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 Library 
 
 at Sapsucker Woods 
 
 Illustration of Bank Swallow hy Louis Agassii Fuertes 
 
LABORATORY OF ORNITHOLOGTiJ 
 CORNELL UNIVERSITX 
 ITHACA, NEW YORK ' 
 
 .'iii; 
 
The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022532208 
 
^p mm erNm^ fHiutv. 
 
 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS. 
 With a colored frontispiece and illustrations by Louis 
 Agassiz Fuertes. izmo, $i.oo, ne*. Postage extra. 
 
 THE FIRST BOOK OF BIRDS. With many Illustra- 
 tions, including 8 full-page colored Plates, Square 
 i2mo, Ji.oo ; also School Edition^ 60 cents, net. 
 
 THE SECOND BOOK OF BIRDS: Bird Families. 
 Illustrated with 24 full-page pictures, eight of which 
 are in color, after drawings by Louis Agassiz Fu- 
 ertes. Square ramo, $r.oo, net. Postpaid, ji. 10. 
 
 UPON THE TREE-TOPS. With 10 Illustrations by 
 J. Carter Beard. i6mo, J1.25, 
 
 A BIRD-LOVER IN THE WEST. x6mo,$i.2S, 
 
 LITTLE BROTHERS OF THE AIR. i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 BIRD-WAYS. i6mo, $1.25; also in Riverside School 
 Library, i6mo, half leather, 60 cents, net. 
 
 IN NESTING TIME. j6mo, $1.25. 
 
 FOUR-HANDED FOLK. Illustrated. i6mo, $1.25; 
 also in Riverside Library for Young People, i6mo, 
 75 cents. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, 
 Boston, New York, and Chicago. 
 
TRUE BIED STORIES FROM MY 
 NOTE-BOOKS 
 
CHEWINK 
 
TRUE BIRD STORIES 
 FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 BT 
 
 OLIVE THORNE MILLER 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BT LOUIS AGASSIZ FUEETES 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLESr AND COMPANY 
 
 i$f)Z Slibet^iiie pte0, Cambtibge 
 
 1903 
 
/n^7 T 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1903 BY H. M. MILLER AND HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published April^ igos 
 
PREFACE 
 
 All the stories in this book are strictly true. 
 Nearly all of them are my own observation, part 
 of them studies of captives in my own Bird 
 Room, and the rest of birds in the field. 
 
 A few of the incidents have already been 
 
 related in my " grown-up " books and in various 
 
 publications, but most of them are now published 
 
 for the first time. 
 
 OLIVE THORNE MILLER. 
 
 Brooklyn, N. Y., 1903. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 IN THE BIRD ROOM 
 
 The Bird Room .... 
 
 The Goldfinches .... 
 
 The Goldpinch's Fright 
 
 The Bird that would not be Free 
 
 The Bttst Blue Jay 
 
 The Droll Tanager 
 
 The Goldfinch's Devotion 
 
 A Madcap Thrush 
 
 The Babt Robin . 
 
 The Goldfinch's Fun 
 
 The Comical Chewink . 
 
 Polly's Pranks . 
 
 Polly's Outing 
 
 The Golden Goose 
 
 The Saucy Oriole 
 
 Antics in the Bird Room 
 
 Blizzard .... 
 
 3 
 6 
 9 
 12 
 15 
 22 
 26 
 30 
 37 
 45 
 52 
 59 
 66 
 73 
 80 
 86 
 . 88 
 
 Three Sparrows that live in a House . . 97 
 
 Doctor Dot 102 
 
 BIRDS OUT OF DOORS 
 
 My First Bird 
 
 The Thrushes who lived in the City 
 Barn Swallows in a Frolic .... 
 How THE Dog interfered .... 
 Upper and Lower Story in the Bird World 
 The Lost Baby 
 
 Ill 
 115 
 118 
 123 
 126 
 129 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 How THE Crow Baby was punished . . . 133 
 
 A Jat's Table Manners 135 
 
 Friendly Wild Robins 138 
 
 The Droll Mockingbird 142 
 
 A Sociable Baby Dove 148 
 
 The Ducklings who would not give dp . . . 151 
 
 Birds and Dolls 154 
 
LIST OE ILLUSTEATIONS 
 
 Page 
 
 Chbwink (colored) Frontispiece 
 
 bujebird 12 
 
 Blttb Jat 18 
 
 Baby Robin 42 
 
 Baltimoke Oriole 82 
 
 Cardinal 86 
 
 English Sparrow 98 
 
 Whip-poob-will 112 
 
 Wood Thrush 116 
 
IN THE BIRD ROOM 
 
TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE- 
 BOOKS 
 
 THE BIKD EOOM 
 
 When I began to be Interested in birds, I 
 lived in a city where not many beside English 
 sparrows were to be seen. I wanted to know 
 something about our common birds ; moreover, 
 I never looked into a bird store without longing 
 to set every poor Uttle captive free. 
 
 So I set up a Bird Room. Every fall, for 
 several years, I went around to the bird stores 
 in New York and Brooklyn, and bought all the 
 stray American birds I could find. The dealers 
 did not make a business of keeping our common 
 birds, and now it is against the law to do so. 
 They usually kept only such birds as canaries, 
 parrots, and other regular cage birds ; but occa- 
 sionally they would have a robin or bluebird or 
 oriole tucked ofE in a corner, and these birds 
 were the ones I bought. In one store I would 
 find a catbird moping on a high shelf, or in a 
 
4 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 dark back room; in another a bluebird scared 
 half to death, and dumb in the midst of squawk- 
 ing parrots and singing canaries. 
 
 In this way I collected in my Bird Room eight 
 or ten — usually — of our native birds, and al- 
 ways in pairs when I could get them. I put 
 each one in a big cage, and left the doors open 
 all day; so that they had the freedom of a large 
 room with three big windows and plenty of 
 perches all about. 
 
 Then I gave almost the whole of my time to 
 taking care of them, and studying their ways 
 through the winter, and as soon as spring came, 
 and birds began to come back from the south, I 
 took my little captives, — those who were able 
 to fly, and I thought could take care of them- 
 selves, — carried them out into the country or a 
 big park, and set them free. Then the next faU 
 I found a new set for my Bird Room, to be liber- 
 ated again as soon as it was safe. 
 
 I took such good care of the birds, gave them 
 so many things they liked, made them so com- 
 fortable, and let them have such good easy lives, 
 that almost every one was happy, and perfectly 
 contented to stay with me through the winter, 
 when times are sometimes hard for them out of 
 doors. Then, when they began to get uneasy in 
 the spring, I let them go — as I said. 
 
THE BIRD ROOM 5 
 
 I have explained thus carefully ahout my Bird 
 Room because I do not approve of keeping wild 
 birds in cages, and I never had one caught or 
 caged for me, not even for study. Every one I 
 ever kept was set free as soon as it was safe for 
 him. 
 
 It is no kindness to set a canary free, nor a 
 bird that is injured, or has been kept for years, 
 and so is unfitted to take care of himself. Cana- 
 ries are born in cages, of caged parents. They 
 have been taken care of for generations, and 
 have no knowledge how to get food or find shel- 
 ter. Turning one out into the world is about 
 like turning a two-year-old baby out to get its 
 own living. 
 
 The only way to mitigate the hard lot of a 
 canary is to make him so happy that he will not 
 wish to be free. I could tell you many stories 
 of canaries who had escaped, coming back and 
 beating against a window to get into the only 
 home they knew. 
 
THE GOLDFINCHES 
 
 The way my Bird Room began was this : a 
 friend gave me a pair of English goldfinches. 
 They were httle fellows, not so large as a canary, 
 and brightly dressed, having red and yellow as 
 weU as brown and white in their plumage. 
 
 I bought a big cage for them, and named them 
 Chip and Chipee, but I found they were not 
 happy together. Chipee seemed to be afraid the 
 good things would not last; so when she had 
 eaten all she could, she would quietly sit down in 
 the seed dish, so that Chip could n't get any. 
 
 Then Chip, on his side, did not approve of 
 her antics. She was fond of climbing all over 
 the wires of the cage and hanging head down 
 like a parrot. Chip appeared to think this im- 
 proper, for he would rush at her and twitch one 
 of her feathers. Then she would scold at him. 
 
 Sometimes Chipee did not want to hear Chip 
 sing, and one day there was a droll scene in the 
 cage. They had both had their bath and their 
 breakfast, and Chip settled himseK on his favor- 
 ite perch and began to sing. 
 
THE GOLDFINCHES 7 
 
 I noticed that Chipee, who was on the same 
 perch, moved a little away from him, and puffed 
 out her feathers as if she were going to sleep. 
 Chip noticed it too, and seemed to take it as a 
 sKght to his music, for he moved a little nearer 
 to her, fixed his eyes on her, and hegan again. 
 
 She did not stir, and looked sound asleep. 
 Then Chip became furious. He ruffled up his 
 feathers, glared at her, and went up and jerked 
 one of her feathers. 
 
 That roused her. She turned her head to- 
 ward him and opened her mouth at him. Among 
 birds this seems to be what " making a face " is 
 among children. Chip did n't hke it anyway, for 
 he dropped to the floor. 
 
 In a moment he came back to the perch and 
 began again. He sang a note or two, and then 
 paused. Chipee gave one note which sounded 
 like " Whit ! " Chip went on a note or two 
 more and stopped again. She said " Whit " 
 again, a httle louder. 
 
 Three or four times they did this, and then, as 
 Chip did not stop, she suddenly flew at him with 
 a harsh scold exactly as i£ she said, " Will you 
 stop that noise ! " 
 
 Chip was surprised and stopped for an instant, 
 but quickly made up his mind that he would 
 sing if he chose. He came close to her, stretched 
 
8 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 up till his head was far above hers, and sang as 
 loud as he could, fairly shrieking, and holding 
 out his wings ready to fight any minute, while 
 Chipee scolded at the top of her voice aU the 
 time. 
 
 Of course I could not let them live together 
 if they were not happy. So I bought a new 
 cage, a small square gilt one, and moved Chip 
 into it. Then both were happy. 
 
 Chip soon grew very tame, answering me with 
 a cheery little note or two whenever I spoke to 
 him. In his pretty gilt cage he hved ten or 
 twelve years, most of the time in the midst of 
 bigger cages and bigger birds, always cheerful 
 and happy, and interested in every new bird who 
 came to live with us. , And he died peacefully 
 of old age at last. 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S FRIGHT 
 
 Soon after Chipee was settled in the cage by 
 herself, she had a serious fright and fainted 
 away. 
 
 It happened in this way. I had gone to bed 
 and the room was dark, when I heard a little 
 squeak that sounded like a mouse. I jumped up 
 and lighted the gas. There was Chip safe, but 
 uneasy, evidently frightened and disturbed. I 
 turned to Chipee and found her aU in a heap in 
 one corner of the cage. 
 
 While I looked she repeated the squeak I 
 had heard. I ran with the cage to the light, 
 and saw that she had pushed herself halfway 
 through the wires, and could not get out or in. 
 I pried the wires apart and she flew out. 
 
 Wildly and blindly she dashed around the 
 room, hitting the furniture and bumping against 
 the wall, while I had to stay by the gas to keep 
 her from flying into that. 
 
 At last she fell and I hurried to pick her up. 
 She fluttered a moment, and then her head 
 dropped, and she lay limp and apparently dead 
 
10 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 in my hand. I looked at her by the gas and 
 thought she was certainly dead, and I put her 
 on the bottom of her cage, expecting to bury 
 her in the morning. 
 
 I had heard that birds sometimes faint as 
 people do ; so I laid her caref uUy on her breast 
 and left her, turned out the gas, and went back 
 to bed. In a few minutes I heard a little flut- 
 ter, and then the rattle of a perch. I quickly 
 lighted the gas again, and there stood Chipee as 
 pert as ever. 
 
 The next morning I made a search to see 
 what had startled her, and found that half her 
 seed was eaten and the shells left in the cup, as 
 she never left them. What creature except a 
 bird would eat canary seed ? I could not guess, 
 but I resolved to watch — that is, listen. 
 
 That night I did so, and discovered that the 
 thief was a mouse. He would run up the wire- 
 gauze window screen and into the cage between 
 the wires. I hung the cage in another place 
 and set a trap for him with cheese, but this 
 was a mouse with ideas ; he scorned cheese, and 
 insisted on birdseed. And the worst of it was, 
 that he always managed to get to that cage, or to 
 keep me awake all night with the noise he made 
 trymg. 
 
 At last I thought of a plan for the thief. I put 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S FRIGHT 11 
 
 Chipee into Chip's cage with him, which pleased 
 her and made Chip very indignant. When I 
 had seen them both settled for the night, two 
 little feather balls at opposite ends of the high- 
 est perch, I arranged to receive the mouse. I 
 took away the seed cups from the empty cage 
 and placed instead a round trap, Uke a rat trap, 
 with birdseed inside. 
 
 This was too much for the mouse. About 
 eleven o'clock I heard a scramble and a rattle of 
 wire, and I jumped up and found my mouse a 
 prisoner. That day Chipee returned to her own 
 cage, and had no more visits from mice. 
 
 Chipee was a nervous little thing, however, and 
 not very happy among bigger birds, so I gave 
 her away to a friend who had no other birds, 
 and there she became very tame and lived a long 
 time. 
 
THE BIRD THAT WOULD NOT BE FEEE 
 
 Most people think that the best thing one 
 can do for a caged bird is to set him at liberty. 
 Almost always this is true ; but there are cases, 
 as I have said, in which the bird is happier to 
 live in a house and be cared for. 
 
 If a bird is hurt and cannot fly well, he is 
 better ofE where food and shelter are always pro- 
 vided. Also, if he was taken when very young, 
 before he had been taught to care for himself, 
 he would find it hard to provide for his own 
 comfort. The case of canaries I have already 
 spoken of. 
 
 But I want to tell you about a wild bluebird, 
 who knew enough to appreciate the comforts of 
 a home. 
 
 The bird was found in a store in a very bad 
 condition, having been caught in a trap and 
 beaten herself against the wires till her wing 
 feathers were broken so that she could not fly. 
 She was put into the cage of another bluebird, 
 who had been so injured that he could never 
 
BLUEBIRD 
 
THE BIRD THAT WOULD NOT BE FREE 13 
 
 The stranger showed herself to be rather ill- 
 mannered. She grabbed the best of everything, 
 and drove the owner of the cage about as if it 
 were hers and not his. In fact, she was so greedy 
 that the mistress thought he would be very glad 
 when she had gone. So as soon as she had 
 moulted and had come out with new plumage and 
 perfect wing feathers, the cage door was opened 
 and away flew Madame Blue and disappeared. 
 
 Then the bird who was left began to call to 
 her. All day he called, till the mistress was 
 very sorry for him, but there was no sign that 
 the runaway heard. 
 
 The next day, twenty-four hours after she 
 had been set free, one of the family found her 
 back, and trying with all her might to squeeze 
 into the cage between the wires, while her old 
 cage mate was greatly excited, calling in the 
 sweetest voice, welcoming her, and encouraging 
 her to come in. 
 
 The cage door was opened for her and she 
 flew right in, plainly delighted to get home. 
 Then came the most lively chatting between the 
 two. One could not help feeling that she was 
 telling how uncomfortable she found it having 
 to hunt up food and water, and how much nicer 
 it was to have a whole family of people to wait 
 on and care for one. 
 
14 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MT NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 She ate and drank, and appeared as if she 
 could not get enough, and was evidently per- 
 fectly happy. Open doors were no temptation 
 to her. 
 
 Mind ! I do not say that all caged birds are 
 happy. Indeed, most of them are not, because 
 few of them are well cared for. By that I 
 mean not only suppKed with fresh water and 
 fresh food, with plenty of variety, but talked to, 
 made much of, and loved. A bird can be made 
 so happy and comfortable in a house that he 
 will refuse freedom, but to make him so he 
 must have perfect confidence in, and even love 
 for, the people he lives with. 
 
THE BUSY BLUE JAY 
 
 I 
 
 One of the most interesting birds who ever 
 lived in my Bird Eoom was a blue jay named 
 Jakie. He was full of business from morning 
 till night, scarcely ever a moment stUl. 
 
 Poor little fellow ! He had been stolen from 
 the nest before he could fly, and reared in a 
 house, long before he was given to me. Of 
 course he could not be set free, for he did not 
 know how to take care of himself. 
 
 Jays are very active birds, and being shut up 
 in a room, my blue jay had to find things to do, 
 to keep himself busy. If he had been allowed 
 to grow up out of doors, he would have found 
 plenty to do, planting acorns and nuts, nesting, 
 and bringing up families. 
 
 Sometimes the things he did in the house 
 were what we call mischief because they annoy 
 us, such as hammering the woodwork to pieces, 
 tearing bits out of the leaves of books, working 
 holes in chair seats, or pounding a cardboard 
 box to pieces. But how is a poor little bird to 
 know what is mischief ? 
 
16 TKUE BIKD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 Many things which Jakie did were very funny. 
 For instance, he made it his business to clear up 
 the room. When he had more food than he 
 could eat at the moment, he did not leave it 
 around, but put it away carefully, — not in the 
 garbage pail, for that was not in the room, but 
 in some safe nook where it did not offend the 
 eye. Sometimes it was behind the tray in his 
 cage, or among the books on the shelf. The 
 places he liked best were about me, — in the fold 
 of a ruffle or the loop of a bow on my dress, and 
 sometimes in the side of my slipper. The very 
 choicest place of all was in my loosely bound 
 hair. That of course I could not allow, and I 
 had to keep very close watch of him for fear I 
 might have a bit of bread or meat thrust among 
 my locks. In his clearing up he always went 
 carefully over the floor, picking up pins or any 
 little thing he could find, and I often dropped 
 burnt matches, buttons, and other small things 
 to give him something to do. These he would 
 pick up and put nicely away. 
 
 Pins, Jakie took lengthwise in his beak, and 
 at first I thought he had swallowed them, till I 
 saw him hunt up a proper place to hide them. 
 The place he chose was between the leaves of a 
 book. He would push a pin far in out of sight, 
 and then go after another. A match he always 
 
THE BUSY BLUE JAY 17 
 
 tried to put in a crack, under the base-board, be- 
 tween the breadths of matting, or under my 
 rockers. He first placed it, and then tried to 
 hammer it in out of sight. He could seldom get 
 it in far enough to suit him, and this worried 
 him. Then he would take it out and try another 
 place. 
 
 Once the blue jay found a good match, of 
 the parlor match variety. He put it between 
 the breadths of matting, and then began to 
 pound on it as usual. Pretty soon he hit the 
 unburnt end and it went off with a loud crack, 
 as parlor matches do. Poor Jakie jumped two 
 feet into the air, nearly frightened out of his 
 wits ; and I was frightened, too, for I feared he 
 might set the house on fire. 
 
 Often when I got up from my chair a shower 
 of the bird's playthings would fall from his 
 various hiding-places about my dress, — nails, 
 matches, shoe-buttons, bread-crumbs, and other 
 things. Then he had to begin his work all over 
 again. 
 
 Jakie liked a small ball or a marble. His 
 game was to give it a hard peck and see it roll. 
 If it rolled away from him, he ran after it and 
 pecked again; but sometimes it rolled toward him, 
 and then he bounded into the air as if he thought 
 it would bite. And what was funny, he was 
 
18 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 always offended at this conduct of the ball, and 
 went off sulky for a while. 
 
