has on the head six of these
shafts, which it erects at pleasure, produc-
ing a singular appearance; and the Standard
Wing has two on each wing, equally effec-
tive. Perhaps the most peculiar fact about
the family is the power each bird possesses
to change its form by means of these eccen-
tric ornaments. All are erectile and movable
in several ways, and a bird that is at one mo-
ment like our common crow in shape, may
in the next show a dazzling array of waving
plumes or vibrating fans, and be utterly un-
recognizable for the same creature. It is evi-
dent to all bird students that feathers are as
surely an “index of the mind” as are tails

A PAPUAN HOUSE. 257

in cat and dog, and the manners and expres-
sion of this family would be a study of. ab-
sorbing interest.

Not to mention the birds already familiar
in books, there are a few interesting pecu-
liarities of some of the late discoveries, and
the possible varieties are by no means ex-
hausted, so that each new traveler who pene-
trates into their chosen home will doubtless
have opportunity to see his own name Latin-
ized into dignity and bestowed upon some bril-
liant and hitherto unknown bird, having a new
disposition of plumage, or a color more beau-
tiful —if conceivable —than any before. One
of the most attractive of the recent additions
to the list was made by Signor D’Albertis,
and named for him Drepanoris Albertist. In
a letter to a Sydney newspaper he tells the
story of the discovery, which occurred while he
was living in a Papuan mansion built upon
the trunks of trees, and reached by means of
a long ladder. From this unique residence
he made excursions into the mountains, and,
among other things, had the good fortune to
see two curious episodes in the life of the Six-
shafted Bird of Paradise. He found this bird
— which is not new to science —to be a noisy
and solitary fellow, roaming the thick woods
alone, dining upon figs and other fruits, and

258 DUSTING ITSELF.

indulging in the strange habit of ‘ dusting”
itself like a city sparrow. Happily he saw the
whole operation. Selecting a suitable spot, the
beautiful bird first cleared away. the grass and
leaves, and while the eager observer was won-
dering what all this preparation portended, sud-
denly flung itself to the ground, and rolled its
rich plumage in the dust, fluttered the wings,
elevated and depressed the six plumes on its
head, and otherwise appeared to enjoy itself
extremely. At another time the traveler wit-
nessed a second uncommon scene in the deep
interior of the forest. A bird of the same
species alighted upon the ground, and after
peering in every direction, either to make
sure of being unobserved, or to discover an
enemy or a friend, began a most singular
performance, waving the six long plumes of
the head, raising and lowering a small tuft of
silvery white feathers over its beak, elevating
a glittering crest on its neck, and spreading
and drawing back the long feathers on its sides,
every movement entirely changing its apparent
shape. Ina short time it began to jump from
side to side and to assume an attitude of war,
and all the time it never ceased uttering an un-
common note, as though calling for admiration
or for a fight.

Not long after this curious exhibition fol-

A NEW BIRD. 959

lowed the observer’s great prize, the Drepano-
ris -Albertisi, which is so rare that even to
many of the natives it was a surprise. At
the first glance this bird does not appear to
deserve a place in the remarkable family. It is
about the size of our common crow, brown
on the back, and lavender-gray below, with a
curved bill more than three inches long. But
closer study reveals several peculiarities : a bare
space of bright blue around the eye, brilliant
green on the throat, and a pair of feathery
tufts standing up on the forehead like horns,
with the crowning attraction of two pairs of
fans, one behind the other on each side of the
breast, capable of being folded smoothly against
the body, or spread wide in two gorgeous
semicircles altering the entire outlines of the
creature. The first of the two admirable or-
naments, when in repose, appears of the same
violet-gray hue as the breast; but when raised
the bases of the feathers are seen to be of a
brilliant red, giving the effect of longitudinal
stripes. The second pair is much longer, with
deep margins of splendid purple instead of the
stripes. When the possessor of all this splen-
dor spreads its four fans, it also erects the long
tail and opens it widely into a fifth fan, which
produces an astonishing effect.