 He was a timid little fellow. Wind or storm 
 outside the windows made him wild. He would 
 fly around the room, squawking at the top of his 
 voice ; and the horrible tin horns the boys liked 
 to blow at Thanksgiving and Christmas drove 
 him frantic. Once I brought a Christmas tree 
 into the room to please the birds, and all were 
 delighted with it except my poor Uttle blue jay, 
 who was much afraid of it. Think of the sad- 
 ness of a bird being afraid of a tree ! 
 
 II 
 
 Jakie had decided opinions about people who 
 came into the room to see me, or to see the 
 birds. At some persons he would squawk every 
 moment. Others he saluted with a queer cry 
 like " Ob-ble ! ob-ble ! ob-ble ! " Once when a 
 lady came in with a baby, he fixed his eyes on 
 that infant with a savage look as if he would 
 like to peck it, and jumped back and forth in 
 his cage, panting, but perfectly silent. 
 
 Jakie was very devoted to me. He always 
 greeted me with a low, sweet chatter, with wings 
 quivering, and if he were out of the cage he 
 would come on the back of my chair and touch 
 
BLUE JAY 
 
THE BUSY BLUE JAY 19 
 
 my cheek or lips very gently with his beak, or 
 offer me a bit of food if he had any ; and to 
 me alone, when no one else was near, he sang 
 a low, exquisite song. I afterwards heard a 
 similar song sung by a wild blue jay to his mate 
 while she was sitting, and so I knew that my 
 dear little captive had given me his sweetest — 
 his love song. 
 
 One of Jakie's amusements was dancing across 
 the back of a tall chair, taking funny little steps, 
 coming down hard, " jouncing " his body, and 
 whistling as loud as he could. He would keep, 
 up this funny performance as long as anybody 
 would stand before him and pretend to dance 
 too. 
 
 My jay was fond of a sensation. One of his 
 dearest bits of fun was to drive the birds into a 
 panic. This he did by flying furiously around 
 the room, feathers rustling, and squawking as loud 
 as he could. He usually managed to fly just over 
 the head of each bird, and as he came like a 
 catapult, every one flew before him, so that in a 
 minute the room was full of birds flying madly 
 about, trying to get out of his way. This gave 
 him great pleasure. 
 
 Wild blue jays, too, like to stir up their neigh- 
 bors. A friend told me of a small party of blue 
 jays that she saw playing this kind of a joke on 
 
20 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 a flock of birds of several kinds, robias, cat- 
 birds, thrashers, and others. These birds were 
 gathering the cherries on the top branches of a 
 big cherry-tree. The jays sat quietly on another 
 tree tiU the cherry-eaters were very busy eating. 
 Then suddenly the mischievous blue rogues 
 would aU rise together and fly at them, as my 
 pet did at the birds in the room. It had the 
 same effect on the wild birds ; they aU flew in a 
 panic. Then the joking jays would return to 
 their tree and wait till their victims forgot their 
 fear and came straggling back to the cherries, 
 when they repeated the fun. 
 
 Once a grasshopper got into the Bird Room, 
 probably brought in clinging to some one's dress 
 in the way grasshoppers do. Jakie was in his 
 cage, but he noticed the stranger instantly, and 
 I opened the door for him. He went at once to 
 look at the grasshopper, and when it hopped he 
 was so startled that he hopped too. Then he 
 picked the insect up, but he did not know what 
 to do with it, so he dropped it again. Again the 
 grasshopper jumped directly up, and again the 
 jay did the same. This they did over and over, 
 till every one was tired laughing at them. It 
 looked as if they were trying to see who could 
 jump the highest. 
 
 There was another bird in the room, however, 
 
THE BUSY BLUE JAY 21 
 
 who knew what grasshoppers were good for. He 
 was an orchard oriole, and after looking on awhile, 
 he came down and carried o£E the hopper to eat. 
 The jay did not Kke to lose his plaything ; he 
 ran after the thief, and stood on the floor giving 
 low cries and looking on while the oriole on a 
 chair was eating the dead grasshopper. When 
 the oriole happened to drop it, Jakie — who had 
 got a new idea what to do with grasshoppers — 
 snatched it up and carried it under a chair and 
 finished it. I could tell many more stories about 
 my bird, but I have told them before in one of my 
 "■ grown-up " books, so I will not repeat them 
 here.^ 
 
 1 In Nesting Time, p. 173. 
 
THE DROLL TA^AGER 
 
 One of the drollest sights in bird-land is a 
 scarlet tanager putting on his winter suit. 
 
 In summer he is dressed in briUiant scarlet 
 ■with black trimmings, but when he gets his new 
 suit, as all birds do in late summer, he changes 
 his gay feathers for a modest yellow-olive, such 
 as his mate wears all the year. 
 
 I wanted to see how the change was made, so 
 one autumn I was pleased to find a lot of scarlet 
 tanagers in a bird store. 
 
 Such a comical-looking party as they were ! 
 They looked as if dressed in " crazy patchwork," 
 for their new yellowish feathers come ia two or 
 three at a time as the old red ones drop out, and 
 on no two of the birds did they appear in the 
 same way. One had entirely changed except a 
 ring of the old scarlet around the neck ; another 
 wore his winter color in dabs and patches all 
 over ; a third had dressed his head in the new 
 color while the rest of the plumage was still 
 scarlet. 
 
 I bought one who had a broad line of red 
 
THE DROLL TANAGER 23 
 
 down the breast, -which met another of the same 
 color over the back. It looked like a red harness 
 on a yellowish bird. He was a queer-looking 
 fellow, and he acted as queer as he looked, for 
 he did not care to eat. He would stand on the 
 edge of his food dish and look at the food with- 
 out touching it. If he hked the look of it, he 
 would taste it, but if it did not please his critical 
 eye, he simply let it alone. 
 
 It would never do to have a bird who did not 
 eat, so when the tanager scorned his bill of fare, 
 I added grated carrot to the mockingbird food, 
 and that he decided to eat. He liked raspber- 
 ries, too, and when he refused to bathe, I coaxed 
 him to go into the water by putting a raspberry 
 in the dish, where he had to go in to get it. 
 
 What the bird wanted was live food, I knew, 
 and I gave him meal worms, which pleased him 
 so much that soon he grew tame enough to 
 come on my desk for them. In fact, though he 
 was shy, he was never afraid of me. He always 
 came when I called him, and at last he told me 
 what he liked best to eat. 
 
 Although we may not understand the lan- 
 guage of our little fellow creatures (if they have 
 one), we can easily understand their actions, and 
 the way the tanager told me what he wanted to 
 eat was this : I always opened the windows 
 
24 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 wide before I let the birds out of their cages in 
 the morning, and one day a fly got into the 
 room. I saw the tanager looking at it eagerly, 
 as if he would like to catch it, so I opened his 
 door. He flew out instantly, went after that fly 
 as a dog will go for a rat, caught it, and ate it 
 with great satisfaction. 
 
 I took the hint thus given. I hung some 
 sticky fly-paper outside the kitchen door, where 
 flies hang around, ready to come in if a door is 
 left open. In a short time I had five or six of 
 them caught, and I carried the paper with its 
 buzzing prisoners up to the Bird Room. 
 
 The moment I went in holding up my prize, 
 the tanager flew at me, and before I could lay it 
 down, he picked every fly off, hovering like a 
 hummingbird. After that I gave him his regu- 
 lar lunch of flies. 
 
 This queer feUow never liked to be looked at; 
 especially he hated to have any one see him eat. 
 When I offered him flies, they were too tempt- 
 ing to be declined, but when he was in his cage 
 and wanted to eat, he would stretch up and look 
 over at me on the other side of the room. If 
 I happened to be looking that way, he would 
 leave the food and sit down on his upper perch 
 as if he had never thought of such a thing as 
 eating. 
 
THE DKOLL TANAGER 25 
 
 So I made the tanager a private dining-room, 
 by putting a lining of stiff paper around the 
 corner of his cage where the food dishes were. 
 This made him very happy, and it was funny to 
 see him stretch up between mouthf uls and look 
 over his screen to see if I were looking. If I 
 happened to move, he would flit to the upper 
 perch as if he had been caught in mischief. 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S DEVOTION 
 
 The first I noticed of the little goldfinch's 
 devotion to the tanager was after he had been 
 with me several months, when Chip took a fancy 
 to sitting on the perch that ran out of the tana- 
 ger's cage- 
 Before that, the tanager had given up coming 
 out, though his door stood open all the time. 
 Birds who are not very active often do so. 
 Having all their comforts inside the cage, and 
 not caring to fly around, they sometimes have to 
 be coaxed to come out. 
 
 The tanager seldom went outside his door, 
 and Chip found his perch a comfortable place 
 where the big birds in the room did not disturb 
 him. After a while he moved his seat just inside 
 the door, and then he was still more quiet, and 
 the tanager did not object. 
 
 Unless Chip went too near the tanager on his 
 upper perch, he was never noticed, and before 
 long he made himseM at home aU over the cage, 
 and took it upon himself to keep other birds 
 out of it. Birds are as fond of calling on one 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S DEVOTION 27 
 
 another as some people, but no matter how big 
 the bird who came to the tanager's door, Chip 
 always met him with scolding and fluttering 
 wings, and drove him away. 
 
 As he grew more familiar with the tanager, 
 Chip began to talk to him, a little low chatter, 
 such as he had talked to Chipee, with eyes fixed 
 on his red neighbor. 
 
 Chip's fondness for the silent tanager con- 
 tinued to grow, and he wanted to get nearer to 
 him, so he took to clinging to the cage wires 
 outside, as near as he could get. It must have 
 been hard to hold on there, but the little fellow 
 left it only to eat and bathe. When the tanager 
 hopped to the other end of the cage, Chip fol- 
 lowed him outside, and when he went to eat, the 
 little goldfinch went too — outside. 
 
 Once in a great while the tanager would go 
 out of the cage, and then Chip was most anxious 
 and troubled. He followed from perch to perch, 
 and if he went into another bird's cage, Chip 
 stood at the door and would not let any one come 
 in. K the tanager went to the floor. Chip was 
 very uneasy, leaning far over and watching him, 
 and when he flew up to a perch, giving a joyous 
 call. 
 
 In the next cage to the tanager Uved a robin, a 
 big, fun-loving fellow, who took it upon himself 
 
28 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 to make the shy tanager go out into the room. 
 The way he did it was to jump on the roof of 
 the cage, coming down hard, right over the tana- 
 ger's head. Of course the tanager hopped across 
 to another perch, and the robin began a mad 
 war dance across the roof, making the tanager 
 fly wildly around till he slipped out at the door. 
 
 Chip did not approve of this way of treating 
 his friend, and he set out to make the robin 
 behave better. He flew at the big fellow, half a 
 dozen times as big as himself, but the robin was 
 not a bit scared. 
 
 Then I came to the rescue, and fastened a 
 paper over the top of the cage. This usuaUy 
 keeps birds off, but the robin seemed to like it, for 
 it made more noise. He pranced back and forth 
 over it with dehght ; he lifted the handle of the 
 cage and let it fall with a clatter ; he tore off 
 bits of the paper and dropped them into the 
 cage, and was as naughty as he could be. All 
 the while Chip was scolding and flying at him, 
 trying to peck him, and doing his very best to 
 protect his friend. 
 
 When spring came, the tanager woke up and 
 showed an interest in things. He began to sing, 
 he took soaking baths, and he spent much time 
 at the window looking out on the trees as they 
 put on their green spring coats. 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S DEVOTION 29 
 
 Now, too, he began to be cross to Chip. He 
 had never seemed to care for his httle friend, he 
 had only endured his attentions, but now he was 
 really unkind to him, and poor Chip was very 
 unhappy about it. 
 
 I waited only till it was warm enough to be 
 safe to let the tanager out, and then I took him 
 into the country away from English sparrows 
 and set him free. Chip moped a little while, 
 but there was always so much going on in the 
 Bird Room that he soon found somethiag else to 
 interest him. 
 
A MADCAP THRUSH 
 
 I 
 
 The most amusing bird I ever saw was an 
 English blackbird. One who knows our Amer- 
 ican thrushes would never look for pranks and 
 " show-ofE " performances in that dignified fam- 
 ily. Yet this madcap was a thrush — the black 
 thrush. 
 
 He had not been in the house ten minutes 
 before he began to exhibit his accompHshments: 
 First he looked the new cage over from top to 
 bottom, tried every perch, tasted the food, flirted 
 out a few drops of water, and then settled him- 
 self on the middle perch, fixed his eyes upon me, 
 and prepared to sing. 
 
 I was charmed with his readiness ; I held my 
 breath ! Now I should hear the famous English 
 blackbird, whose praise is sung by the poets of 
 Europe. I did. I heard him whistle out, loud 
 and clear — a pure Yankee air ! 
 
 Down fell my hopes, for if there is one thing 
 I specially dislike, it is a bird trained to whistle 
 like a boy, and I remembered with disgust that 
 
A MADCAP THRUSH 31 
 
 I had promised to entertain the bird all winter 
 while his young master was abroad in search of 
 health. I wondered if I was doomed to hsten 
 to that stupid tune for six months. It soon 
 became plain that I was — and worse, for he 
 had forgotten or had never learned the end of 
 the strain, and that lost chord he was forever 
 seeking. 
 
 After I got over my first disappointment, I 
 tried to help him out, for he really seemed much 
 concerned about it ; but I did not know the air, 
 and he refused all my attempts to make an end 
 to it. 
 
 He did not scorn my help. If I began, he 
 would join in and make a duet of it, and if I 
 stopped at the end of a few notes, he would 
 take it up at that point and finish it. If I 
 whistled it wrong to try him, he at once cor- 
 rected me by repeating it as it should be. 
 
 All through the first evening till ten o'clock 
 he sat on that middle perch and whistled his 
 unfinished strain, and not one note of his own 
 song did I hear. 
 
 The next day I was treated to a curious sight. 
 The room where I sat at work was separated 
 from his by portieres, and he did not see me, 
 though I could look through a crack and see 
 him. Hearing a queer, low song, I peeped at 
 
32 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 him, and there he was on the floor of his cage 
 dancing a jig — I don't know what else to call it. 
 
 His eyes were fixed on the middle perch, two 
 or three inches above his head, as if he were ad- 
 dressing some one on that spot, and he was jump- 
 ing and tiptoeing around in the drollest way. 
 
 First he hopped back and forth with mincing 
 steps, singing a whispering song aU the while, 
 and moving his head from side to side. Then 
 he sprang lightly to the lowest perch, just above 
 the floor, instantly jumped down and scrambled 
 across the floor, and then turned and bounded 
 over the middle perch without touching it, as if 
 he had suddenly gone mad. Such a figure as 
 he was ! The feathers on the top of his head 
 stood up like a crest, his mouth was half open, 
 his wings were held a little out, and his tail 
 was spread open like a fan. 
 
 While I looked on at this queer performance, 
 he seemed all at once to think of something. 
 
 He ran up the three perches to the top, and 
 began his whistle. The show was over for that 
 time.^ 
 
 II 
 But that was not the end of the thrush's per^ 
 formances. He amused himself every day with 
 similar antics. Sometimes he began by flying 
 
A MADCAP THRUSH 33 
 
 madly back and forth between the two upper 
 perches, with crest raised, tail spread, and wings 
 open, then dropped to the floor and stood before 
 his door, uttering low, strange sounds that I can't 
 describe, looking through the wires as though he 
 saw some one outside to whom he was talking, 
 jerking his head, and wriggling his body in a 
 droU way ; and while I looked through the peep- 
 hole, he jumped back to the upper perch and 
 burst out with a loud " Chack ! chack ! chack ! " 
 — a regular blackbird call. 
 
 A few minutes later the fit seized him again ; 
 and down he went to the floor. 
 
 He pretended to snatch something from the 
 gravel and fling it across the cage ; then, point- 
 ing his beak to a particular spot on the bottom 
 of the cage, he hopped around in a circle, his 
 wings fluttering, his feathers puffed out, and all 
 the time singing the sweetest notes, so low that I 
 could hardly hear them. 
 
 With these antics he amused himself every day 
 when he thought he was alone ; but one evening, 
 when the family were all out, he deliberately took 
 it upon himselE to entertain me. He began 
 whistling his tune, and after two or three notes 
 broke it off and ended with what sounded like 
 talk. Then he took up the air where he had 
 dropped it, and ended in a noise like a laugh. 
 
34 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 Again he resumed his air, and interrupted himself 
 with a whistle Hke a call to a dog. A fourth 
 time he started that whistle, got three or four 
 notes farther, and ended with a sound like a kiss. 
 
 I pretended not to notice him, and he went on 
 with the most comical performance I ever heard 
 from a bird ; every time beginning the air he had 
 been taught, and bursting into something else. 
 Beside the sounds I have spoken of, he made 
 sometimes a tremolo of the last note, which was 
 reaUy delightful. Again, he gave a droU " Que ! 
 que ! " then a " Wee-o ! " and so on. 
 
 All the time the whistled part was loud and 
 clear, and the funny additions were low, as if to 
 himself. 
 
 It seemed as if he were trying to recite his 
 lesson, but was so full of fun that he had to 
 indulge in these little asides. It was the oddest 
 and most laughable thing I ever saw. Taken 
 with his serious-looking black coat and his very 
 knowing eyes, it did seem a little uncanny, and 
 as if he knew altogether too much for a bird. 
 In fact, though he looked like a bird, he behaved 
 like a monkey. 
 
 A serious trouble in the blackbird's life with 
 me was that I would not let him spatter the wall- 
 paper with the food and water he was always 
 flinging about, as if that were the only use he 
 
A MADCAP THRUSH 35 
 
 had for them. Behind his cage I fastened up a 
 sheet of stiff buff wrapping-paper, and to tear 
 that to bits was the task he set himself. He was 
 a faithful worker, I must admit. First he ham- 
 mered the paper with his stout yellow beak till 
 he picked a hole in it, and then with the same 
 useful bill he seized the edge, and pulled and 
 tugged till he tore it. 
 
 If he could get a piece off, he was happy. He 
 took it into the cage, and visited upon that bit 
 his hatred of the whole sheet. He beat it so 
 rapidly that it sounded like the roll of a small 
 drum ; he flung it about, he scraped it on the 
 floor, and never rested till it was reduced to 
 scraps, or dropped out the cage. 
 
 When I put his house in order for the day, I 
 always gave him a piece of fresh apple, wedged 
 in between two wires, where I hoped it would 
 stay for him to peck at ; but the blackbird had 
 other designs upon the apple. He wanted it 
 to play with. Faithfully he pushed and pulled 
 and twisted till he got the piece out, and then 
 took it down for a mad frolic. He would fling 
 it from side to side, then snatch at it, and in- 
 stantly spring up on the side of the cage and 
 hold on to the wires, looking scared out of his 
 wits, as if it had bitten him. Then he would go 
 down and worry it again. 
 
36 TKUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 Sometimes, lifting one wing, he would pounce 
 upon the bit of apple as if it were a savage 
 enemy that must be destroyed, and in a second 
 bound up on the middle perch as though he 
 expected to be murdered instantly. 
 
 Through all these performances he kept up 
 the sweet, low singing. Everything he did was 
 in a jerky way, and I never could guess what 
 would come next. 
 
 He appeared to rack his brain to think of new 
 pranks, and if everything else failed, he would 
 dash his gravel out over the carpet. I have even 
 seen him thrust his naughty head between the 
 wires and drop out a beakful of mockingbird 
 food. 
 
 After this fashion he " carried on " all winter, 
 and though I did not particularly enjoy him as 
 a bird, as a clown in a cage, an entertainer for a 
 dull hour, he was the funniest I ever saw in 
 feathers. 
 