Another of D’Albertis’s contributions to the

260 DANGER OF BEAUTY.

mysterious family is among its most magnifi-
cent members, the Paradisea Raggiana. A
fine specimen of this genus, mounted in the
position described by Wallace as the “ dancing ”
attitude of P. Apoda, the floating plumes ele-
vated in a “golden glory” above the head, is
the gem of the collection in the American
Museum of New York. It resembles the Great
Bird of Paradise, having long, airy plumes
springing from under each wing. In general
color golden brown, with yellow head and green
throat. To this bird, as to others, beauty is a
dangerous possession ; and, as if feeling aware
of the fact, it lives in the tops of tall trees, in
the deepest forest, among the most inaccessible
ravines. But wary though it be, one charac-
teristic lures it to destruction —curiosity. A
European hunter in his unfamiliar dress is an
irresistible attraction; nearer and nearer it
comes, hopping from branch to branch, pausing
at every step to observe and study the intruder,
with neck stretched and wings flapping, every
moment uttering a peculiar cry, no doubt equiy-
alent to “ Come and look!” for it brings others
upon the scene, till the pretty sight is rudely
ended by a shot and a death-wound. The cry
of distress brings the friends nearer, only to
fall victims in their turn to the same murder-
ous gun. Our traveler once surprised a female

A BARE-HEADED BIRD. 261

of this species, and a droll proceeding followed.
After flying several times around his head to
see what sort of a creature he might be, she
alighted on a vine, and turning heels over head,
remained hanging head down, sharply scruti-
nizing his appearance from this point of view
till he — shot her.

A bare-headed bird would not seem to pre-
sent any attraction to the lover of beauty,
though it might be of scientific interest ; but
Nature, not having exhausted her resources
upon the Birds of Paradise already mentioned,
has even accomplished the feat of making a
bald-headed beauty. The bare skin on the
whole crown is of a brilliant blue color most
oddly crossed by narrow rows of minute feath-
ers, which irresistibly remind one of the sutures
of the human skull. That color shall not be
lacking, it bears, besides the blue of the head,
black, straw color, bright red, and green; and
is further adorned with two very long central
tail feathers, which reach far beyond the rest
of the tail, and return, making a complete cir-
cle ; a rare and lovely ornament. A good spec-
imen is among the later arrivals at the Ameri-
can Museum.

The Manucodia are the curly Birds of Para-
dise, and our knowledge of one of the latest
and most novel of them is owing not to the

262 - CURLY-HEADED BIRDS.

indefatigable naturalists who have braved the
dangers and discomfort of their wild island
home, neither to the English Wallace, the
Dutch Von Rosenburg, the Italian Beccari, nor
to D’Albertis, nor Bruiju, nor De Myer, whose
names will be forever associated with the splen-
did family, but to a British = of scientific
tastes.

M. Comru is the largest, and has more curls
than any other yet discovered, for they not
only decorate the top of the head, but extend
down the neck, and form ridges over the eyes.
Even the tail partakes of the general curve,
which makes it boat-shaped, and — most fan-
tastic of all — the two middle feathers are
nearly an inch shorter than their next neigh-
bors, and turned over at the ends so as to dis-
play the different color of their inner surface,
and form what ladies call “ revers.”

‘Such eccentricities are really not to be
accounted for, as we cannot conceive they can
be for any useful purpose”’ (!), gravely says
science in the person of an English authority.
_ This severely disapproved of plumage is blue
with green lights on back and head, and black
edged on every feather, with purple on the
breast.

Another species of the curly family, the
Blue-green Paradise Bird (MZ. Chalybea), has

A CHANGEABLE BIRD. 263

been known to us for a hundred years, but its
habits are as much a mystery as its curls. It
is exquisite in color, of the richest purple,
glossy as satin, with neck of deep green, and
all crinkled and curled over head and neck.

The Long-tailed Bird of Paradise is the proud
possessor of twenty-two names, from which it
were hard to make a selection. It is one of
the largest, being twenty-two inches in length,
most of which, however, is tail, and is splendid
in soft velvet-like black with hints of green and
blue and purple. On each side it carries a fan
of curved feathers, and the plumes of the flanks
are of the lightest and most delicate texture.
Words cannot describe the grace and elegance
of this bird, and the perfect specimen in the
museum above mentioned is worthy of a pil-
grimage to see.

A “changeable” Bird of Paradise is the one
remaining eccentricity conceivable to complete
the variety in coloring, and this is found in the
Epimachus Eilioti,a bird so rare that at the
time Gould published his first work the speci-
men in his collection was unique, and natural-
ists in their excursions in the Papuan Islands
have vainly tried to discover its home and learn
its habits. The whole incomparable plumage
is of rich changeable hues; in ordinary light,
when perfectly motionless, the bird appears of

264 ECCENTRIC IN HABITS.

a soft black, but on moving about the color
varies from violet to maroon, from this to deep
amethyst, and then to green, purple, and blue.
A most extraordinary effect is produced when
it faces the spectator with fan-plumes expanded,
reaching so far above its head that they look
like a pair of arms thrown up.

The most interesting though not the most
beautiful of the family is the Gardener bird,
discovered a few years ago by the Italian natu-
ralist Beccari. Here is a Bird of Paradise
eccentric not in dress but in habits. His plu-
mage is modest brown in several shades, so in-
conspicuous that the partner of his joys can
wear the same tints, which she does. The bird
is the size of a turtle-dove. Let the doctor
himself tell the story of the discovery while
walking through the beautiful forest, so thick
that scarcely a ray of sunshine penetrated the
branches. He says:

ue 3 suddenly stood before the most remie
ble specimen of the industry of an animal. It
was a hut or bower close to a small meadow
enameled with flowers. The whole was on a
diminutive scale, and I immediately recognized
the famous nests described by the hunters of
Bruiju. After well observing the whole I gave
strict orders to my hunters not to destroy the
little building. That, however, was an unne-

A CLEVER BUILDER. 265

cessary caution, since the Papuans take great
care never to disturb these nests or bowers,
even if they are in their way. The birds had
evidently enjoyed the greatest quiet until we
happened, unfortunately for them, to come near
them. I had now full employment in the pre-
paration of my treasure. . . . I took colors and
brushes, and went to the spot, and made the
sketch which I now publish. When I was there
neither host nor hostess was at home... . I
could not ascertain whether this bower was oc-
cupied by one pair or more, whether the male
alone is the builder, or whether the wife as-
sists. I believe, however, that the nest lasts
several seasons.”

The pleasing description of the house and
lawn, with its many decorations, has been
widely copied. ‘ Being mostly near the en-
trance,’ says the grave scientist in conclusion,
surprised into sentiment, “it would appear that
the husband offers there the daily gift to the |
wife, removing the objects to the back of the
hut as they fade or wither.” It is clever not
only in building a house and lawn, but in imi-
tating the songs and cries of other birds, and
doing it so well, according to our author, that
it brought “his hunters to despair.”

So few Birds of Paradise have entered the
scientific world alive, and so little is known

266 EXQUISITE TOILET.

of their manners, that the meagre accounts we
have possess unusual interest. So long ago as
early in the century Mr. Bennett, in his visit
to Macao, wrote a statement of the ways of a
Great Bird of Paradise (P. Apoda) which had
been at that time in confinement nine years.
His description of the toilet of the most exqui- —
site of birds is delightful. |

‘‘Tt washes itself regularly twice daily, and
after having performed its ablutions, throws its
delicate feathers up nearly over the head... .
The beautiful subalar plumage is then thrown
out and cleaned from any spot that may sully
its purity by being passed gently through the
bill, the short chocolate-colored wings are ex-
tended to the utmost, and he keeps them in a
steady flapping motion, at the same time rais-
ing up the delicate long feathers over the back,
which are spread in a chaste and elegant man-
ner, floating like films in the ambient air. In
this position the bird would remain for a short
time, seemingly proud of its heavenly beauty.
I never yet beheld a soil on its feathers. After
expanding the wings it would bring them to-
gether so as to conceal the head, then bending
gracefully it would inspect the state of its
plumage underneath. ... It then picks and
cleans its plumage in every part within reach,
and throwing out the elegant and delicate tuft