THE BABY EOBIN 
 
 I 
 
 Ever since I read somewhere a charming 
 sketch of a tame robin named Bob, all robins 
 have been Bob or Bobby to me, so when a baby 
 of the family came into my Bird Room to spend 
 the winter, his name was all ready for him. 
 Bobby he became from that minute. 
 
 That he was a baby I knew partly by his 
 youthful ways, and partly by the fact that he 
 had not entirely put off the spotted bib which 
 marks the infancy of the thrush. He was a 
 knowing youngster, however; he had his own 
 opinions, and never hesitated to speak his mind, 
 though I could not always understand him. 
 
 The robin had no notion of losiog his interest 
 in hfe and the world around him because fate 
 had decreed that he should hve in a house. On 
 the contrary, he seemed as much interested, and 
 as eager to note the strange things that went on 
 inside our walls, as we are to observe the man- 
 ners of the foreign folk whose homes we visit. 
 
 The doings of the people thus suddenly be- 
 
38 TRUE BIRD STORIES PROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 come his neighbors he studied with curiosity ; 
 but one thing in his new world he was already 
 familiar with, and that was the birds. He real- 
 ized at once that he must make and keep his 
 place among them, and he proceeded to do this 
 the moment he learned how to go in and out of 
 his own particular apartment in that strange, 
 new place. 
 
 He had some difficulty at first, because the 
 door to his cage was rather low, — as cage doors 
 are apt to be, — and he stood up so straight that 
 he passed it forty times before he saw that there 
 was a door, and that it was wide open. He had 
 to stoop a little to go out. 
 
 The part of the room that the robin at once 
 claimed as his own private promenade was across 
 the tops of two large cages which stood side by 
 side on a shelf, — one being his own, — and he 
 made it part of his daily duty to see that no one 
 trespassed upon it. Woe to the unlucky blue- 
 bird or oriole who dared set foot on that sacred 
 spot ! Down upon him instantly came Master 
 Bobby with fury in his eye, so big and busthng 
 in manner that no one was brave enough to stay 
 and face him. 
 
 No one, did I say ? I must except one — a 
 little Baltimore oriole, who was ragged and tail- 
 less, but so bold and saucy that I shall tell her 
 story in another paper. 
 
THE BABY ROBIN 39 
 
 Another duty the robin took upon himself — 
 to assist me in seeing that every bird in the 
 room had his daily outing. Soon after the cage 
 doors were opened in the morning Bobby looked 
 around, and if he saw any of the feathered folk 
 who Ungered by the food-cup and did not take 
 advantage of their privilege, he went at once to 
 attend to it. 
 
 His manner of effecting this purpose was com- 
 pletely successful. He simply pounced upon the 
 top of a cage, and carried on such pranks over 
 the head of the bird within that he was glad to 
 fly out and leave the cage to the enemy. The 
 robin cared nothing for the cage, however ; he 
 merely wanted to drive its tenant out, and the 
 moment that was done he went his way. 
 
 It may appear strange that, being a robin and 
 consequently fond of the ground, Bobby did not 
 lay claim to the floor of his new territory. He 
 did desire to do so, but there was a slight diffi- 
 culty in the way. Another claimant was ahead 
 of him, and one who looked well able to main- 
 tain his ground — a blue jay. Against all oth- 
 ers in the room the robin did defend the floor, 
 always rushing up to see what was wanted when 
 any bird ventured to alight on the matting. 
 
 The blue jay was too big to take liberties with, 
 and he became an object of the greatest inter- 
 
40 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 est to the young robin. The jay was himself 
 httle more than a baby, who had lived with peo- 
 ple from the nest, and was therefore quite used 
 to a house. In fact, he knew no other home, 
 and Bobby watched everything he did with a 
 sort of admiring awe, as we have all seen a little 
 boy watch the performances of a big boy. 
 
 II 
 
 When the blue jay was hopping about the 
 floor, busy with his own affairs, which were 
 always of the utmost importance, in his opinion, 
 the robin often stood on a low table or chair, 
 and looked at him, following every movement 
 with deep concern. If the jay devoted himself 
 to some particular thing, like hammering a nut, 
 and went to the round of a chair to do it, his 
 admirer came as near as he thought safe, on the 
 floor, and observed the operation closely. 
 
 Sometimes, after looking on for a while, the 
 robin, too, hunted about for a plaything, and 
 brought a match, a pin, or a bit of nutshell that 
 he picked up on the floor, and laid it before the 
 jay, as if to challenge him to a frolic. What- 
 ever was his intention, the jay was far too busy 
 a personage to play ; his life was f uU of serious 
 duties, and he never accepted the invitation. 
 
THE BABY ROBIN 41 
 
 One thing the blue jay persisted in doing that 
 "was ahnost too much for Bobby to endure — 
 that was taking his bath first. The two birds 
 used the same broad, shallow dish on the floor ; 
 and when the jay got possession, the robin 
 would dance around in a circle, running and 
 hopping as near as he could without being spat- 
 tered, quite frantic to go in. But his big rival 
 was specially fond of a good soaking himself, 
 and he often kept Bobby waiting some time. 
 
 When at last the way was open, Bobby rushed 
 into the water, stepping upon the edge of the 
 dish with one foot, as a human being would do, 
 and taking his turn at a soak. On coming out 
 he fanned himself nearly dry, hopping about the 
 floor and beating violently sometimes one wing, 
 sometimes both wings. 
 
 He had, too, a curious fancy for coming upon 
 a small stand near me to dress his plumage. It 
 was not at all a good place, for there was no 
 perch to cling to while he twisted around to 
 plume himself. But it was his choice, and he 
 insisted on coming there, though when he tried 
 to reach his tail feathers his feet slipped and he 
 turned round and round like a kitten chasing its 
 own tail, making a laughable show of himself. 
 
 The robin baby, like others of his age, was 
 fond of play. A favorite game was to run 
 
42 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 across the two cages he considered his own, and, 
 at the end, jump heavily on the paper cover of a 
 smaller cage a foot away. Of course the first 
 bounce sent the owner out in a hurry, and then 
 Bobby ran and jumped till he was tired of it. 
 
 Another way he had of amusing himself was 
 trying to puU out the ends of strings that hung 
 loose where the matting was joined. One of 
 these was always irresistible to the bird. He 
 seized it in his beak, and pulled and tugged at 
 it so hard that he was often jerked off his feet. 
 The fact that he never got one out did not dis- 
 courage him in the least ; he was always ready 
 to attack another when he found it. 
 
 A string was his great delight ; he dragged 
 it about, and worried it as he did a worm. It 
 sometimes got him into trouble. On one occa- 
 sion he found a long piece of thread, and before 
 I noticed him, had so tangled it around one leg 
 and foot that he could not spread his toes, nor, 
 of course, stand on that foot, and he was very 
 much frightened. I could not catch him while 
 he was out in the room without scaring him still 
 more, and he worked at it himself a long time 
 before he went into his cage. As soon as he 
 did that, I caught him and cut off the thread 
 with scissors, though it was so twisted around 
 that I had to cut fifteen or twenty times before 
 it came off. 
 
BABY ROBIN 
 
THE BABY ROBIN 43 
 
 Bobby showed the common-sense for which 
 his family is noted, by submitting quietly, as soon 
 as he understood that I was trying to help him, 
 and letting that leg hang down, while the other 
 was held up. 
 
 A newspaper on the floor always furnished the 
 robin with much entertainment. After jerking 
 it about, and lifting it to peer under the edge, 
 he would pounce into the middle, peck a hole, 
 and then seize the edge of the opening and tear 
 the paper into strips. The tearing sound always 
 startled him and sent him off, — as it does nearly 
 every bird, — but the fun of doing it was so 
 great that he always came back and did it again. 
 
 One trouble came into the life of my robin 
 that for weeks made him very unhappy. It was 
 a feather in one wing, of which the feathery 
 part was missing — worn off, apparently. This 
 he plainly considered a disgrace to any robin, — 
 birds are very sensitive about the condition of 
 their plumage, — and he determined to puU it 
 out. He worked at it many hours, but for some 
 reason could not dislodge it ; but he did succeed 
 in making himself very miserable about it, and I 
 was glad that spring and the time of his freedom 
 was near. 
 
 As that magical season came on Bobby grew 
 restless, and worked off his superfluous energy on 
 
44 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 his roommates. He chased the birds about ; he 
 made war on a shy tanager ; he performed war 
 dances on the cages ; he tried to put an end to 
 all quiet life. 
 
 In fact, he became so troublesome in my little 
 colony that I was glad, on the first warm day, to 
 take the robin — a baby no longer — ■ out to the 
 country and bid him farewell. 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S FUN 
 
 I 
 
 When I introduced to my room the English 
 blackbird, some of whose pranks I have related, 
 there hung on the opposite side of the bay-win- 
 dow a smaller cage, in which lived another for- 
 eigner — an EngKsh goldfinch. 
 
 This bird was quite old, and had almost ceased 
 to sing. He had been for ten years in my 
 house, and had seen forty or fifty feathered folk, 
 of almost as many kinds, come and go. He was 
 nearly as much interested in bird study as I 
 was, and he watched and pondered over every 
 stranger as if he meant to put him in a book. 
 
 When I opened the goldfinch's door, as usual, 
 on the morning of the blackbird's arrival, he 
 paid no attention to his beloved bath, but in- 
 stantly flew over and alighted on the cage of 
 the newcomer. 
 
 This did not please the gentleman in black. 
 He stretched far up and saluted his visitor with 
 a decided " Chack ! " that the small bird under- 
 stood, for he flew at once to a perch resting 
 
46 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 against the wires of the blackbird's cage, where 
 he could stand three inches from the cage, see 
 every movement of the strangely behaved new- 
 comer, and yet be quite beyond his reach. 
 
 There he sat hour after hour, as much inter- 
 ested as if the whole performance were a show 
 for his amusement. He seemed perfectly en- 
 tranced; he would hardly leave his place for 
 food or water, and for the first time I had 
 trouble to get him into his cage at night. 
 
 And no wonder ! If ever there was a clown 
 in feathers, the blackbird was one. He took 
 notice of his little observer, of course ; he no- 
 ticed everything, and though he generally pre- 
 ferred to chatter and sing and show ofE to the 
 people about him, he did occasionally conde- 
 scend to pay attention to the bird. 
 
 Sometimes he scolded him in a loud " Chack ! 
 chack ! chack ! " as if reproving him for his 
 curiosity about his neighbors' affairs. Some- 
 times the goldfinch would sidle along an inch 
 on the perch, as if he thought the queer black 
 fellow might reach him ; but he knew enough 
 about cages to be sure that he was safe three 
 inches away. 
 
 Again, the blackbird would come close to the 
 wires on his side, and address his little audience 
 of one in a low, talking tone. The goldfinch 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S FUN 47 
 
 would reply, usually with a gentle scold. Upon 
 this, the hlackhird apparently resolved not to 
 notice him. He went to the floor, turned his 
 back, and interested himself in the gravel, or 
 began one of his comical dances. 
 
 This proceeding the smaller bird looked upon 
 with the closest attention, drawing nearer till he 
 almost touched the wires. But when, in some 
 of his frisking about, the blackbird approached 
 that side of the cage, the goldfinch dashed away 
 as though he feared his strange neighbor might 
 come through. Then the dancer hopped lightly 
 to the upper perch, spread wide his tail, lifted it 
 with a flourish, and let it fall gracefully back to 
 place, expressing — as I translated it — satis- 
 faction that he had put the starer to flight. 
 
 The goldfinch did not stay away long. He 
 was unable to resist the fascinations of his droU 
 neighbor. In a few moments he came back and 
 began a low chatter, which he kept up most of 
 the time. Many of the thrush's antics were for 
 the benefit of this httle spectator, as if to make 
 beheve that he did n't care if he did stand and 
 stare at him. 
 
 Once he had a grand froUc over one of the 
 goldfinch's feathers which happened to fall into 
 the cage, while the owner paused a second to 
 look down on him. He was moulting, and his 
 
48 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 feathers dropped easily. The moment it fell the 
 blackbird pounced on it ; and the way he " cai> 
 ried on " with it was funny to see, though the 
 little fellow looked rather disturbed, as if he felt 
 that a part of himself was being trifled with. 
 
 The blackbird literally wiped the floor with 
 that gay feather ; then he danced across the 
 cage sidewise, appearing half afraid of it. Again, 
 he beat it against a perch, flung it into the air 
 and caught it before it fell, and at last tossed it 
 into a corner as iE it were unworthy his notice. 
 
 Soon after, he began to perform around the 
 end of a perch as though it were a hobgoblin of 
 the most frightful sort, opening his mouth wide, 
 raising and fluttering his wings, swaying his 
 head from side to side, and glaring at it as 
 though he would eat it in half a minute. 
 
 II 
 The one thing that aroused the blackbird to 
 genuine fury was seeing his rival bathe. His 
 own bath was the principal event of the day in 
 his opinion, and he was so violent in his splash- 
 ings that it was necessary to take him into a 
 room where he could do no injury. He always 
 sprinkled the table and the carpet and furniture 
 for several feet around. 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S FUN 49 
 
 Even when he had just returned from this 
 daily excursion, and was not yet dry from his 
 own soaking, it excited him wildly to see any one 
 else in the water. He dashed around his cage, 
 fluttered his wings as he did in spattering, 
 pecked savagely at the wires, rushed to his 
 water dish, flirted out every drop he could, and 
 finally raised his head feathers like a crest, and 
 looked reproachfully over at me, as i£ I had 
 treated another better than I had treated him. 
 
 AU the time he uttered a low cry, a sort of 
 " Seep " with the mouth closed, and turned every 
 other second to see his Httle neighbor splashing 
 in his gentle way. 
 
 That little neighbor, too, took a rather 
 naughty delight in coming close to the black- 
 bird to shake himself, and thus sometimes to 
 throw a drop or two upon him. At this the 
 blackbird shook himself as though a drop of 
 water were poison to him ; and then he went to 
 the floor and busied himself with some important 
 matter, as if he did not know there was such a 
 bird in the room. 
 
 The goldfinch, as I said, had nearly lost his 
 pretty song, but sometimes he tried to sing a 
 little in his old way. This the blackbird appar- 
 ently regarded as a direct insult to him. Per- 
 haps he thought it intended for mockery of 
 
50 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 him, for as soon as the Httle fellow began, he 
 struck in with his loudest whistle — his Yankee 
 air. That always silenced the goldfinch, for he 
 could never get used to hearing a bird whistle 
 in so unbirdHke a way. 
 
 One curious trick that the blackbird occasion- 
 ally played off upon his httle watcher outside 
 showed a grim sense of humor that was perhaps 
 the most uncanny thing about him. He would 
 crouch on the floor, touching it with his breast, 
 every feather erected, head raised, and eyes 
 glaring; and when one was sure he was about 
 to do something madder than ever before, he 
 would suddenly rise to his feet in the most quiet 
 manner, drop his feathers back in their place, 
 and go on about his business as if he never 
 thought of a prank. Upon this the goldfinch 
 always seemed startled, and uttered a note or 
 two in an inquiring tone. 
 
 Then the blackbird turned his attention to 
 the goldfinch, and he always made one think of. 
 a savage warrior about to swallow up or totally 
 destroy his enemy. He had a way of wiping his 
 beak on the perch that looked like sharpening it 
 for instant use, and if he had been out, I am sure 
 the little fellow would have been afraid of him. 
 
 He scraped his beak violently, then looked 
 over at the bird outside, then glanced at me, 
 
THE GOLDFINCH'S PUN 51 
 
 shook himself vigorously, wiped his bill again, 
 and all in a jerky way as if he could hardly con- 
 tain himself. In a moment he turned his back 
 on the goldfinch, dropped to the floor, and pro- 
 ceeded to attack the middle perch as if it had 
 mortally ofBended him. 
 
 There was one thing, however, that frightened 
 him, and that — strange to say — was a long 
 stick. The father of the family is fond of fish- 
 ing, and his rods are dear to his heart; but 
 never, so long as the blackbird lived in the 
 house, could he bring one into the room with- 
 out putting the bird into such a panic that we 
 feared he would beat himself to death against 
 his cage. 
 
 This was no show performance, either, al- 
 though the Uttle goldfinch — who had long ago 
 learned the harmless character of a fishing-rod, 
 to birds at least — looked on with the same in- 
 terest with which he viewed all the actions of 
 his strange neighbor in black. 
 
 When at last his young master returned, and 
 the English blackbird went back to his home, the 
 goldfinch seemed greatly to miss his daily show. 
 
 He lost aU interest in coming out of his cage, 
 and for several months after he seemed to be 
 waiting and looking for some one to amuse him, 
 as did his strange black visitor of the winter. 
 
THE COMICAL CHEWINK 
 
 I 
 
 One day when I chanced to drop into a bird 
 store, — for I can never pass one without going 
 in, — I saw a bird that was new to me, and 
 strangely enough the owner could give it no 
 name. " It was some common thing," he said ; 
 " a boy brought it in, and though he did n't 
 care for it, he bought it to please the boy ; he 
 could put it in his window cage." Then, dis- 
 gusted to find that I had not come in to spend 
 twenty-five dollars for a loud-singing mocking- 
 bird to drive me crazy in a city house, or fifty 
 dollars for a parrot who would shriek me wild 
 in a week, the man walked ofE to the back of 
 his den, and left me to look at the stranger as 
 long as I liked. 
 
 The bird was bright and attractive, and not 
 at all afraid of me, regarding me with nearly as 
 much curiosity as I regarded him. I longed to 
 take him home and get better acquainted with 
 him. But my room was full. I had no place 
 for another cage, and I had to leave him. 
 
THE COMICAL CHEWINK 63 
 
 The next June, on the Hoosac Mountains, I 
 was greatly dehghted by an exquisite bird-song 
 
 — a perfect tremolo, like a peal of silver bells. 
 After much search I found the singer — a che- 
 wink or towhee bunting. AH through nesting 
 time I enjoyed his music. I found his nest, and 
 saw madam his spouse, and their one solitary 
 baby in its cradle in the grass. 
 
 After I came back to the city, one day in 
 looking up birds to fill my Bird Koom for the 
 winter, I went into the same old bird store. 
 The moment my eyes fell upon the stranger, — 
 stiU Hving in the big show cage in the window, 
 
 — I knew it. It was a female chewink, in her 
 modest dress of brown. Of course I could not 
 hope to hear the tremolo that so stirred me on 
 the mountain, but I coidd at least learn some 
 chewink ways. I brought her home, gave her a 
 fine large wire room to herself, and shortened 
 her name to " Winks." 
 
 The first morning a bird spends in my Bird 
 Room he is most interested in seeing the other 
 birds at their bath. They seldom have a chance 
 to bathe in a crowded store, and the splashing 
 they hear always sets the poor little creatures 
 nearly frantic. Winks was like the rest ; no 
 sooner did bathing begin than she came down 
 to the floor of her cage, and looked out sharply 
 
54 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 as if she said, " Can it be possible ? are they 
 really in the water ? " 
 
 In a moment she began to shake herself, and 
 to run back and forth, trying to get out. Her 
 wishes were as plain to me as if she asked in 
 so many words to have a bath. I gave her a 
 chance, and she took a good soaking, the first 
 in a year, I suppose, poor thing ! 
 
 The next day she made up her mind that 
 she preferred to bathe in her water dish, which 
 was about the size of a coffee-cup. It seemed 
 absurd to bathe in a three-inch cup when there 
 was a ten-inch bathtub at her disposal; so I 
 thought I would cure her of that notion by 
 giving her somethiug altogether too small for 
 the purpose, — a glass dish out of a small cage, 
 about an inch in diameter and rather deep. 
 
 That did not discourage her in the least ; she 
 seemed rather to like it, and though the tub full 
 of water was right before her eyes, she insisted 
 on using only the cup. Her way was very comi- 
 cal. She thrust her head in, and then bent her 
 wings and shook her feathers as if she had been 
 into the water all over. Sometimes she was so 
 eager about it that she fairly threw herself off 
 her feet, and her head would go in out of sight 
 while her tail stood straight up, and her feet for 
 an instant pawed the air wildly. A very droll 
 
THE COMICAL CHEWINK 55 
 
 figure she made of herself ; but it seemed to 
 please her, for it was a long time before she 
 formed the habit of bathing outside. 
 
 I said her tail stood up. I should have said 
 the tail coverts, or the short feathers that cover 
 the top of that member, for tail she had none ; 
 she was moulting. Much of the expression of a 
 bird depends upon the taU, but Winks managed 
 to perk up those coverts in a manner as saucy as 
 she did the long tail, when it came out. 
 
 II 
 
 My chewink had some curious ways. In the 
 fijpst place she insisted on sitting on the floor. 
 This did not surprise me, since the chewink is a 
 ground bird, getting its food there, and even 
 making its cozy Httle nest in a hollow in the 
 grass. 
 
 She would bend her long legs and sit perfectly 
 flat on the gravel, an hour at a time. Sometimes 
 she turned her face to the room, so that she 
 could be amused by the panorama of bird life 
 about her ; but now and then she hid her head 
 in the back corner of the cage, probably to take 
 a nap, though it looked as if she had turned 
 her back upon a frivolous world and the pranks 
 of blue jays and orioles, for serious meditation. 
 
56 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 This, too, was her chosen attitude for a sun 
 hath ; and I never saw a bird who could make 
 herself so flat. It is no doubt the way these 
 birds conceal themselves in the g^eat out of 
 doors ; and in that attitude they must have been 
 almost invisible on the grass-tufted, pebbly hill- 
 sides where I found them living. 
 
 A queer freak of my chewink was her deter- 
 mination to get her feet into her food. She 
 had mockingbird food mixed with grated carrot, 
 which many birds toss about, daintily picking 
 out only the bits they like. But Winks wanted 
 to scratch hers, like an old hen ; and scratch she 
 did, too, in spite of all I could do. 
 
 Her way was funny. It was to jump into the 
 dish with both feet, give one vigorous scratch, 
 and then spring out again, almost before one 
 could see what she did. 
 
 This trick, too, I tried to cure, but the bird 
 had a way of doing as she Kked. She laughed 
 me to scorn, so to speak. I took away her broad 
 dish and put her food in a small after-dinner cof- 
 fee-cup, not much wider than her foot was long. 
 Even into this the naughty Winks woiJd jump, 
 give one wild flirt with her feet, and then out, and 
 she would not eat tiU she had done it. I never 
 could cure her. 
 
 It was not because she was duU about learn- 
 
THE COMICAL CHEWINK 67 
 
 ing. She was very bright about other things ; 
 for instance, about learning to use a ladder. 
 One day when I was out something happened, — 
 I don't know what, — but on my return I found 
 in her cage twelve wing feathers. She had 
 either beaten herseH against the cage or deliber- 
 ately pulled them out. 
 
 The result was seen the next morning — she 
 could not fly. When she started out on her usual 
 tour of the room, she came plump to the floor. 
 
 I brought at once, and put up to the door of 
 her cage, a light ladder which I keep for the use 
 of disabled birds. The moment she saw it she 
 hopped up, round after round, in an experiment- 
 ing sort of way, to see where they led, until she 
 reached her doorway. Contrary to my intention 
 at this point, she did not go in, but hopped to 
 the top of her open door, and then scrambled to 
 the roof of the cage. There she was as badly 
 off as before ; for no bird that is disabled wiU 
 try to fly downward. 
 
 I waited till she grew hungry and uneasy, and 
 yet she would not venture to hop down the short 
 distance. Then I made use of the meal-worm 
 argument. It is the most potent " persuader " I 
 know for birds which eat worms. Taking one of 
 these unpleasant creatures in a pair of printer's 
 tweezers that I keep for the purpose, and being 
 
58 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 careful to pick out a lively one, I drop it on the 
 floor of the bird's cage. The main object in life 
 with these wriggling things being to get out of 
 sight, it starts instantly for a hiding-place. The 
 movement attracts the eye of the hungry bird 
 on the roof, and he is at once frantic to seize 
 and stop the escape of his prey. In his eager- 
 ness he forgets his fear of falling, and is almost 
 certain to clamber down the side of his cage, and 
 rush in after what he considers a choice morsel. 
 
 A comical performance of the chewink was 
 to fly about the cage as if she had gone mad. 
 From perch to perch she went in a wild fashion, 
 using wings as well as legs, and ended up stand- 
 ing on the middle perch, flapping her wings like a 
 crowing cock, and crying, " Chewink! chewink!" 
 as loud as she could call. She never condescended 
 to amuse herself. I think she was old, and had 
 outlived the follies of her youth. She went on 
 her way about the room, paying no attention to 
 any one, and giving a saucy toss of her tail — 
 after ilJ grew out — that seemed to warn all whom 
 it might concern not to meddle with her. 
 
 At any rate, no one did interfere ; and when 
 the spring fever set in among my birds, the 
 chewink was the first to go her way in the world 
 out of doors, where I hope she is alive and well 
 to-day. 
 
POLLY'S PRANKS 
 
 I 
 
 Polly was a snowy white cockatoo, with beau- 
 tiful yellow crest, who lived in a pleasant home 
 in New York. The one object of her life, when 
 I first knew her, was to get out of her cage. 
 
 She might have stayed out aU the time, for it 
 was a pet-ridden house, and the family was used 
 to all sorts of beast and bird pranks. She 
 might, I say, but for one or two notions which 
 she had. One was an incurable dislike of beads, 
 and another an equally strong liking for buttons. 
 
 The beads she attacked as if they were ene- 
 mies, biting them ofE a lady's dress much faster 
 than they had been sewed on, and flinging them 
 away with a spiteful jerk that sprinkled the car- 
 pet like a shower of glass. No matter what 
 other attractions were in a room, if a lady hap- 
 pened to wear a bit of sparkling bead trimming, 
 the instant Polly was free she flew or waddled 
 across the floor, and went to work at it, and 
 neither coaxing nor scolding had the smallest 
 effect upon her. 
 
60 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 With buttons it was otherwise. She seemed 
 to deHght in them. To be sure, she bit them 
 off, but it was in the way old Izaak Walton says 
 a fisherman must put a hook through a worm, 
 " as if he loved it." She snapped off the but- 
 tons with her scissors-like beak, but she did not 
 throw them away j she chewed them up. If no 
 one happened to notice her, the naughty bird 
 would snatch every button from her mistress's 
 dress, or her master's coat, more quickly than a 
 person could do it with a knife. 
 
 Another of this bird's tricks was to attack 
 people's feet, and as she had a beak like a pick- 
 axe, and never hesitated to use it, she was the 
 terror of children and servants. 
 
 Children, indeed, she particularly disliked. 
 She squawked at them if she could not get out 
 of her cage, and she flew at them if she could. 
 
 These, with other troublesome fancies, con- 
 demned Madam Polly to a cage, and, as I said 
 before, to get out of that ^ded prison was her 
 sole business in life. 
 
 First she would coax, and her way was most 
 droll. She began by saying pathetically, " Poor 
 Polly ! " to call attention to her wishes. If any 
 one looked at her, she at once began to bow in 
 the most persuasive and violent manner. If 
 that did not bring deliverance, she wriggled 
 
POLLY'S PRANKS 61 
 
 from side to side, opening and quivering her 
 ■wings, and almost twisting her neck off in her 
 attempts to be winning, her big, dark eyes all 
 the time eagerly fixed upon the one she hoped 
 would open her door. 
 
 If these curious antics had no efEect, she 
 squawked savagely, and so loud that conversa- 
 tion could not be heard in the room ; but her 
 crowning effort, and one that usually was suc- 
 cessful, was a wheedhng little song — a most 
 ludicrous performance. It sounded like a child 
 trying to sing in a high key and with the qua- 
 vering, shaky voice of an old woman. It was 
 the funniest song a bird ever uttered, I am sure, 
 and no one could resist this supreme attempt to 
 please. 
 
 If dinner was going on when she came out, 
 she rushed at once for the table, climbed up by 
 the cloth, or the dress of a friend, and proceeded 
 to look over the dishes, make her choice, and 
 help herself. Oatmeal she liked; green corn, 
 too, and a chicken bone to pick ; but her special 
 delight was in green peas, which she neatly ex- 
 tracted from their delicate skins, and ate with 
 great daintiness. So strong was this liking that 
 the sight of raw peas set her wild till some were 
 given to her. Then she took a pod deftly in 
 one claw, held it up, and removed the peas one 
 
62 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 after another, dropping the cleaned-out skins as 
 she went on. 
 
 After eating all she wanted, if she chanced to 
 be in an amiable mood, Polly Uked to " show 
 off " to a stranger, and she had a comical way. 
 She cHmbed up the back of a chair, stood on 
 the top, fixed her eyes on the one she intended 
 to charm by the performance, and, the moment 
 that person looked at her, began. 
 
 II 
 To begin with, Polly jerked herself up to her 
 greatest height, as if a spring had gone off in- 
 side her like a Jack-in-the-box, every feather 
 erect, crest standing straight up, and delivered 
 herself of her greatest accomplishment, " Cocka- 
 too Cracker ! " with a satisfied air, as if nothing 
 could go beyond that. The next instant she 
 crouched on her perch as low as possible ; then 
 bowed many times as fast as she could, as though 
 she were hammering something. She performed 
 the most ridiculous capers, which somehow re- 
 minded one of the puppyish gambols of a big, 
 awkward dog. Then, if her door were not opened 
 for all her coaxing and storming, madam pro- 
 ceeded to open it, or at least to try to open it. 
 No wire, no string, no intricacy of knots or de- 
 vice of twisting, could baffle her. 
 
POLLY'S PRANKS 63 
 
 She was very knowing, and her beak and 
 claws — hands, they ahnost deserve to be called 
 — were as useful as many people's fingers. She 
 would work with the utmost patience at any 
 fastening, cutting string or small wire, till she 
 got the door open. The only thing she could 
 not master was a padlock with the key removed. 
 She could turn the key r£ it were left in. 
 
 When her door was actually locked, and she 
 knew it, her anger was roused ; and she at once 
 expressed her opinion of the world in general, 
 and her master in particular, by first shaking 
 her door until it seemed that the hinges must 
 give way, and then wreaking her vengeance on 
 the seed and water cups. These she shook 
 loose, and then pushed out of their places upon 
 the floor. A wide scattering of seeds or a fine 
 shower of water delighted her, and relieved her 
 mind. 
 
 After enduring this annoyance for some time, 
 her master brought other tiny padlocks, one for 
 each dish ; and after that, not only her door, but 
 each dish, was securely locked in when it was 
 necessary to shut her up. 
 
 She was not conquered even then. Seed and 
 water could not be locked in, and she could 
 thrust her big beak into her seed cup, and fling 
 the contents halfway across the room. If the 
 
64 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 seed was so low in the cup that she could not 
 do that, she gathered a beakf ul and tossed it out 
 upon the carpet, treating water in the same way, 
 till neither food nor drink was left in her cage. 
 
 This seemed to be a great relief to her feelings, 
 as harsh words or deeds are supposed to be with 
 bigger folk. Before she gave up trying to open 
 the padlocks, she would work awhile at the door, 
 then rush madly to her seed cup' and fling out a 
 lot of seed, then hurry back to the padlock again. 
 
 Polly's last resource when she could not open 
 the door, and seed and water were all gone, was 
 to squawk insultingly at the top of her voice, 
 "Ya!ya!ya!" 
 
 Reading aloud was always a trial to the cocka- 
 too, and she generally kept up a low, mocking 
 talk, like the long-drawn-out " Craw ! craw ! 
 craw ! " of a hen as she walks about the poul- 
 try yard delivering her opinions to the feathered 
 world around her. If she were not noticed, this 
 talk became sometimes so loud that she had to 
 be put into another room. 
 
 This was a dreadful thing, for poor PoUy was 
 the greatest coward I ever saw in feathers. 
 Being left alone was her severest punishment, and 
 always prompted her to do the most mischief she 
 could think of. 
 
 One day, by some carelessness, the padlock on 
 
POLLY'S PRANKS 65 
 
 her door was not fastened, and Polly had the 
 sitting-room to herself for an hour. On the 
 return of the mistress, she was met at the door 
 by bows and cries of " Poor PoUy," and repeti- 
 tions of everything the bird could say, in the 
 most coaxing manner. 
 
 She knew at once that mischief had been done, 
 and one glance was enough. Polly had enjoyed 
 a fine froUc with her work-basket. Such a wreck 
 is not often seen : needles from their papers and 
 pins from their box strewed the carpet ; the 
 remains of pearl buttons that she had snipped to 
 bits lay thick as snowflakes over the floor ; 
 spools had been nibbled, thread and silk cut into 
 short lengths and scattered about ; a gold thimble 
 dented past using in her efiEorts to bite it ; and 
 the deUcate basket itself puUed apart and broken. 
 
 It looked as if a cyclone had struck that work- 
 basket, and PoUy was almost too happy to stay 
 inside her feathers, but it was her last prank in 
 the parlor. Her padlocks were never again for- 
 gotten. 
 
POLLY'S OUTING 
 
 Pull of naughtiness as she was, Polly, the 
 cockatoo, was very dear to the hearts of the 
 family, and, Uke Mary's lamb, — 
 
 Everywhere the mistress went 
 The bird was sure to go. 
 
 So one June she traveled out on Long Island 
 for her summer outing. This was great fun for 
 Madam PoUy, for she was out of doors most of the 
 time. It was thought that she could do no harm 
 in the country, but the cockatoo had a keen scent 
 for mischief. She had not been there a day be- 
 fore she showed what she could do in that line. 
 
 Her cage was hung against the trunk of a 
 cherry-tree, which was covered thickly with small 
 green balls that the people hoped would become 
 cherries in time ; but Polly had other plans, and 
 took it upon herself to attend to those absurd 
 cherries. 
 
 The first thing she did when her door was 
 opened was to seize a low-hanging branch and 
 climb into the cherry-tree. Soon she was out of 
 
POLLY'S OUTING 67 
 
 sight among the leaves, and then began a gentle 
 but continuous shower, first of leaves and small 
 twigs, which she bit off and dropped, and then 
 of the cherries — to be. 
 
 Commands and scoldings were useless. She 
 was among the top branches and could not be 
 reached, and she picked leaves and fruit till she 
 was tired of the sport ; then she turned her atten- 
 tion to the bark, and actually girdled one branch 
 before she was caught at it and forced to come 
 down. 
 
 The next day she started for new fields. By 
 way of the cherry-tree ladder she chmbed, as Jack 
 did his beanstalk, to the roof of the piazza, and 
 then ran its whole length, squawking at every 
 one who passed. Especially did she revile a 
 peddler, never ceasing her squawks as long as he 
 was in sight. Next she mocked the neighbors' 
 children, whose calls she answered, strangely 
 enough, with just as many squawks as there were 
 words in their call. 
 
 When she became tired of this amusement she 
 settled down to " business," nibbHng off the over- 
 hanging edges of the newly painted clapboards 
 and the edges of the slats from the new blinds. 
 It was not until she had defaced the front of the 
 house sadly that she was discovered and brought 
 down. 
 
68 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 Down the front yard ran a long, old-fashioned 
 grape arbor with ornamental front, which had at 
 its top a pole, holding up in the air a baU sur- 
 mounted by an elaborately sawed-out star. Upon 
 this emblem of her country Polly next fixed her 
 wicked eye, and started up. The lattice-work 
 was an admirable ladder ; and stopping only to 
 snip off the tender stems of a few young, grow- 
 ing vines, and halE a dozen strings just fastened 
 up to point out to the young moon-flowers the 
 way they should go, she soon reached the pole, 
 climbed it, stood on the ball, and gave her mind 
 to that star. 
 
 Before any one noticed her, she had nibbled 
 the edges, bitten off the points, and turned it into 
 a most disreputable affair. When found, she 
 was so pleased with the result of her labor that 
 she scrambled upon the crazy-looking star and 
 squawked at the top of her voice, fluttering her 
 wings and bowing until it seemed that her head 
 must come off. 
 
 By this time the family began to think of a 
 bill for damages, and madam was locked up, 
 but it seemed cruel in the country to shut up a 
 bird, and everything she did was so funny that 
 one could n't long be vexed at her. So the next 
 morning the door was again opened, and PoUy 
 started out on a new tack. 
 
POLLY'S OUTING 69 
 
 This time she mounted to the top of the ar- 
 bor, and started on a promenade down the sharp 
 edge of the board that formed the ridge. This 
 was a brave feat for the cockatoo, who always 
 liked to keep close to her friends ; and she had 
 adventures on the way. 
 
 First a bee flew over, very near her head. 
 This frightened her terribly. She hfted her 
 wings, held one over her head to protect it, and 
 crouched to avoid the attack she seemed to ex- 
 pect. Then she turned and twisted, ran a few 
 steps, and at last shrieked loudly for some one 
 to come, not seeing that the bee had gone on 
 about its business and was out of sight. 
 
 n 
 
 Polly was afraid of everything. If a fly 
 buzzed past her, she ducked her head as if she 
 had been hit ; and when a pair of robins came 
 near, engaged in a dispute about something, she 
 went almost mad with fright. She ran to the 
 pole which held the star, climbed it rapidly with 
 beak and claws, perched on the tiptop, bowed 
 and spread her wings wide, then lifted them 
 above her head like a shield. This time she did 
 not squawk, but she was in great terror. 
 
 Next day she had the pleasure of scaring a 
 
70 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 robin. She was on a side-bar of the arbor when 
 one of these birds aHghted on the opposite side. 
 In her alarm madam bowed and called out, 
 " Poor PoUy ! " as i£ to introduce herself. The 
 robin stared an instant in amazement at this 
 unbirdlike performance, and then flew. 
 
 Polly was not unHke some boys. She was a 
 tyrant and a bully with those who feared her, 
 and a dastardly coward with those who did not 
 fear her. The least bird, coming into the cherry- 
 tree, — a tiny yellow warbler, or a minute 
 creeper not so big as her head, — startled her 
 half out of her wits. She would drive the half- 
 grown chickens all round the yard, so long as 
 they ran ; but the instant one of the chickens 
 stood and faced her, she turned herself and ran, 
 squawking as if for life. 
 
 There was never a droller sight than her run- 
 ning down the length of the ridge board, — 
 which soon came to be her favorite promenade, 
 — holding her wings out and shaking them, and 
 squawking madly, stopping when she came to a 
 bunch of grapes not much bigger than pin-heads 
 to snip it ofE. 
 
 On one side of the arbor roof was the nest of 
 a chipping sparrow. We were interested to see 
 what she would do with it, and ready to inter- 
 fere if she should go too near. 
 
POLLY'S OUTING 71 
 
 The chipping sparrow, however, was a wise 
 little mother ; she did not need our help. As 
 soon as the cockatoo came near, the small bird 
 appeared before her, fluttering as if afraid, and 
 PoUy at once advanced toward her. The ques- 
 tion of whether she should drive or be driven 
 was always decided by the actions of her op- 
 ponent. 
 
 So Polly ran, bowing and squawking, with 
 crest up and her war frenzy on, while the cunning 
 sparrow fluttered along, dragging her wings, 
 and keeping well out of the large bird's reach 
 until she had led her far enough. Then she 
 sHpped behind some leaves and returned to her 
 nest, leaving Madam Polly staring in blank 
 amazement, plainly wondering where that bird 
 had gone. 
 