THE DANCE. 267

of feathers underneath, they are cleaned in
succession, if required, by throwing them abroad,
elevating and passing them in succession through
the bill. Then turning its back to the specta-
tors, the actions above mentioned are repeated,

. and throwing its feathers up with much
grace, appears as proud as a lady dressed in her
full ball dress” ¢(!). After further account of
its taking grasshoppers from visitors, he con-
cludes: ‘Should any of the insects fall to the
floor of his cage he will not descend to them,
appearing to be fearful that in so doing he
should soil his delicate plumage.”

Almost equally charming is Mr. Bennett’s
observation of one that Wallace carried alive to
London, which lived two years there and be-
came exceedingly tame. It is this species whose
dancing parties Wallace thus describes: —

**Qn one of these trees a dozen or twenty
full-plumaged male birds assemble, raise their
wings vertically over the back, stretch out their
necks, and raise and expand their exquisite long
plumes till they form two magnificent golden
fans, which are kept in continual vibration.
Between whiles they fly across from branch to
branch in great excitement, so that the whole
tree is filled with waving plumes in every vari-
ety of attitude and motion. In the position
above mentioned the whole bird is overshad-

268 DESERVES ITS NAME.

owed by his plumage, the crouching body, yel-
low head, and emerald green throat form but
the foundation and setting to the golden glory
which waves above. Seen in this attitude the
Bird of Paradise really deserves its name, and
must be ranked as one of the most beautiful
and most wonderful of living things.”

_ In truth, it is so transcendently beautiful that
hunters have been astonished into forgetfulness
of their guns, and no triumph was ever greater,
for to recognize an attractive creature and lift
the gun to take its life seems to be a single
operation of many who carry the murderous
weapon.

The Twelve-wired, one of the better known
varieties of the Birds of Paradise, is usually fig-
ured, and probably always mounted, with its
exquisite plumes closely folded against its sides,
but the French naturalist and traveler Le Vail-
lant, in his large work published early in the
century, gives a representation of it under the
name of Le Nebuleux, with feathers expanded
to the uttermost, a truly magnificent display.
All his figures, though sometimes incorrect,
owing to the scanty knowledge of the time, have
a great deal of life. Each bird is presented
both in repose, with plumage all folded smooth-
ly back, and in excitement, with every fan and
ruff and erectile ornament fully spread.

A SUGGESTION. 269

This peerless family takes kindly to captiv-
ity,as has been amply proved by their enduring
the voyage and living two years in the unfavor-
able climate of England, as well as by spend-
ing at least nine years in an aviary in China,
and there is no reason why we in America
should not have opportunity to admire them
and study their habits from life. Would that
some of our young explorers could be induced
to turn from the ice-fields of the Poles, and the
death-swamps of the Tropics, to seek these in-
imitable birds in the mountains and woods of
the Papuan Islands — not to shoot for our mu-
seum shelves, but to study their manners and
customs, and above all to introduce them into
American aviaries, that a new and absorbing
chapter might be added to our Natural Histo-
ries, and the Bird of Paradise cease to be the
Bird of Mystery.

: INDEX.

EE.

ae! Parrot and Mocking-Bird,

Baltimore Oriole.
pursue a blackbird, 4.
baby ways, 9.
attacked by robin, 10.
an unnatural baby, 11.
one at a time, 11.
the father as drudge, 12.
visited by the Cardinal, 215.
Bird of Paradise, 253.
where found, 253.
mythical stories of, 253.
dancing parties, 255
colors, 255. " ee
arrangement of plumage, ;
Red Bird of, 255.
Golden, 256.
Standard-wing, 256.
change of form, 256.
feathers an index of the mind,
256.
interesting new discoveries, 257.
Signor d’Albertis, 257
Six-shafted, 257.
dusting itself, 258.
curious scene, 258.
a rare bird, 259.
description of, 259.
another new one, 259.
imen in N. Y. Museum, 260.
escription of P. Raggiana, 260.
danger of beauty, 260.
a bare-headed bird, 261.
Manucodia, 2
M. yon tes 262.
M. Chalybea, 262.
Long- tailed, 263.
changeable, 263.
Epimachus Ellioti, 263.
the Gardener bird, 264.
description of nest, 264.
a clever builder, 265.
manners of P. Apoda, 266.

——_-+-—

toilet, 266.

dancing parties, 267.

twelve-wired, 268.

Le Vaillant’s work, 268.
Birds.

home affairs of, 3.

dangers in nest, 5.

hard work of, 15.

training the young, 15.

study of, 16.

cruel pursuit of, 239.

at twilight, 247.
Bluebird, 97.

attitude and manners, 97.

re and manners, female,

defending her spouse, 98.
standing guard, 98
defending the young, 99.
after the mocking-bird, 99.
unsafe nest, 99.

tragedy in the family, 100.
consoling his mate, 100.

an affectionate pair, 101.
motherly affection, 102.
arrangements for sleep, 102.
queer little talk with me, 103.
talk together, 104-106.
staring at nothing, 104.

his mate disapproves, 106.
difference in intelligence, 107.
demanding meal-~worms, 107.
expressing themselves, 107.
learning by experience, 108.
fond of worms, 108

trick ona scarlet tanager, 108.
bathing, 109.

bewitching dance, 109.
sunning himself, 109.
feathering out, 110.

growing belligerent, 110.
courtship, 110.

he presents a worm, 110.
refusing to share, 111.
feeding through wires, 112.

i
i

212

change in the song, 112.

set free, 112

attacked by sparrows, 112.
baby ways, 13.

bringing food to young, 47.

Blue Jay, 175.

driving corks, 175.
hammering, 175.
destructiveness, 176.
holes in the matting, 176.
ornamenting books, 177.
pounding upward, 177.

hiding things, 177.

his regular business, 178.

clearing up the room, 178.

setting off matches, 179.

odd hiding-places, 179.

in my hair, 180.

intelligent interest, 180.

likes and dislikes, 180-191.

showing fight, 181.

war upon the baby, 181.

expression of affection, 181.

curiosity, 182.

jumping, 183.

queer way of alighting, 183.

bird of opinions, 183.

scolding the rain, 184.

strange noises, 184.

song, 184.

stamping his feet, 184.

in anger, 184.

peaceful among the birds, 185.

timid, 185.

afraid of falling, 185.

a jay-baby cry, 185.

fond of music, 186.

attended to business, 187.

talking to me, 187.

his demon of work, 187.

in his vindication, 187.

knew what he wanted, 191.

human society, 191.

tokens of affection, 192.

love, 193

ice-cream and cake, 193.

hiding his candy, 193.

next in favor, 193.

difference in treatment, 193.

curious dance, 194.

missed his frolics, 194.

calling his playmate, 194.

treatment of a young lady, 195.

treatment of a youth, 195.

treatment of the head of the
household, 195.

treatment of a maid, 195.

afraid of a trap, 195.

a wise bird, 196.

cutting a wire, 196.

INDEX.

loosening a rubber band, 196.

a troublesome pet, 196.

on my desk, 196.

a cure for hammering, 196.

ae to get under the cover,
if<

prying into packages, 197.

the waste basket, 198.

after the photographs, 198.

on the door, 198.

flying out, 198.

the open window, 199.

learning to outwit him, 199.

the other birds no society, 199.

surprising his neighbors, 199.

the room in a panic, 200.

ear ea over a grasshopper,

the oriole takes a hand, 200.

afraid of a tree, 200.

hiding the needles, 202.

bathing, 202.

beauty of plumage, 202.