 The cockatoo had very decided opinions about 
 the family. With the son of the house she was 
 generally at war ; she often bit him, and was 
 always ready to show fight. 
 
 With her mistress she was on her good be- 
 havior, for she recognized her as the lawgiver 
 for pets, and the locker-up of cages ; she obeyed 
 her more readily than any other person. 
 
 But her darling was the master, who let her 
 do as she hked, and petted and coddled her al- 
 ways. On his knee she would sit an hour at a 
 
72 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 time, perfectly quiet, satisfied to be near him. 
 For him she would sing her droll little wheedling 
 song. To his room she would go, when some- 
 times she got out of her cage in the morning, 
 and tap on the door to be let ia. He was al- 
 ways her refuge in terror or distress. 
 
 There was nothing PoUy disliked so much as 
 to be left alone. If she were locked in her 
 cage, she made the air ring with calls and cries, 
 and if loose — even though reveling in mis- 
 chief — she flew down and waddled across the 
 grass — though she hated walking on the ground 
 — to the always open door, and hurried in so as 
 to be near somebody. 
 
 One pleasure PoUy discovered that was not 
 mischief, and only one ; it was swinging. She 
 liked to seize with both feet a long, hanging 
 twig, and, by flapping her wings, keep herself 
 in violent motion. Thus she often swung back 
 and forth for a long time, hanging back down 
 in an attitude that most birds greatly dislike. 
 
 Five months of fun Polly had in the country, 
 and then, with the family's return home, her 
 summer outing was over. 
 
THE GOLDEN GOOSE 
 
 I 
 
 Foe many years there lived in my house a 
 little bird, an English goldfinch, whose vaga- 
 ries were very amusing to the household. His 
 supreme desire was for a friend, or an object to 
 which he might devote himself. 
 
 Out of every family that lived in the Bird Room 
 he selected the one he preferred, and then lav- 
 ished upon that one his love, and attentions that 
 were often funny, but sometimes pathetic. The 
 beloved object was always larger than himself, 
 always unresponsive, and once really cross to him. 
 
 I have told the story of his afEection for a 
 scarlet tanager, and his admiration of the antics 
 of a blackbird. I will now tell of his devotion 
 to a golden oriole. 
 
 This oriole, who had come from Europe, was 
 never anything in my house but a great, stupid, 
 lumpish fellow. No doubt his experiences at the 
 hands of man had soured him past cure, and he 
 may have been intelligent enough in his native 
 land, but he was not to be won by all the kind- 
 
74 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 ness that was lavished upon him. He flew into 
 as mad a panic after six months of gentle treat- 
 ment as he did on the first day. 
 
 I saw no signs of intelligence, and I could not 
 gain his confidence. A pining, unhappy cap- 
 tive wrings my heart, but a stupid one repels 
 me, and the name which seemed naturally to 
 belong to this bird was " Goose." 
 
 Not that anything was impHed derogatory to 
 the real goose, for I have great regard for that 
 bird, and a genuine respect for her intelhgence ; 
 but the golden oriole was what we commonly 
 call " a goose," that is, a little less than idiotic 
 — not quite a downright fool. 
 
 At first he refused to eat ; for a week I thought 
 he would starve himself. Mockingbird food of 
 the freshest was before him all the time, fruits 
 of several kinds, lettuce, and everything I could 
 think of to tempt his appetite, but not one thing 
 would he even look at, excepting meal-worms. 
 Of those wriggling creatures he would eat twenty 
 in a day, perhaps more. Though I gave him as 
 many as I dared, they did not satisfy him. 
 
 At last, one day when I was out, he fell to eat- 
 ing the bird food, emptied the dish in an hour, 
 and after that I could hardly keep him supplied. 
 
 His hunger appeased, he wanted nothing more, 
 except a perch on which to sit crouched down 
 
THE GOLDEN GOOSE 75 
 
 upon his toes all day. For the room and its 
 inmates he cared not the least. 
 
 A bird that shows no curiosity about a place 
 so new to him as a room is usually of a low 
 order of intelligence. There is nothing so unin- 
 teresting in a Bird Room, or out of it either, for 
 that matter, as one who takes what comes and 
 says nothing and shows no interest. 
 
 I want my birds to talk and notice things. I 
 may not always understand them, but since they 
 have not learned "society manners," they act 
 out their feehngs naturally, and close watching 
 for a long time makes one expert in translating 
 this language of expression. 
 
 In spite of my efforts, I could not feel much 
 interest in this stranger. He was a beauty, 
 larger than a robin, and pure lemon in color all 
 over. He had no tail, but I knew nature would 
 supply one, and I waited. 
 
 From the hour of the golden oriole's arrival 
 in the room, the goldfinch was strongly attracted 
 to him. As soon as he was placed in his new 
 quarters the little bird went over, alighted on a 
 perch close to his wires, and after a few moments' 
 study of the stranger, began to talk to him in a 
 low chatter. 
 
 The " goose " paid no heed to him. Then 
 the goldfinch went a step further and began to 
 
76 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 sing. It was quite different from his usual loud, 
 careless song, being low and sweet, uttered with 
 wings held sKghtly out and body turning from 
 side to side, while his eyes were fixed upon the 
 oriole. 
 
 It was curious and pecuhar, and not at all the 
 way in which he had treated either of his former 
 friends. 
 
 The oriole could not help noticing this, and 
 evidently did not know what to make of it. He 
 became uneasy, and after fidgeting about on his 
 perch he dropped to the floor, where he stood 
 and stared blankly at his small serenader. Soon, 
 however, he grew accustomed to the attentions 
 and took them as a matter of course — as wiser 
 folk will sometimes do. 
 
 II 
 
 From that day the goldfinch spent more than 
 half his time before the shrine of his idol. He 
 bathed in a hurry, and performed his toilet as 
 quickly as he could, for he never dressed his 
 feathers in the presence of the oriole. He took 
 his meals in a sort of picnic style, going to his 
 own cage for every seed, and returning to his 
 usual seat to shell and eat it. 
 
 What there was interesting about the big, 
 
THE GOLDEN GOOSE 77 
 
 yellow bird who sat like a wooden image on the 
 lowest perch close by the food dish, I could 
 never guess; but the goldfinch seemed to be 
 naturally social, and pining for companionship. 
 
 There was another one that I know of, who, 
 while he was alone, allowed his plumage to get 
 very rough, and took almost no care of himself ; 
 but as soon as another bird was put into his 
 cage, he fell at once to bathing and dressing his 
 feathers, till he was in perfect order. Then he 
 devoted himself to his new friend with eager- 
 ness. 
 
 A funny scene took place between my gold- 
 finch and another bird one summer. The stranger 
 was an American goldfinch, in his fall dress of 
 olive and black, who, for safe keeping till a cage 
 was brought, was put into the private apartment 
 of my bird, and the door shut. 
 
 The cage owner received his visitor hospitably, 
 chatted with him, allowed him to enjoy the 
 comforts of the cage, the seed and water, and 
 even his choice and limited dainty — the hemp 
 seed scattered over the gravel. 
 
 All day long this amiable state of things 
 lasted, but when bedtime came, there was a 
 change. The guest wished to retire, of course, 
 and also, of course, no place would do but the 
 top perch. 
 
78 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 At this point, however, his host drew the 
 hne. He could share his food and water, his 
 cage, and even his beloved hemp seed, but to 
 allow a stranger upon his private sleeping-perch 
 was too much. He turned suddenly so savage 
 that the poor little newcomer was obUged to 
 retreat. 
 
 To sleep on a low perch with any one else 
 higher is repugnant to the very soul of a bird. 
 The stranger plucked up spirit, and a struggle 
 took place. Indeed, to restore peace the Amer- 
 ican had finally to be removed. 
 
 No such trouble arose with the golden oriole ; 
 he did not care where anybody slept, but it was 
 soon plain that he was not exempt from the com- 
 mon lot ; he had his own sore trial. He had 
 determined not to allow his tail to grow, for 
 what reason I cannot imagine. The instant a 
 tiny quill showed itself, with its lovely yellow 
 feather folded inside, the bearer went to work to 
 remove it. It was hard work, but he twisted 
 himself almost into a knot, and pulled and 
 tugged till he got it out, and then — utterly 
 exhausted — laid his head back on its feather 
 pillow and took a nap. 
 
 I gave him meat according to bird-book direc- 
 tions ; I changed his food ; I did aU I could 
 think of, but he kept up this bad habit all winter. 
 
THE GOLDEN GOOSE 79 
 
 and I began to fear we should never see him 
 with a tail. 
 
 We never did, in fact, although as spring 
 came on nature roused herself for a grand efEort, 
 and sent out five or six feathers at once. Now, 
 I thought, the stupid fellow will be discouraged, 
 and the tail will grow. 
 
 He was discouraged. After hours of the 
 hardest labor he gave it up — but he gave up 
 his life, too. Since he could not have his will, 
 he seemed to lose what little interest he had 
 in life, and one day he went to sleep never to 
 wake. 
 
 No one grieved except the goldfinch, for the 
 bird was so unhappy no one could wish to have 
 him live. The little bird hung around the cage 
 for a while quite dazed by his loss, and evidently 
 expecting, or at least hoping, some morning to 
 see again his dearly beloved golden goose. 
 
THE SAUCY OKIOLE 
 
 I 
 
 The Baltimore oriole is so gorgeous in dress, 
 so charming of voice, ^nd so strongly individual 
 in his ways, that his modest little spouse slips 
 through life by his side almost unnoticed. Yet 
 she is a not unworthy mate ; her dress, though 
 subdued, is more pleasing than his, her individ- 
 uality is quite as marked, and she, too, can sing. 
 
 A pair of orioles that spent one winter in my. 
 Bird Room were very entertaining, and the little 
 madam was the most saucy creature I ever saw 
 in feathers. She was a ridiculous object as to 
 plumage, being featherless on the head and with- 
 out a sign of a tail ; but never was an oriole 
 long depressed by a little matter of that kind ; 
 she was just as self-possessed and as dignified as 
 if she had been the queen of the whole feathered 
 world. 
 
 Her first effort in my room was to establish 
 her right to a bath whenever and wherever she 
 chose to take it. The very first morning, while 
 the older residents were bathing, and every bath- 
 
THE SAUCY ORIOLE 81 
 
 tub was occupied, she made up her mind to go 
 in. Nothing daunted by size, she picked out 
 the biggest bird in the room to dispossess. It 
 was a blue jay, whose bathing-dish was on the 
 floor. 
 
 A droll figure she made when she went down 
 to drive him out. She was not a quarter his 
 size, and looked — without a tail — about as big 
 as a wren. She ahghted on the edge of his dish ; 
 but when the big fellow stopped splashing and 
 stood up in the water, looking quite able to eat 
 her, his warlike crest rising and his large eyes 
 fixed upon the intruder, she did not quite dare to 
 insist. 
 
 Her next choice was more fortunate. She went 
 to the table where a Brazihan cardinal, consider- 
 ably bigger than herself, was bathing, drove him 
 away, and stepped into the water herself. 
 
 She began her bath like any other bird, by 
 thrusting her head in the water, but after one dip 
 she lifted it high and flapped her wings vigor- 
 ously, getting so wet that when she attempted to 
 fly up to her cage, she fell to the floor instead. 
 That did not disturb her, for she knew very well 
 the use of a ladder that ran up to the cages for 
 the benefit of disabled birds, and she delighted 
 to hop up and down its rounds. 
 
 While the oriole was herself almost a stranger, 
 
82 TKUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 an American robin came to live in the room. 
 He looked so big among orioles and tanagers and 
 bluebirds, that nearly every one gave him a wide 
 berth. 
 
 Not so did my saucy little oriole. When he 
 came out of his cage and took refuge on the top 
 of it, .while he looked about to see what sort of 
 a place he had got into, madam flew over and 
 aHghted beside him. 
 
 In robin fashion of showing hostility he hopped 
 six inches into the air, then turned his beak 
 toward her and ran at her. She met him with 
 open mouth, daring him to come on. At three 
 inches' distance he stopped and snapped his big 
 beak. She bowed, which was her way of show- 
 ing fight, perked up the tail-coverts in Heu of a 
 tail, and did not budge an inch. Two or three 
 times the robin ran at her, and every time her 
 significant bows and determined air warned him 
 off, till at last he left the cage altogether. 
 
 The next day, during a domestic breeze, — for 
 matters were not yet harmoniously settled at 
 home, — her cage-mate chased the httle oriole and 
 she took refuge in the robin's cage. The owner 
 was at home, and disconcerted by the sudden call, 
 gave a cry and flew out. In a moment he re- 
 gretted his hasty action, and came back to his 
 own roof, whence madam quickly drove him by 
 
BALTIMORE ORIOLE 
 
THE SAUCY ORIOLE 83 
 
 pecking his toes. He then dropped to his door- 
 perch, and went into the cage. 
 
 The intruder sat cahnly on the perch, utterly 
 unconcerned at his presence. He hopped about 
 uneasily, went to the middle perch, glanced above 
 at her, then jumped down, aU the time uttering a 
 low cry. Several times he thrust his head out of 
 the door as if to go, then drew back, apparently 
 thinking it cowardly to desert his own quarters. 
 But after half a dozen feints he did go, leaving 
 her in possession. 
 
 II 
 
 A female Virginia cardinal, with a strong will 
 of her own, was the next bird that the saucy 
 oriole molested. When the impertinent visitor 
 alighted beside her in her own cage, the cardinal 
 drew herself up very straight, raised her crest, 
 and opened her big beak. The interloper bowed 
 and snatched at her, plainly trying to seize her 
 tongue, and once she did catch the lower man- 
 dible. 
 
 For a moment the Virginian evidently hesi- 
 tated as to the manner of meeting this sort of 
 insult. She shut her mouth, and drew herself 
 up again with dignity, but soon afterward she 
 flew across the room. 
 
 Elated by her success with his mate, the oriole 
 
84 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 next tried her tactics on the cardinal himself, a 
 serious-minded personage, who never descended 
 to personalities with any one — except his spouse. 
 
 She cornered him upon a perch, followed him 
 along, as he moved off to avoid her, till he could 
 go no farther, and then, as he opened his mouth 
 at her, she snatched at his tongue. 
 
 He shut his beak, and she gave him a sharp 
 peck in the side. He was furious ; his crest stood 
 up, his wings quivered, but he did not touch her, 
 nor would he fly. Another time she reKeved the 
 scarlet tanager of a meal-worm he was preparing 
 to eat by coolly snatching it out of his mouth. 
 
 Never were birds so curious and interested in 
 their surroundings as the two orioles. They 
 investigated every corner of the room, lifted 
 papers to peep under them, pulled towels about 
 to see what was hidden by them, pried open 
 books, crept between the slats of a blind, went all 
 over their neighbors' cages on the outside, climb- 
 ing on the wires and pulling out apple or other 
 fruit and dropping it to the floor. 
 
 They were always fond of climbing, and hang- 
 ing head down was a favorite attitude. 
 
 They liked also to use their sharp beaks ; if 
 one of them could get one toe into a torn place 
 in the wall-paper, he — or she — would hang on 
 and pick holes in it. 
 
THE SAUCY ORIOLE 85 
 
 Giving up a thing he has set his heart on never 
 occurs to an oriole. One of mine took it into 
 his naughty head to occupy his neighbor's wire 
 apartment. I drove him out ; I caught him in 
 my hand and took him out ; I removed food and 
 -water, and still he would come back. 
 
 When he saw that I noticed his flying to the 
 door-perch, and was instantly ready to scare him 
 off, he tried another way of approach. He 
 climbed around on the wires from the back, and 
 tried to steal in so quietly that I would not notice 
 him — as I could tell by his glances at me. I 
 drove him off, and then he tried another way. 
 He came quietly up the ladder, looked over at 
 me, and then slipped silently through the door. 
 
 I had a fine chance to learn the unconquerable 
 persistence of the oriole, for till the day of his 
 liberation he never gave up trying to occupy his 
 neighbor's house. 
 
 When spring came and the Baltimore began 
 to sing, and when his little cage-mate had been 
 made beautiful by a complete suit of feathers and 
 a tail as long as his own, they went their way 
 into the big world outside the windows, and 
 I saw no more of my charming but saucy httle 
 oriole. 
 
ANTICS IN THE BIRD EOOM 
 
 Birds have many queer ways when one can 
 watch them closely, as I could in my Bird Room. 
 In taking exercise, for example, no two do it in 
 the same way. 
 
 The Brazilian cardinal turned perfect summer- 
 sets. Standing on one end of his cage roof, he 
 would suddenly spring into the air as if he were 
 going through the ceihng. Just before touching 
 it, he would turn completely over, so that for one 
 instant his feet were toward the wall and his back 
 toward the floor. At this point his wings were 
 flat against his sides, and his body curved so that 
 his head and tail pointed toward the floor. Then, 
 without opening the wings, he passed down again, 
 turning as he went, and aUghted right side up at 
 the other, end of his cage. 
 
 •This prank was played so rapidly that I could 
 not follow it perfectly with my eyes, all through, 
 and to see how he held himself at the point where 
 he turned, I had to fix my eyes on that point and 
 not try to follow his flight up and back. 
 
 This particular antic delighted the cardinal 
 
CARDINAL 
 
ANTICS IN THE BIRD ROOM 87 
 
 SO much that he often kept it up an hour at a 
 time. 
 
 Another bird I had, danced. This was a sky- 
 lark. He would come out only when his cage 
 was put on the floor, and then he went around 
 the edge of the room half flying, half running, 
 taking mincing little steps, and waving his wings 
 at the same time. It was a graceful, fairy-like 
 dance. 
 
 Still another inmate of the Bird Eoom used to 
 fly across the room from one side to the other 
 and plant his two feet squarely against the wall 
 on each side. He did it very swiftly, and did 
 not pause a second, but he did it with so much 
 force that it sounded like a knock. 
 
 Sometimes a bird will prefer to exercise in his 
 cage, and then he flies madly around his perches, 
 over and under and behind and around them, 
 hardly touching them with the tips of his toes, 
 and looking every minute as i£ he would bang 
 himself against the wires, but he never does. 
 Most birds simply fly about the room with more 
 or less fury. 
 
BLIZZARD 
 
 Blizzard we named her ; not because that 
 rough, unpleasant name particularly well suited 
 the demure little damsel in dusty brown who 
 came to live with us, but for the reason that she 
 came in with the blizzard that tossed and tumbled, 
 and half buried New York, on that famous Mon- 
 day of March, claiming our hospitalities against 
 the inhospitable world of wind and snow outside. 
 How she got into the house is stiU a mystery. 
 Mamma thought she must have come down the 
 chimney and through the stovepipe, but it is 
 hard to believe that a bird, however distressed, 
 would venture into a long, dark tunnel Uke that, 
 not knowing where it might end. 
 
 It seems more likely that when some one opened 
 a door to go out, and was met by a wild sweep 
 of the gale, and a dash of fine, sharp snow in 
 his face, that half blinded him, poor little Bliz- 
 zard flew in with it ; perhaps because she saw 
 warmth and comfort inside, or possibly just 
 because she was blown in and could not help her- 
 self. 
 
BLIZZAED 89 
 
 However it came about, there she was, bright 
 and pert as a sparrow can be, and plainly de- 
 lighted to get out of the storm. She rebelled at 
 being caught, and even bit savagely at her cap- 
 tor, but in spite of that she was taken upstairs 
 to a warm, snug room and set free, where we 
 thought she would be safe, for Blizzard was not 
 the only guest in the house. 
 