Brazilian Cardinal, 232.
a Grosbeak, or Virginia C.,
7

colors, 207.

her first admirer, 208.

his first call, 208.

a mind of her own, 209.
his mistake, 209.
reproaching her, 209.
violent wooing, 210.

the obnoxious door, 210.
the window, 210.
exploring the room, 211.
calling on the robin, 211-214.
war declared upon her, 211
the window problem, 212.
lord-and-master, 212.
curious performance, 212.
hostilities, 213.

jealousy, 214.

the looking-glass, 214. _
calling on the tanager, 214.
the bath, 214.

calling on the orioles, 215.
beginning to sing, 215.

a queer game, 215.

war again, 216.

death of the persecutor, 216.
Virginia relieved, 216.
expression of crest, 216.

a week’s peace, 217.
arrival of a stranger, 217.
Virginia not pleased, 217.
the second suitor goes, 218.
left alone, 218.

set free, 219.

INDEX.

the successful wooer, 219.

difficulty, studies under, 25, 26,

27, 29, 30.

Golden - winged Woodpecker,

Flicker, 115.

in search of a nest, 115.

heavy flight, 116.

out of a bird store, 117.

excessively wild, 117.

getting acquainted, 117.

peeping out, 118.

expressing emotion, 118.

in despair, 118.

holes in the wall, 118.

learning to eat, 118.

peculiar attitudes, 119.

sleeping, 119.

restlessness, 119.

taking naps, 120.

a heavy sleeper, 120.

dreaming, 120.

hanging himself, 121.

or

expression of sentiments, 121.

the door opened, 121.
running about the floor, 121.
intelligence, 121.

exploring the room, 121.
investigating the nails, 122.
visiting his neighbors, 122.
up the ladder, 122.

teasing the goldfinch, 123,
down the ladder, 123.

stepping down backward, 123.

going home, 124.

asking to be let out, 124.
suddenly familiar, 124.
childlike disposition, 124.
a silent bird, 124.

a strange song, 125.

an extraordinary display, 125.

the baby of the family, 126.
position of rest, 127.
flicker talk, 127.

Goldfinch, 72, 152, 157.

Mocking-Bird.
baby ways, 13.
study of, 23.
way of singing, 25-44,
fables about, 30-31.
nest, 35.
domestic relations, 36.
home in a pine grove, 37.
wooing, 38.
dance, 39.
love or war? 41.
house hunting, 41.
building in a storm, 42.
on the winding stairs, 43.

273

belligerent, 44.

a call on his spouse, 45.
frolic on the grass, 45.

nest in the cedar, 45.

the youngsters out, 46.
feeding the babies, 46.

the baby cry, 47.
parental anxiety, 48, 50, 55.
madam remonstrates, 48,
telling the news, 49.

_ out of the nest, 50.

looks and manners of the in-
fant, 50, 51, 53.

a lively youngster, 52.

an ignominious flop, 53.

baby number two, 53.

refuses to move on, 53.

thieves — black and white, 54.

behavior of a young singer, 54.

had his own way, 55.

number three neglected, 55.

the cry-baby, 56.

peculiar hops, 56.

a curious performance, 57.

the nest, 57.

movements, 58, 59.

lifting the wings, 60.

disposition, 60.

quarrel, 61.

attack on a crow, 61.

song, 62, 63.

as imitator, 63.

Mocking-Bird in the house.

mocking, 67.

intelligence, 67.

taking notes, 68.

choice of colors, 68.

enjoyment of liberty, 69.

reason, 69.

warmed by a lamp, 69.

quiet observation, 70.

submitting to imposition, 70.

out of the cage, 70.

studying surroundings, 71.

the pin-cushion, 71.

looking-glass, 71.

settling his position, 72.

the English goldfinch, 72.

driven away from the bath, 73.

the feathers flew, 74. .

scene between goldfinch and,
74.

insulted by a thrush, 75.

dispute over the bath, 75.

worrying the Mexican, 77.

with the wood thrush, 78.

quarrel over the apple, 78.

a war dance, 79.

settling the thrush, 80.

end of the apple contest, 81.