 There was first, Elizabeth, the cat, who hked 
 nothing better than tender young sparrow for 
 breakfast, and knew well how to get it, too ; and 
 Napoleon, the dog, who made it his particular 
 duty to guard the household from all four-footed 
 and feathered enemies; and worse, — for those 
 two could be shut out of the room, — there was 
 Laura. 
 
 Laura was a parrot of high degree and beauti- 
 ful manners, dressed in several shades of green, 
 with a gay yellow cap, and a dash of rose-color 
 on her wing. She did not at all know what to 
 think of this vagabond of the street, whose vul- 
 gar antics she was accustomed to watch through 
 the windows only. She turned her aristocratic 
 head on one side, fixed one large red eye on the 
 plebeian, and plainly did not altogether approve 
 of her for a companion. 
 
 But Blizzard had no scruples ; she was not in 
 the least afraid of her high-mightiness; in fact, 
 
90 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 she never saw the bird she was afraid of, and she 
 assumed the aggressive herself. 
 
 For some moments the two stared at each other, 
 head feathers erected and all bristled up for war ; 
 then suddenly, with a keen appreciation of the 
 advantage of taking the initiative, the sparrow 
 made a dash at Laura, and passed just over her 
 head without pausing. 
 
 That insulted bird started, and gave a violent 
 snap of her big beak, just too late to touch her 
 lively enemy. Again and again was this perform- 
 ance repeated, the saucy street ruf&an swooping 
 down as if to annihilate the stately parrot, and 
 that bird every time surprised out of her dignity, 
 startled, snapping her bill, trying to seize her 
 tormentor. 
 
 At length Blizzard tired of this amusement, 
 and proceeded to show contempt of her room- 
 mate in a new way, by alighting on the perch 
 beside her. The perch was three or four feet 
 long, and the size of a broomstick. 
 
 Laura, sitting calm and composed at one end, 
 was suddenly shocked by the sparrow dropping 
 down upon it about four inches from her seat. 
 In a moment, after one look of horror and disgust, 
 down went Laura's head, and off she started 
 hand over hand, as parrots walk, beak wide open, 
 to seize her disreputable foe. 
 
BLIZZARD 91 
 
 The graceless upstart simply hopped back a 
 step or two. Laura followed, snapped again, and 
 again the sparrow retreated. Thus they passed 
 down the length of the perch, and when they 
 reached the end, Blizzard hopped over the back 
 of her clumsy pursuer, came down the other side, 
 and led her back in the same impertinent way. 
 
 There was one droll sort of dance that Laura 
 indulged in that seemed to amuse, or at least to 
 interest Blizzard, for while it was going on she 
 stood still in her turn, and looked at every move- 
 ment. The excitement was produced by scraping 
 a crumpled newspaper over the matting. 
 
 What it suggested to the parrot, no one could 
 guess, but the instant it began she erected her 
 feathers, spread her tail like a fan, expanded 
 her wings, put her beak down and rubbed the 
 upper edge of it along the floor, while she 
 walked round and round, toeing in, and always 
 ploughing the matting with her big bill. This 
 curious movement she kept up without pause so 
 long as the noise was continued. 
 
 An eating-place was set up for the storm 
 refugee on the window-sash, and bread and water 
 provided for her comfort. The water she ac- 
 cepted with thanks, but she soon discovered that 
 Laura's now vacant cage contained a dainty more 
 to her taste — a large, square cracker. This she 
 
92 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 pecked at eagerly, first standing outside and 
 putting her head between the wires ; but finding 
 this inconvenient, after looking about on every 
 side, and scorning the open door as a probable 
 trap, she shpped between the wires and helped 
 herself freely, hammering the cracker to bits and 
 scattering crumbs all over the floor, while the 
 owner of the cage observed with displeasure the 
 disorderly manners of her small neighbor. 
 
 II 
 
 After enduring the sparrow's performances 
 awhde, Laura went home, and the door was shut. 
 
 We were sure she could guard her food, for 
 she was a bird of spirit herself, and not used to 
 being imposed upon. To the ladies of the family 
 she was very gracious, readily accepting a finger 
 for a perch, and kissing and behaving in a charm- 
 ing manner, but I regret to say that to the gen- 
 tlemen she was very different. 
 
 Whether she had been teased till her temper 
 was soured toward the sex, no one knew, but from 
 the smallest boy to the biggest man she detested 
 the whole race. 
 
 On the approach of the son of the household, 
 aged six, she invariably seized the edge of her 
 seed dish, and shook it so violently that seeds 
 
BLIZZARD 93 
 
 were scattered all over the floor ; if his hand came 
 near, she bit it, and sometimes she flew at his 
 face, screaming and chattering with fiuy. 
 
 Blizzard did not approve of the new arrange- 
 ment, but cracker she was bound to have ; and 
 after a few cautious advances, holding herself 
 ready for instant flight, she grew careless, and 
 plainly made up her mind that Laura was far too 
 slow to catch so very wide-awake a personage as 
 herself. 
 
 So once more she slipped through, and busied 
 herself on the floor within six inches of her big 
 neighbor, getting even so bold as to snatch at 
 Laura's tail when it hung in her way. 
 
 For some time the parrot looked on, with wise 
 head turned over one side, and BHzzard became 
 perfectly indifferent, when at last the long^sufFer- 
 ing bird leaned over and snatched up the intrud- 
 ing scapegrace by the back. 
 
 Had it been the head, this would be the end 
 of the poor sparrow's story, but the feathers are 
 thick on the back. Blizzard screamed at the top 
 of her voice, the family ran into the room, and 
 the bird escaped, leaving a mouthful of feathers 
 with Laura. 
 
 This experience subdued the street gamin for 
 a while, and she retired to the top of the window- 
 casing to recover from her fright and investigate 
 
94 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 the damage to her draperies, while Laura sat 
 bridling in her cage, saying " Cr-r-r — cr-r-r " in 
 a low but evidently crowing tone, as if meaning, 
 " There, miss ! how do you like that ? Perhaps 
 you 'U keep out of my house ! " 
 
 As it began to grow dark, Blizzard prepared 
 for the night, and in the way one might expect 
 from a sparrow. There was no elaborate dress- 
 ing of plumage, removing of the day's dust, and 
 drawing each soft feather in place for the night ; 
 she simply laid in an extra supply of provisions 
 — fairly stufPed herself, tiU we were alarmed. 
 
 Perhaps, poor thing, it was not from greedi- 
 ness, but because she had a dim feeling that 
 this unusual warmth and abundance might be a 
 dream, and that she should wake up to find every- 
 thing covered with snow and no food to be had, 
 and so it was the part of wisdom to fill herself 
 while it lasted ; plenty of wisdom of a certain 
 sort abode in that small, brown head. 
 
 Whatever the reason, she did eat an enormous 
 supper, and then retired to the place she had first 
 selected as her private retreat — on top of the 
 window frame. 
 
 There she composed herself, and nothing was 
 heard from her till morning ; but alas, we forgot 
 the early-rising habits of the sparrow's family. 
 Laura, used to life in a house, never stirred a 
 
BLIZZARD 95 
 
 feather till other people got up, but this street 
 vagrant began with the first streak of light to fly- 
 around the room, to ask for breakfast, to stir up 
 Laura, and to disturb things generally. In fact, 
 she made herself so disagreeable that it was 
 resolved to turn her out to care for herself. 
 
 Meanwhile the snow and wind had been hav- 
 ing it aU their own way out of doors. Great 
 drifts were piled up against the windows, the 
 sidewalks were lost, and even the street looked 
 like mountain-chains on a small scale. 
 
 No one thought of going out of the house, for 
 the first step from the door plunged one into a 
 snowdrift over his head. Nothing could be done 
 toward clearing it away tiU the snow stopped fall- 
 ing, or the frolicsome wind ceased playing tricks 
 with it, and building a wild country up in the 
 middle of the city. So no one went out, horses 
 stood in their stables, and not a sparrow showed 
 a feather outside. 
 
 This day Blizzard was fuller of pranks than 
 ever, and there was not a bit of mischief that 
 little brain could contrive that failed to be done. 
 
 The last of her tricks, which almost had a sad 
 ending for herself and us, was to set the house 
 on fire. Actually, with engines snowed into their 
 houses, streets filled with mountains of loose, dry 
 snow, and hydrants all out of sight under them, 
 
96 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 that incorrigible rascal picked a match from the 
 matchsaf e, carried it ofE under the bed, and prob- 
 ably pounded the end to see if the httle brown 
 knob was good to eat. 
 
 However she did it, she flew up suddenly, and 
 in a moment there was an odor of burning. 
 Fortunately some one was in the room, or we 
 should no doubt in a few minutes have been all 
 afire, for there in the crack between the breadths 
 of matting the match was brightly burning. The 
 matting itself was already afire, and a nice little 
 bonfire would have c&rried us all ofE in smoke, if 
 no one had been there to put it out. 
 
 That settled Miss Blizzard's fate, and as soon 
 as the sun came out, a window was opened, and 
 away she went out into the white world to join 
 the army of feathered tramps to which she be- 
 longed. 
 
THREE SPAEROWS THAT LIVE IN A 
 HOUSE 
 
 I 
 
 I KNOW a house in Brooklyn which is a sort 
 of bird's hospital, where are living more birds 
 than people, and where all wounded and suffer- 
 ing feathered creatures find shelter and comfort. 
 
 While I am writing this story, there are, 
 among the other birds, three English sparrows, 
 street birds that had been hurt, and rescued from 
 cats and cruel boys, and taken care of till they 
 were well. 
 
 One of these birds is sentimental. He wants 
 to be coddled all the time. He is so grateful 
 for his comfortable home that he is unhappy if 
 he cannot be with one of the family who have 
 been so kind to him. 
 
 Most tame birds are satisfied if they can perch 
 on a shoulder or arm of the person they like, 
 but not so this sparrow. He wants to be held 
 in a warm hand, or snuggled up within the arm, 
 and he is so determined to get into his favorite 
 place that when the family want to do something 
 
98 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 besides hold a bird, they have to roll him up in 
 a shawl and lay him in a snug corner of bed or 
 chair. 
 
 The thing he lites best of all is to be taken into 
 bed, and he cannot fly to go there himself. So 
 in the early morning, long before any one, except 
 a bird, wants to get up or even to be wakened, 
 he win begin his loud squawks, and never stop 
 tiU one of his kind mistresses gets up, takes him 
 in her hand, and holds him shut up in it under 
 her cheek. There he is happy and stiU, and she 
 can sleep as long as she hkes. Did ever a bird 
 have so droll a sleeping-place ? 
 
 The second queer sparrow was almost dead 
 when brought in from the street. He recovered 
 his health entirely, but he, too, can never fly, so 
 he is obliged to live in a house. This bird is 
 not sentimental — far from it ! he is very fond 
 of eating, perhaps even a little greedy. And 
 besides being fond of his dinner, he seems to like 
 a joke. 
 
 He always insists on going to meals, for he 
 understands the dinner-bell as well as any one. 
 He squawks and calls and makes a commotion till 
 he is carried to the table and set down upon it. 
 Then he runs about, tastes everything, makes up 
 his mind what he likes best, and eats as much 
 as he wants of it. 
 
'*^'--». 
 
 
 lUmiisQ.puirrUj. 
 
 ENGLISH SPARROW 
 
THREE SPARROWS IN A HOUSE 99 
 
 He is fond of a joke, as I said, and he shows it 
 in this way: the thing he likes best to eat is butter, 
 and after taking a bit, he always wants to wipe 
 his beak, as birds do. The place he chooses to 
 use for this purpose is the coat-sleeve of the head 
 of the family. Grease spots on the coat-sleeve 
 are too much for the most amiable man to endure, 
 so the bird was early made to understand he must 
 not do it, but must use the tablecloth or the 
 edge of a dish. 
 
 The clever bird knew what was meant, for this 
 family talk so much to their pets that they learn 
 to understand a great deal. They seem to know 
 perfectly well what is said to them, and what they 
 must not do. The English sparrow is one of 
 the sharpest witted of birds, and he plainly under- 
 stood — as his manner showed — that he must 
 not use a coat-sleeve for a napkin. 
 
 But EngHsh sparrows have no notion of giv- 
 ing up anything they hke, and this one is not 
 only obstinate like his fellows, but has a spice 
 of mischief besides. So now, while taking his 
 meals as usual with the family, he slyly watches 
 his chance. When the coat-wearer is particularly 
 busy and has forgotten for a moment to be on 
 guard, the saucy bird will thrust his beak into 
 ■ the butter, hop silently but quickly to the cov- 
 eted sleeve, wipe the beak, and dash away before 
 
100 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 he can be touched, and then perhaps chuckle 
 over the joke the rest of the day. 
 
 n 
 
 The third sparrow living in this house is, how- 
 ever, the most astonishing one. In this protected 
 home, where food and drink never fail and no 
 work is needed to secure them, where street fun 
 and street dangers and domestic affairs and all 
 other sources of work or play are denied him, he 
 has turned his active mind to the improvement 
 of his talents, and with two canaries for com- 
 panions, has learned their song. 
 
 I spent some hours in the house one day for 
 the purpose of hearing this wonderful thing — 
 an English sparrow singing Uke a canary. He was 
 shy about showing off, but I kept very quiet in 
 the other parlor while his mistress coaxed him 
 with talk and piano music to sing. Before long, 
 finding himself unable to resist, he dropped the 
 ordinary street squawks, with which he had been 
 regaling us, long enough to sing several times. 
 He poured out with great freedom aU the 
 warbles and quavers of the canary song, includ- 
 ing a remarkable trill, and he did it better 
 than the canaries who taught him, because his 
 natural voice is better than theirs, being richer 
 
THREE SPARROWS IN A HOUSE 101 
 
 and fuller, and not so shrill. One who heard 
 him without seeing him would never think of 
 the singer being anything but an unusually fine 
 singer of the canary family. 
 
 Think of it ! a common wild Enghsh sparrow, 
 saved from a violent death in March, and by 
 October singing a fellow captive's song better 
 than he can sing it himself. Perhaps this accom- 
 plished bird, if sent out into the streets as a mis- 
 sionary, might teach the others to do the same. 
 We could forgive the English sparrows a good 
 deal i£ they would fill our streets with song. 
 
 When at last I had to leave the house, I went 
 into the back parlor where the bird Kves, with- 
 out canaries at present, in a cage among house 
 plants in a sunny window, and looked at him. 
 Plenty of food and water, and no struggle for 
 Ufe in the dust of the street, have given his coat 
 rich and pure coloring, so that he is really as 
 beautiful as it is possible for one of his tribe to be. 
 Nothing less than seeing him could convince me 
 that the fine song I had heard could have come 
 from a common English sparrow. 
 
DOCTOE DOT 
 
 1 
 
 Dot was the roundest, the funniest, and the 
 wisest chicken that ever lived in a house, and 
 she never was in the least afraid of anybody. 
 For a while after she was adopted into the family 
 she ate only bread and milk, and then varied 
 this baby food with crumbs from the table, with 
 now and then a fly which was careless enough 
 to alight near her. 
 
 She delighted to be on the table when the 
 family were eating. She would run from one to 
 another, cocking her wise little head on one side, 
 and accepting a crumb of bread or a bit of 
 potato from each one. But as she grew bigger, 
 and made experiments for herself, such as taking 
 a nip of the butter, hopping up on to the platter 
 and getting her feet into the gravy, a law had to 
 be made that Miss Dot must take her meals 
 alone. 
 
 Her greatest treat in these early days was to be 
 put up on the window frame, in the middle where 
 the two sashes meet, there to hunt flies, which 
 
DOCTOR DOT 103 
 
 delight in that spot. She would run after a fly 
 as eagerly as any of her cousins on the ground, 
 and would often be so heedless as to fall off, so 
 that Ella, her little mistress, had to stand by her 
 while on that dangerous elevation, lest she should 
 fall and break her neck. 
 
 As she grew bigger, Ella decided that although 
 Dot was very well for a pet name, it was hardly 
 dignified enough for so important a personage 
 as she had become. After much thought it 
 was enlarged into Dorothea Daniel Davidson, the 
 latter after the uncle who presented her to Ella. 
 She was usually called Dot, or D. D., or Doctor 
 (which D. D. stands for, you know), and at last, 
 in this way, the name Doctor Dot became pretty 
 well fastened upon her. It was rather a queer 
 name, to be sure, but Dorothea did not care; she 
 would answer to any one of the whole list. 
 
 It might have been rather lonely for one poor 
 little chick in a house full of big people, but she 
 was not alone ; she had one special playmate, 
 Mother Bunch, and plenty of neighbors besides. 
 The most important of these was Abercrombie 
 Fitz Plantagenet, the cat, who lived in a basket 
 that hung from the gas fixture, and was never 
 so happy as when her basket was set spinning by 
 some kind hand. 
 
 One would think this performance would have 
 
104 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 muddled her brains and made her a dizzy, topsy- 
 turvy good-foi"-nothing, but so far from that 
 she was one of the wisest and most clear-headed 
 of her race, as you might know from her name. 
 When not spinning around in her airy residence, 
 she would sit for hours on a chair by the window, 
 looking at the passers, and evidently closely 
 studying human nature. Should no chair be 
 properly placed, or should the bhnds be closed, 
 this wise cat — Cromie, as she was called for 
 "everyday" — would cry and mew, and puU some 
 one's dress, until the difficulty was remedied, when 
 she would take her seat with dignity and resume 
 her studies. 
 
 Very different from this stately dame was her 
 baby, the only one which survived a sudden 
 catastrophe in her last family, and was named 
 Mother Bunch because she was such a funny 
 bunch of a thing. 
 
 From the first, Mother Bunch and the Doctor 
 were the best of friends ; they played together 
 like two kittens. They would roU over and 
 over and run after one another ; the kitten would 
 slap and the chicken would nip. The Doctor 
 seemed determined to do everything that Mother 
 Bunch did, and in fact I think she was rather 
 ambitious to be a kitten herself. 
 
 When they were in the yard together, she 
 
DOCTOR DOT 105 
 
 would play with a bit of hanging clothes-line 
 as the kitten did, taking it in her mouth and 
 running around the post; and she made fran- 
 tic efEorts to climb the clothes-post after Mother 
 Bunch. 
 
 At first the Doctor would run from a rat or a 
 cat, but as they grew older and Mother Bunch 
 became bhnd, she seemed to know she was the 
 protector. A strange cat could no more than 
 show its head in the yard before Doctor Dot 
 flew at it with her mouth open, screaming as an 
 angry hen will. The intruder always quickly 
 decided to retire to a more quiet neighborhood. 
 
 Mother Bunch's favorite napping-place was 
 between the blinds and the window, and if she 
 found it closed, she would cry and tease till it 
 was opened for her. Dorothea always took her 
 place on pussy's back during the sleep, partly 
 perhaps to protect her, but a httle to indulge in 
 a nap herself. 
 
 She was fond of playing with children as she 
 saw the kitten doing. She would run after them 
 and snatch at their clothes, and once she drove 
 a little boy into a corner, and frightened him 
 half out of his wits by jumping at him as if she 
 would eat him up. 
 
 Doctor Dot always seemed to think the small 
 flower-bed in the yard was made for her amuse- 
 
106 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 ment. No sooner would a tiny plant show its 
 head above the ground than she would puU it up, 
 apparently for fun, or to see what it was doing 
 there, and she would scratch up the earth around 
 it to see if there were any more impertinent 
 little leaves around. The air with which she did 
 this was so comical that EUa could n't feel very 
 sorry about the flowers. 
 