274 INDEX.

decides to remove, 81. Pewee, baby ways, 15.
teasing the thrush, 83. learning to hover, 16.
graceful attack, 83. Plover, 24.
a change of tactics, 84. Purple Crow Blackbird.
a determined enemy, 85. in trouble, 4.
gracefulness, 85. launching the infants, 5.
bewitching ways, 86. blackbird babies, 7.
expression of feathers, 86.
the looking-glass, 87. Rose-breasted Grosbeak, 239.
manner of dressing, 89. dress ; characters, 239.
lifting the wings, 89. manner of eating, 240.
steel pen, 89. about the room, 240.
attack on the parrot, 90. a creature of habit, 240.
never startled, 91. intelligence, 241.
caught under a shawl, 91. had his own opinion, 241.
mad frolics, 92. change of place, 242.
fury of play, 92. contented and happy, 242.
reducing the finch to silence, 93. a silent bird, 243.
mischief, not malice, 93. queer noises, 243.
Mexican thrush, 77, 83. disturbed by an owl, 243.
song, 244-249.
Nonpareil, 28. the looking-glass, 244.
Nuthatch baby ways, 12. posturing, 245.
visited by orioles, 138. curious movements, 246. .
bathing, 246.
Orchard Orioles, 131. color, 247.
characteristics, 131, 132. night, 248.
persistent singers, 131. never playful, 249.
making themselves conspicuous, | Robin baby ways, 14, 47.
132. Robin called in by Cardinal, 211-214.
annoying ways, 132.
shouting the news, 133. Scarlet Tanager and English Gold-
trouble in the family, 133. finch, 224.
plumage, 133, 134. dress and manners, 224.
two suitors to one maid, 134. parties to the friendship, 224.
he will have his way, 134. dislike to confinement, 224.
she flew for her life, 134. coming out, 225.
voice of female, 135. the window glass, 226.
beauty of female, 135. the finch flies at him, 226.
restless manners, 135. giving up the world, 227.
a war dance, 136. dislike to be looked at, 227.
an anti-climax, 137. first sign of friendship, 228.
a meek damsel, 137. the smallest bird, 228.
inquisitive, 138. progress of the friendship, 228.
visiting the mocking - bird’s the tanager’s boundary, 229.
nest, 138. becoming protector, 229.
visiting nuthatches, 138. beginning to talk, 229.
interested in me, 139. perching outside, 230.
the crisis, 139. around the room, 231.
nesting time begun, 139. in a strange cage, 231.
matters settled, 140. on the floor, 231.
the honeymoon, 140. driving the Brazilian, 232.
submitting to the inevitable, the robin interferes, 232.
140. the finch goes for him, 233.
nest building, 140. a new roof, 233.
precipitate wooing, 141. the mischicvous robin, 234.
grumbling husbands, 141. approach of spring, 234.
a feathered thief, 142. offensive operations, 235.
the end was not yet, 142. anxious to go, 235.

with a grasshopper, 201. belligerent, 235.

INDEX. 275

set free, 236. watching others, 157.
the deserted lover, 236. in the spring, 157.
called on by cardinal, 214. Thrushes.
Snowy Heron, 23. gray-cheeked, 161.
song of, 162.
Tern, 24. Wilson’s, 162.
Thrasher, or Brown Thrush, 147. wonderful song, 162. .

——— a

i)

restlessness, 147.

use of feet, 148.

erratic movements, 149.
way of approach, 149.
sensational manners, 150.
bathing, 150.

waltzing around the bath, 150.

excitement of the bath, 151.
mischievousness, 152.
teasing the finch, 152.
tearing paper, 152.

with a newspaper, 153.
the magazines, 153.
hammering, 153.
jumping, 153.
intelligence, 154.
talking back, 154.
expression of wings, 154.
littleness of body, 155.
the song, 155.

in the twilight, 156, 247.
strange movements, 156.

whisper songs, 162.

difference in character, 163.

bewitching dance, 163.

use of feet, 164.

excitement, 165.

a different dance, 165.

bathing, 165, 166.

the bird in the glass, 166.

alighting places, 167.

enjoying a swing, 167.

a snug retreat, 167.

tearing papers, 168.

lonely disposition, 169.

belligerent, 169.

set free, 169.

surprise of freedom, 170.

a call from a neighbor, 170.

cent a to the Gray-cheeked,
171.

Thrush baby ways, 8, 78, 80, 85.
Yellow-throated baby ways, 8.

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