 II 
 
 As time went on, it looked very funny to see 
 a hen about the house, though she was such a 
 small one, but she refused to be sent out of 
 the house to live. If she found the door shut 
 against her, she would get on to a window-sill 
 and peep and cry to be let in, till some kind 
 heart inside took pity and opened the way for 
 her. 
 
 All babies grow up, and now Dot was no 
 longer a chicken, but a full-grown bantam hen, 
 and her frolics with Mother Bunch were at an 
 end. New notions came into her head ; she 
 began to think it was high time she had a 
 nest like other hens. She grew uneasy, clucked 
 around like any old feathered matron, and teased 
 Ella till she fixed a box with a nice nest for her, 
 and into that Dot retired and laid her first egg. 
 
DOCTOR DOT 107 
 
 Such a cackling and clucking over one small 
 egg was never heard. So important and fussy 
 was Madam Dorothea that it was almost impos- 
 sible to hve with her. Egg after egg was laid 
 in that nest till she had enough to suit her ideas 
 of a family, and then she took to setting, in 
 regular poultry-yard fashion. When at last she 
 came off with ten chicks, the proudest mother in 
 the world, another decree went forth, that now 
 indeed Dorothea Daniel Davidson must live in a 
 house of her own in the yard. 
 
 So under a large pear-tree, in a pretty low- 
 roofed cottage with a lattice front, now went to 
 live Doctor Dot and her babies ten. She was so 
 much engrossed with her cares, so concerned for 
 the safety of those ten little feathery balls on 
 legs, that she never seemed to regret her change 
 of home. When the chicks grew too big to 
 sleep under their mother's wings, a larger house 
 was buUt, with perches and a door, and in that 
 the family were nicely accommodated. 
 
 One more cunning thing Dot did before she 
 settled down into the life of a common hen. 
 One night the coop door blew shut and she and 
 her family could not get in. It was cold, and 
 she longed for her comfortable roost inside, so 
 she came to the house for help. The door was 
 shut, but she flew up to the old window and 
 
108 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 tapped on the glass with her bill. Some o£ the 
 family, not seeing very well, were frightened a 
 little, but EUa knew her at once. 
 
 "Why, it's Dot!" she said. 
 
 She opened the window to let her in, but that 
 was not what Dot wanted. She pulled Ella's 
 dress and tried to draw her to the door. 
 
 " Perhaps she wants help," suggested one, and 
 EUa started out to see. She opened the door, 
 and Dot ran on ahead eagerly. Ella followed, 
 and she led directly to the shut-up coop, where 
 the whole bantam family were collected. No 
 sooner was the door opened than they all hurried 
 in, and in a few minutes were snugly asleep for 
 the night. 
 
BIEDS OUT OP DOOES 
 
MY FIEST BIED 
 
 Many years ago, when I was a schoolgirl, I 
 lived in an old-fashioned house away back from 
 the street, in the outskirts of a Western city. It 
 was before the English sparrows had come to 
 drive other birds away, and our own native birds 
 used to hve in town with us. Vireos sang from 
 morning till night in the trees that shaded the 
 streets ; Baltimore orioles swung their beautiful 
 cradles from the tall boughs of the elms; and 
 robins ran over the lawns without danger of hav- 
 ing their hard-got worms snatched out of their 
 mouths by the impudent foreign sparrows, as 
 they are now. 
 
 I knew nothing about birds, and was absorbed 
 in schoolbooks and music lessons and aU school- 
 day interests, but the first spring that we lived 
 in the old-fashioned place, one bird forced him- 
 self upon my attention, and he was the first I 
 ever noticed. 
 
 The grounds around the house were very large, 
 and halfway down to the front fence was an old 
 rustic arbor that was seldom visited. In or 
 
112 TRUE BIRD STORIES PROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 about that arbor somewhere, dwelt a bird with 
 his family, and every evening and half the night, 
 as it seems to me now, he sang to us. As soon 
 as it grew too dark to see plainly, the song began, 
 " Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor- 
 will ! " 
 
 Because it was too late to see to read, I used 
 to sit on the steps and Hsten, and think it the 
 loneHest bird song I ever heard, but I never saw 
 the singer. Though, as I have said, it was in 
 the edge of a city, with houses all around, so 
 common were birds about us then that no one 
 thought of disturbing him. It being also be- 
 fore the days when every boy thinks he must 
 have a " collection," no one tried to find the 
 nest, though there were three boys in the house 
 with me, and several more next door. 
 
 One evening after the whip-poor-will had sung 
 for some weeks, I was surprised to hear a droU 
 baby voice trying to imitate his notes. 
 
 On listening, I found that the elder was teach- 
 ing the youngster — actually giving him a music 
 lesson. First the perfect song rang out loud 
 and clear, and the weak quavering voice tried 
 to copy it. Then the singer repeated the strain, 
 and the infant tried again. So it went on night 
 after night till the little one could sing almost 
 as well as his father. 
 
WHIP-POOR-WILL 
 
MY FIRST BIRD 113 
 
 That was my first bit of bird study, though 
 I could never see the singer, did not even know 
 how he looked, and had nobody to teU me where 
 to find out ; besides being always so absorbed in 
 books, which I loved almost more than anything 
 in the world, that I did not try much. But I 
 never forgot the baby whip-poor-will's music les- 
 sons, and have always counted him the first bird 
 I ever knew. 
 
 The reason I failed to see the whip-poor-will, 
 though I stole down to the arbor so softly, was 
 because he could see in the dark so much bet- 
 ter than I could ; and when he saw me coming, 
 he sHpped off his perch and flew away so silently 
 with his soft plumage that I did not hear him. 
 And the reason I could never find the nest was 
 because the mother bird, the eggs, and the Uttle 
 ones were so nearly the color of the ground 
 where they lay that I might almost have stepped 
 on them without seeing them. 
 
 The whip-poor-wiU is about the length of a 
 robin, but much stouter. His dress is gray and 
 black and brown and white, very much mixed 
 up. His mate is a little more brown than he, 
 and she makes no nest, but lays her two eggs 
 on the ground, or a bed of dead leaves, and 
 brings up her twin babies in the same cheerless 
 place. Droll little birdlings they are, too, in 
 
114 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 suits of soft down so nearly the color of the 
 ground that when they cuddle down and keep 
 still, as I have said, it is almost impossible to see 
 them. 
 
THE THRUSHES WHO LIVED IN THE 
 CITY 
 
 In a city I know is a yard which is made safe 
 for birds by having a high, tight board fence, 
 with the top fixed so that cats cannot walk on it. 
 
 The top of fences in the city — as you proba- 
 bly know — is the common parade ground of the 
 cats who have no other place for walking out, 
 where they can look into the yards and decide 
 where they want to go down. It is right they 
 should have some place for exercise, for when 
 cats and dogs are shut up in cities they should 
 be made as comfortable as possible. 
 
 The family I am telling you about are very 
 fond of birds, and they hoped, when the birds 
 passed over in the spring, to coax some of them 
 to stay, by making a safe place for them ; so, 
 as I said, they fixed the fence to keep off the 
 cats, and then set out shrubs and vines and other 
 growing things in the yard, till it was a nice 
 cosy place that any bird might enjoy. To their 
 delight a pair of wood thrushes concluded to 
 spend the summer there, and soon a nest was 
 built. 
 
116 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 Now cats are very clever little beasts, and 
 though the fence highway was closed to them, 
 they would sometimes get in through the gate 
 or a door, or in some way. Then the birds were 
 very much alarmed and uttered cries of distress. 
 The family, hearing the cries, always rushed out 
 to see what was the matter, and of course drove 
 the cat away. 
 
 In a very short time those intelligent birds 
 learned that the people of the house would pro- 
 tect them, and in a few days they began to call 
 upon their human friends when in trouble. In- 
 stead of just calling and crying where they hap- 
 pened to be when a cat appeared, one of the 
 thrushes would go to the back door and give a 
 peculiar call, which was given at no other time. 
 The people soon understood it, and some one 
 would run out to drive away the enemy. If 
 there happened to be no one in the kitchen, so 
 that the birds could get no help on that side of 
 the house, they would fly to the front piazza, 
 perch on the rail, and call till some one came. 
 
 The family were so pleased with the birds' 
 confidence in them that they were very willing 
 to run out to protect them whenever called. All 
 smnmer long they held themselves ready to obey 
 the calls, and a little family was safely reared, 
 and all flew away for the winter. 
 
WOOD THRUSH 
 
THRUSHES WHO LIVED IN THE CITY 117 
 
 Birds soon learn who are their friends, and 
 become tame. Another pair of birds who were 
 very friendly with a family were Virginia car- 
 dinals or cardinal grosbeaks. These are very 
 shy birds, and so afraid of people that they wiU 
 desert a nest if any one touches it. This pair 
 built in a rosebush on a trellis before a kitchen 
 window, so low that the eleven-year-old son of 
 the family could touch it ; he never did touch it, 
 and the birds did not mind when he or any of 
 the family looked at them as much as they liked. 
 
 It was not because the birds were stupid or 
 particularly confiding; for when I went there 
 and looked at them, though not very near, they 
 were as wild as if they lived in the woods. They 
 knew I was a stranger, and I could not tell them 
 I was a bird lover, nor stay long enough to have 
 them get acquainted with me. 
 
BARN SWALLOWS IN A FROLIC 
 
 Bakn swallows are busy little feUows, nearly 
 always soaring around in the air over our heads, 
 appearing not even to see us down on the earth 
 below. 
 
 I was greatly surprised one day to find a barn 
 swaUow having a frolic with a dog. I was pass- 
 ing through a meadow on the side of a mountain 
 in Massachusetts, to reach a grove where birds 
 lived. The meadow was aU in terraces or great 
 steps, and looking down over them, I noticed 
 the queer antics of a dog belongtag to the farm- 
 house where I was staying. First he would 
 appear above the edge of a terrace in great 
 haste, then suddenly disappear, and in a moment 
 show his head at the other end of the grassy 
 steps. 
 
 What could be the matter ? I hurried down 
 the meadow to the edge of the first fall of the 
 land. There I saw the family pet, a beautiful 
 shepherd dog, much excited, running back and 
 forth on a rather narrow ledge below me. Now 
 he rushed frantically along thirty or forty feet, 
 
BAKN SWALLOWS IN A FROLIC 119 
 
 with tail wagging as if in sport, then wheeled 
 and ran back in the same eager way. Some- 
 times he made a dash to the left and tore madly 
 up the side of the mountain ; again he flung 
 himself over the edge, going almost heels over 
 head in his zeal. 
 
 What could be the cause ? I could see no 
 playmate ; his young master was mowing farther 
 down the meadow. I thought of woodchucks, 
 — his favorite game, — but though I looked 
 carefully, not one of those wary creatures was to 
 be seen ; moreover it is business and not play 
 when dog and woodchuck meet. 
 
 At last the dog leaped into the air, and my eye 
 fell upon his playfellow — a barn swallow ! I 
 could hardly believe my eyes, but I sat down on 
 the bank and watched for some time the strange 
 game. The dog would sit quietly at one end of 
 the run till the swallow swooped down just over 
 his head, and skimmed along at that height the 
 length of the terrace. 
 
 On the appearance of the bird the dog started 
 at full speed after him, and when the swallow 
 turned back the dog did the same. If the bird 
 went up towards the barn, the dog scrambled up 
 the steep bank after him ; if downward towards 
 the lower meadow, his four-footed playmate fol- 
 lowed. When the bird rose higher, the dog, 
 
120 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 as I said, sat down and waited. This they kept 
 up a long time, and I looked on till the dog 
 walked o£E, as if he had had enough of the fun. 
 
 After that I kept close watch of swallows, and 
 I found that they are very sharp to see what is 
 going on below them, and that they Hke to play 
 — even to play a joke. 
 
 One day I had come in from the woods and 
 was resting on the piazza, looking at the birds 
 on the lawn. There were robins and song spar- 
 rows running about in the grass, and a flock 
 of swallows flying round and round overhead. 
 All of these were busy catching small flies, and 
 when one had a mouthful he flew off to the barn, 
 where were four or five nests fuU of hungry 
 young ones. 
 
 While I was looking at them, suddenly one 
 left the flock and swooped down at a robin who 
 was hunting for his dinner on the ground. The 
 swallow did not quite touch him, but he came so 
 near that the robin dodged and then straight- 
 ened up and cried " Tut ! tut ! tut ! " looking up 
 at me as if to see if I had noticed how the swal- 
 low had insulted him. 
 
 A robin has a good deal of dignity, you know, 
 and does not like to be made to dodge. He 
 looked after the swallow, but it was of no use, 
 for he had joined the others, and I don't suppose 
 
BARN SWALLOWS IN A FROLIC 121 
 
 the robin could tell him from his brothers any 
 more than I could. 
 
 Another time the swallows were flying round 
 in great circles over a meadow. The hay had 
 just been taken away, and the owner turned his 
 hens in to pick up the grasshoppers and other 
 creatures left without any grass to hide in. 
 
 The newcomers did not interfere in the least 
 with the swallows, who get their food entirely 
 from the air ; but no sooner did the busy, plod- 
 ding hens begin to run about, than one or two 
 swallows marked them for a little fun, and began 
 swooping down at them, as the one I told you 
 about had treated the robin. 
 
 The birds did not actually touch the hens, 
 but they scared them very much. A hen would 
 dodge and cry out and run a little away, and 
 then go to feeding again. The swallows seemed 
 to think this great fun, for they kept it up till 
 the poor hens were fairly driven out of the 
 field. 
 
 Sometimes it is no joke on the part of the 
 swallows. I have seen a party of them drive 
 away a eat who was prowling about, perhaps 
 hoping to catch a bird to eat. This was a seri- 
 ous matter. The birds would fly down and give 
 her a sharp peck on the head or back, and be 
 off so quickly that she could not touch them, 
 
122 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 though a cat is very quick herself. This they 
 kept up till the cat would run and hide. 
 
 Once I saw several of these birds in the same 
 way drive away a kingfisher who was fishing 
 from a half-sunken fence in a salt marsh on the 
 seashore. I wondered why they disliked to have 
 him there, but after he had gone I saw the rea- 
 son : there were some baby swallows just out of 
 the nest, and the parents wanted them to perch 
 on the fence, where they could easily feed them. 
 The kingfisher was in their way. 
 
HOW THE DOG INTEEFEEED 
 
 All the tanagers that I have known have 
 been rather shy birds. They do not hke to have 
 their nests seen by people, and for that reason I 
 ■was very much pleased when I found one. 
 
 I was walking along a httle-used path in the 
 woods with a friend — another bird lover — when 
 we noticed that a beautiful bird in scarlet and 
 black, a scarlet tanager, did not want us to go 
 up that way. He went ahead of us from tree to 
 tree, keeping an eye on us, calling all the time 
 " Chip-chur ! Chip-chur ! " as if to put some 
 one on guard. 
 
 When we stopped a moment to see what the 
 fuss was about, we saw his mate in her modest 
 dress of yellowish green. She was sitting on a 
 low branch saying " Chip-chur ! " too, and it was 
 plain she did not like our going up that path 
 either. That made us think there must be a 
 nest somewhere near, and looking sharply around, 
 we both saw it. 
 
 The nest was beautifully placed in a sort of 
 arch made by a tail, slender sapling or young 
 
124 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 tree being bent over to the ground, probably by 
 a heavy weight of snow, and held there till it 
 grew so. It could not get up straight again to 
 grow into a tree, so the twigs grew out the whole 
 length of the slender trunk, making a beautiful 
 arch, high enough for a child to walk under. 
 At that time it was covered with fresh green 
 leaves, and was one of the prettiest things in 
 the woods. In the middle of this arch was the 
 nest. 
 
 The birds, finding that we were quiet, flew 
 away at last, and we at once hid ourselves as 
 well as we could, hoping they would not see us 
 and would come back. There was a tangle of 
 young trees where we were, tall enough to hide 
 us, and we crept under them, covering our heads 
 with branches of leaves so that our hats would 
 not show. Then we sat down and waited for 
 the birds to come back. 
 
 Now we were not alone that morning. We 
 had the big dog who always followed my friend, 
 and we took him into the tangle with us. 
 
 Pretty soon the tanagers appeared, the scarlet 
 beauty perched high up on a tree, looking sharply 
 around to see that no spectators were about, while 
 his mate tried to get up her courage to go to 
 the nest, which was not finished. Nearer and 
 nearer she came, pausing and looking around 
 
HOW THE DOG INTERFERED 125 
 
 and calling to her mate to make sure he was 
 near. 
 
 At last the shy bird was on the arch, and close 
 to the nest, just about to take the last step and 
 go in, and we hardly dared to breathe though 
 mosquitoes nearly drove us wild, when suddenly 
 there came a terrific report — the dog sneezed ! 
 
 Like a flash, away went the tanagers. No 
 doubt they thought something dreadful — an 
 earthquake, perhaps — had happened, for they 
 never came back to finish that nest. We went 
 there many times, but never a tanager was to be 
 seen. The next time they hid their nest so well 
 that we never found it, and weeks afterward we 
 saw them in another part of the woods feeding a 
 nestling. 
 
UPPER AND LOWER STORY IN THE 
 BIRD WORLD 
 
 In a Western city where I spent part of a 
 summer, I saw a curious thing among the birds. 
 There were two kinds of birds Hving in the busi- 
 ness streets, English sparrows and purple martins. 
 
 Now these two birds are not very friendly, 
 because they both want to live in bird houses and 
 holes and such sheltered places. The martin has 
 to go south in the winter to find food, and the 
 EngKsh sparrow does not, for he finds his food 
 anywhere. When the martins come back in 
 the spring to their old homes, — martin houses, 
 boxes, and such places, — they find the sparrows 
 living in them, every one filled full. Then there 
 is hkely to be trouble and much fighting among 
 the birds, for the English sparrows, when once 
 they get in, are hard to get out. So the martins 
 have been obliged to go to other places to nest. 
 
 For that reason I was surprised to find both 
 species living in that city, and no fighting be- 
 tween them. The way they had settled it, as I 
 soon saw, was by dividing the city between them ; 
 
UPPEB AND LOWER STORY 127 
 
 that is, living at different heights in the air, 
 almost as well separated as the upper and lower 
 stories of a house. 
 
 The EngHsh sparrows lived in the lower story. 
 They had their nests in vines on the houses, and 
 over the doors and windows and such places, and 
 they got their food and spent their time on the 
 ground and low trees. They rarely flew higher 
 than the trees and the telegraph wires. 
 
 The purple martins Uved in the upper story. 
 They gathered their food of flying insects in the 
 air, high up ahove the buildings, and ahghted 
 only on the tops of the tall business blocks and 
 on the highest wires. I never saw one go lower. 
 In that way each tribe of birds had its own level, 
 and did not interfere with the other. 
 
 The place the martins had selected for their 
 homes was most curious and interesting. The 
 business block about which I saw them had a 
 flat roof, and the front brick waU ended in a 
 square top. For ornament, or to protect the waU 
 from rain, a terra-cotta covering, a haU-cylinder 
 in shape, was placed over this square top ; that is, 
 as if a stove-pipe or a tile used for drains were 
 cut in half for its whole length. This made a 
 low sort of arch over the brick waU, which was 
 open at the end. 
 
 Under this arch, perhaps five or six inches in 
 
128 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 the highest part, the martins had made their 
 nests. Here they were to be seen from morning 
 till night, sitting in the doorway and going in 
 and out, very much at home. Of course all 
 of them had to go in at the same entrance, and 
 there were a large number who seemed to live 
 there. 
 
 Whenever I looked out of my windows, I could 
 see the beautiful dark blue martins circling about 
 over the tall buildings and calling in their sweet 
 voices, apparently unconscious of what was going 
 on in the busy streets, and the sparrows chirp- 
 ing and squawking down below in their noisy 
 fashion. 
 
 , Purple martins are beautiful birds and are fond 
 of living near people, but they will not build nests 
 in trees like robins. They prefer comfortable 
 martin houses; and in the spring, when they 
 come north for the summer, if they find their 
 houses occupied, they will not stay. Mrs. Celia 
 Thaxter, who was very fond of birds, had a 
 hundred martin houses put up on the island 
 where she lived, and the birds liked them so well 
 that the first year a hundred pairs of martins 
 settled there for the season. 
 
THE LOST BABY 
 
 Oira lovely June evening, a few years ago, I 
 was walking on a lonely road away up in the 
 Green Mountains, where they run nearly to the 
 top of the map in the State of Vermont. 
 
 I was engaged in my usual summer occupation 
 of watching and studying birds, and my desire that 
 evening was to hear the twilight hymn of a cer- 
 tain hermit thrush who sang from the thick woods 
 beside the road. For some reason the bird was not 
 singing, and I wandered on and on, not liking 
 to give him up, till it began to grow dark and I 
 found myself much farther than usual from the 
 farmhouse where I was staying. 
 
 I was about turning to go back, when suddenly 
 a strange, loud cry burst into the silence. It 
 was unlike anything I had ever heard. No bird, 
 I thought, could utter such a sound, and I did 
 not care to meet any wild beast from the woods, 
 especially as I had already heard very strange 
 voices from that quarter. At that moment I 
 noticed a robin perched on a tall post a little 
 farther up the road, looking over with great inter- 
 
130 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 est at something on the ground, and when the cry 
 was repeated, I saw that it came from that spot. 
 
 The bird's evident curiosity aroused mine, and 
 I determined to see what it was. Slowly I walked 
 on towards it, the cries sounding louder, with a 
 rusthng among the weeds that showed me where 
 the creature — whatever it was — was moving. 
 
 As I came nearer, the hopping and thrashing 
 about increased, and the weeds moved violently. 
 I caught sight of a queer-looking creature, more 
 like a big toad than anything I could think of, 
 leaping or jumping along beside the road. 
 
 I tried to take him in my hands, but he uttered 
 louder and more frantic cries, and scrambled 
 under a thick patch of low bushes that bordered 
 the way. I followed, — not under, but over the 
 bushes, — for now I began to think it might be 
 a young bird. But as I parted the branches 
 over him, he shpped farther on, till he passed 
 through and came out into the open the other 
 side. 
 
 On coming near him, I heard from the woods 
 a low, rapid tapping, which I thought was made 
 by a woodpecker. And knowing that one of the 
 largest of the family, whom I had never seen, 
 lived in that neighborhood, I was more than 
 ever determined to see the youngster, — prob- 
 ably, I thought, a woodpecker baby. 
 
THE LOST BABY 131 
 
 When he appeared outside, therefore, I pounced 
 upon him, and took him up in my hands. He 
 was not a gentle captive. He struggled and tried 
 to hite me, and as my hands closed over him, he 
 uttered a wail more despairing than any before. 
 
 On the instant, as if in reply, there came a 
 shriek from the darkening woods that would 
 have startled me greatly if I had not at once 
 recognized that it was the agonized cry of the 
 mother of the infant I held, for of course it 
 was a young bird I found in my hands. 
 
 Unfortunately for the student, bird babies look 
 a good deal alike, so, as the easiest way to name 
 my prize, I glanced up at the distressed mother. 
 She had come into plain sight, forgetting her own 
 danger in her anxiety and terror, and no doubt 
 thinking it was now all over with her precious 
 offspring. 
 
 I looked for a woodpecker, but I saw a cuckoo, 
 and knew I was looking, for the first time, on a 
 full-grown young cuckoo. 
 
 I did not study him closely, for between his 
 own struggles and his mother's painful cries, I 
 could not bear to hold him long. In a minute I 
 opened my hands, and away he went, half flying, 
 half hopping up the road after his mother. She 
 had instantly, upon his release, slipped back 
 among the trees out of sight, and resumed the 
 
132 TRUE BIED STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 tapping sound, which I then found was a modifi- 
 cation of the " Kuk ! Kuk ! Kuk ! " of the fam- 
 ily. It was her talk to her little one. 
 
 It was the first time I had seen a young cuckoo 
 just out of the nest, but the very young nestling 
 is the oddest baby I ever saw. It is about as big 
 as the end of my thumb, black as ink, and stuck 
 aU over with tiny white quills that look like pins 
 on a black cushion. It does not look as if it 
 could ever grow to be as big as its mother. 
 
 You have heard or read, perhaps, that the 
 cuckoo does not make a nest, but puts her eggs 
 into the nests of other birds, leaving them to 
 hatch and rear her youngsters. This is true of 
 the cuckoo of Europe, but remember always that 
 our cuckoos make nests and bring up their own 
 young, and are just as tender and careful of 
 them as any bird I know. 
 
 It is true that a few cases have been reported 
 of eggs found in other birds' nests, but so far as 
 I have heard, these cases were not positively 
 proved. Moreover, even if true, it happens so 
 seldom that it does not affect the general rule. 
 
HOW THE CROW BABY WAS PUNISHED 
 
 I ONCE watched the doings in a crow nursery. 
 The babies were out of the nest, and came with 
 their mothers to a pasture away from most of the 
 houses, and quite near the woods where their 
 home had been. 
 
 There was, to be sure, a low cottage next to 
 the fence, which the birds did not seem to notice. 
 It was a farmhouse, with doors and windows 
 nearly all on the other side, so that the people 
 were not often seen next the pasture, and there 
 were no children to run about and be noisy. 
 
 I was staying in that farmhouse to study the 
 birds, and one of my windows looked iato the 
 pasture. I was very careful never to let the birds 
 see me at the window, and so I had a fine chance 
 to see how a crow mamma brings up her family. 
 
 The big-little ones were about the size of the 
 grown-ups, but they had funny little dumpy 
 tails, and were clumsy in getting about. Their 
 cry sounded just like a human baby cry, " Ma-a-a ! 
 Ma-a-a ! " It was very droll, and I watched 
 them with great interest. 
 
134 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 The most important thing the elders had to do 
 was to teach the youngsters how to fly, and every 
 little while one or both of the parents would fly 
 round the pasture, giving a peculiar caU as they 
 went. This call appeared to be an order to the 
 little folk to foUow, for all would start up and 
 circle round for a minute or two, and then drop 
 back to the fence or the ground to rest. 
 
 Once, while I was watching them, this cry was 
 given, and aU flew as usual except one bob- 
 tailed baby, who stood on a big stone in the 
 middle of the field. He was perhaps so com- 
 fortable he did not want to go, or it may be he 
 was afraid and thought mamma would not notice 
 him. 
 
 But mothers' eyes are sharp, and she did see 
 him. She knew, too, that baby crows must learn 
 to fly, so when they all came down again she 
 flew right at the naughty bird, and knocked 
 him off his perch. He squawked, and fluttered 
 his wings to keep from falling, but the blow 
 came so suddenly that he had not time to save 
 himself, and he fell flat on the ground. 
 
 In a minute he clambered back upon his stone, 
 and I watched him closely. The next time the 
 call came to fly he did not linger, but went with 
 the rest, and so long as I could watch him he 
 never disobeyed again. 
 
A JAY'S TABLE MAIMERS 
 
 The Canada jay is a bird who lives in the 
 northern part of the United States, in the soh- 
 tary -woods or near them, and is closely related 
 to our jolly blue jay. He seems to be as full of 
 fun and antics as his cousin in blue, and many 
 stories, some true and some untrue, are told 
 about him. 
 
 Wood-cutters and hunters who camp out in 
 these mountains and woods call him "camp 
 bird " and other such names, because he is fond 
 of coming about a camp and making himself free 
 with their property. He carries ofE their meat, 
 and helps himself to anything he wants. 
 
 The campers forget that they have intruded 
 into his home, where he feels that everything 
 belongs to him. Some men are fair-minded 
 enough to see this, even some of the Indians 
 who hve up there near the birds. One of them 
 told a lady who traveled in that part of the 
 country that the woods belonged to the bird. 
 It was his home, and men had no right there; in 
 fact, they were intruders. When men appeared 
 
136 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 on his ground, and the bird came to see what 
 they were about, they called him impertinent, 
 while the truth was, the men were the imperti- 
 nent ones. 
 
 The Indian name for this bird is something 
 like " Wiscachon," and he has come to be called 
 by white men " Whiskey John " and " Whiskey 
 Jack." 
 
 He is a beautiful bird in soft gray plumage, 
 and one of the most intelligent of the family. 
 All the jays are interesting, and know more, it 
 is thought, than any other birds. Travelers 
 generally tell the troublesome and funny things 
 they do, but Dr. Merriam, who has known birds 
 all his hfe, has told a little story that shows 
 him in a new hght, in pleasant relations with his 
 fellows. 
 
 The doctor says that it was his habit when 
 camping out to give the birds what was left of his 
 meals, and among the rest of the fragments were 
 often a few pancakes, a favorite dish in the woods. 
 
 The way the cakes were served to the jays 
 was by thrusting a sharp stick through one and 
 pinning it to the ground, so that it could not be 
 carried off. Then the jays, who are not much 
 afraid of men, would come around to get the 
 dainty, which they like as well as some other 
 little folk do. 
 
A JAY'S TABLE MANNERS 137 
 
 Although there might be a half-dozen birds, 
 aU anxious for the cake, they never once quar- 
 reled over it. One would go up and pull ofE a 
 piece, then another would follow, and so on, each 
 one taking his turn and waiting for his brother 
 to pull ofE his bit before he went up himself. 
 
 Were not those pretty good table manners for 
 a bird brought up in the woods ? 
 
FEIENDLY WILD EOBINS 
 
 When wild birds find that the people about 
 them are always kind and never trouble them, 
 they often get very tame. I have known of 
 several cases of robins so tame that they did not 
 at all fear the family near whom they lived. 
 
 I have told in another book about a pair of 
 robins who nested in one yard for fourteen years. 
 If they were not the same pair all the time, they 
 were descendants of one pair, for they came 
 every spring to the same old places, just as tame 
 and fearless as they had been when they left 
 them in the fall — fearless of the family, I mean. 
 They were as shy of strangers as any robins, but 
 any one of the family could look at a nest or pick 
 up a young robin without frighteniag the birds. 
 
 One day there arose a great hue and cry on 
 the lawn, and some one from the house went out 
 to see what was the matter. All the robins of 
 the neighborhood were flying about, scolding 
 and crying at the top of their voices and cir- 
 cling round the head of a man who was walking 
 quickly away. 
 
FRIENDLY WILD ROBINS 139 
 
 It seems he had picked up a young robin 
 just out of the nest, and the parents had called 
 in their neighbors to help rescue it. The lady, 
 who saw what was the trouble, went to the man 
 and claimed the youngster as a "tame bird." 
 The man gave it to her, and in an instant the 
 cries ceased. Not only the parents knew the 
 Httle one was safe in her hands, but all the other 
 birds seemed to understand it also. She carried 
 the baby bird back to the lawn and put him in 
 a safe place, while the elders looked on perfectly 
 satisfied. 
 
 I know of another young robin picked up 
 from the ground when he was just out of the 
 nest, to save him from cats. He was not caged, 
 but allowed to go all over the house, and out of 
 doors. 
 
 When his kind mistress thought he was old 
 enough to take care of himself and keep out of 
 the way of cats, she tried to give him his liberty. 
 Again and again she carried him out of doors 
 away from the house and left him, but he 
 would not be left. He would stand on a branch 
 and shriek and call like a lost child, till she came 
 back. Then he would fly to her shoulder, rub 
 his head against her cheek, and give sweet little 
 notes, showing his love for her, and his dehght 
 at getting back to her. 
 
140 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 Another lady, who nursed a little robin that 
 was hurt, had the same experience. The bird 
 was so happy with her that he would not leave 
 her. She told me she had sometimes set him on 
 her hat and walked about the streets and into 
 shops with her live-bird ornament, and he never 
 thought of leaving her. 
 
 She often took her pet into a grove and let 
 him fly about wherever he chose. He liked it 
 very much, but the minute she started up to leave 
 him, he flew to her. He would not be left. 
 
 I could tell you other stories to show that 
 when birds are weU treated and made happy 
 with people, they get much attached to them, 
 and often prefer to stay with them. But they 
 must be well fed, kindly treated, allowed a good 
 deal of liberty, and above all — never teased. 
 
 A lady told me a funny story about a robin. 
 He was brought up in the house from the nest, 
 and never learned to sing the robin song, for he 
 had not heard it. He plainly tried to make some 
 sort of music, and one of the family taught him 
 to whistle " Yankee Doodle." He whistled it 
 perfectly, and never tried to sing anything 
 else. 
 
 Once this Yankee Doodle robin got out of the 
 house and flew up into a tree. When the wild 
 birds came about him he entertained them by 
 
FRIENDLY WILD ROBINS 141 
 
 whistling his favorite air, which sent the birds 
 off in a panic. 
 
 Robins have been known to imitate words. 
 One that I know of lived in the house with a 
 parrot who talked, and learned from him to say 
 " Aunt Maria " as plainly as the parrot himself. 
 
THE DROLL MOCKINGBIED 
 
 The more I see of the mockingbird, the more 
 sure I am that he plays many of his pranks for 
 pure fun. 
 
 When he lives in a cage and learns to mock 
 the sounds he hears about him, such as the post- 
 man's whistle, the call to the dog, or the chick- 
 en's cry of distress, he delights to give these 
 sounds by way of a joke, — for instance, the cry 
 of a chicken in the night, when it wiU send some 
 kind-hearted person out to the coop to see what 
 is the matter, or the postman's whistle, to make 
 some one run for letters. 
 
 A mockingbird that I once knew lived in a 
 cage next door to a network partition which 
 separated him from a large family of canaries. 
 When first placed there, the bird seemed to be 
 struck dumb by his neighbors' singing, while the 
 truth was, he was simply studying his lesson. 
 For days he remained silent, taking notes, learn- 
 ing their song ; then suddenly, without any re- 
 hearsal so far as known, he burst out into the 
 canary song, in a loud, ringing tone that struck 
 every little yellow throat dumb for a time. 
 
THE DROLL MOCKINGBIRD 143 
 
 After this it was his pleasure to keep silent 
 till half the birds in the room were shrieking at 
 the top of their voices, and then aU at once to 
 break into the concert with their own trills and 
 quavers, so loudly given as to shut them all up 
 in an instant. Then he stood and jerked his 
 wings, and flirted his tail, and hopped gracefully 
 back and forth in his big cage, evidently enjoy- 
 ing the consternation he had produced. 
 
 A curious thing I once saw was a free mock- 
 ingbird regarding the antics of a kitten at play 
 on the grass. The bird took his position on a 
 tree almost directly above pussy, leaned far over, 
 jerked his tail, and uttered a peculiar sound like 
 the " FufE "of an excited cat. This is, in fact, 
 the bird's wai^cry, and for the little fellow to 
 declare war upon the enemy of his race, when 
 even in its infancy it was so much larger than 
 himself, was very droU. His manner showed that 
 he appreciated it, and enjoyed it as a joke. 
 
 On one occasion, when I was engaged in study- 
 ing this bird in North Carolina, there happened 
 to be something outside the fence that attracted 
 the turkey buzzards, so numerous in that State. 
 Many of them abandoned their usual occupation 
 of soaring about in the air, and came one after 
 another to earth, in plain sight. 
 
 Having never seen these birds much, I was 
 
144 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 greatly interested in their movements, their grace- 
 fully decreasing circles, and as they neared the 
 ground, their hanging legs, and their evident 
 hesitation to aUght. I had seen several come to 
 the spot, and was wondering what could be there 
 to attract them, when a mockingbird noticed the 
 unusual gathering, flew down the yard, and 
 perched upon the fence near where they were 
 busily engaged in the road. 
 
 A few moments he stood looking at them in- 
 tently, then suddenly, with a loud war-cry, 
 dropped down among them. I was frightened, 
 for they were big enough to eat him, but what 
 was my amazement to see tiie buzzards rising in 
 a panic, twenty of them. The mockingbird 
 knew them better than I, and undoubtedly he 
 did it as a joke, for the next minute he hopped 
 gayly upon the fence, and began his loudest 
 song, wriggling his body, and flirting his wings 
 in a gleeful manner. At another time the joker 
 became interested in the movements of a brood 
 of chickens that with much noise and chatting 
 accompanied their mamma about the yard. No 
 doubt he planned another joke, for he quietly 
 dropped from his perch into the midst of tiiem. 
 
 A hen is a different bird from a buzzard, how- 
 ever, and the joke was not a success. The mother 
 turned sharply upon the intruder, and he dis- 
 
THE DKOLL MOCKINGBIRD 145 
 
 creetly left her and her family in peace. No 
 triumphant song and no posturing on the fence 
 followed this failure. 
 
 I have seen a mockingbird play a friendly trick 
 upon another by suddenly hopping over his head 
 and coming down on the other side, just avoiding 
 touching him, but so barely missing that the 
 victim always sprang to one side, or ducked his 
 head. 
 
 I noticed, too, that the second bird watched 
 his chance, and before long paid the joker in 
 his own coin by jumping over Ms head when he 
 did not expect it. 
 
 But life is not all fun even to a mockingbird. 
 Here is a little story of one who was in trouble. 
 The person who wrote me about it had found a 
 young mockingbird in a nest in a low thorn- 
 bush. It was about ready to fly, and thinking 
 he would secure it for his young sister, he went 
 to the house for a cage. '' All the time we were 
 at the nest," he says, " the mother bird was 
 giving her cry of distress, and continually dart- 
 ing down at us, as though to fight. As soon as 
 we started back with the cage, she set up her 
 cry, and when we were less than twenty yards 
 from the nest, she flew down and pushed the 
 young one out. As it fell, it made an effort to 
 fly, and was carried ten or fifteen feet from the 
 
146 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 bush. We rushed up to get it, when the old 
 one flew down to the ground, and with either 
 her claws or her bUl carried it up to a height of 
 ten or twelve feet, then let it go, and flew, the 
 young one making an effort to foUow her. This 
 it did, till it gave out and fell, when the mother 
 came down and lifted it again ; and so she did, 
 as we followed her up, for three or four times, 
 till we were ashamed of ourselves and left them. 
 I am satisfied," he concludes, "from her cries 
 and action, that it was the mother's supreme 
 effort to remove her young from danger." 
 
 The mockingbird is a great enemy of the cat, 
 of course. AU birds recognize the cat as an 
 enemy that would like to eat them. Mocking- 
 birds are known to drive cats off the premises, 
 as I have told you swallows will do also. 
 
 Did you ever hear a mockingbird sing ? and 
 notice what funny words it seems to say ? Those 
 of you who live in the South of course have heard 
 him often. The first time I ever heard one, I 
 wrote down the words his song sounded like. 
 
 Here are some of them. 
 
 " Su-ky ! su-ky ! su-ky ! come he-e-e-re ! come 
 he-e-e-re ! malory ! malory ! malory ! pe-de-de-de ! 
 quit ! quit ! qu ! qu ! qu ! chick-a-pa-tee ! chick-a- 
 pa-tee ! chick-a-pa-tee ! pr-r-r-r ! cup-o-tea ! cup-o- 
 tea ! cup-o-tea ! pic-o-lo ! pic-o-lo ! pic-o-lo ! " So 
 
THE DROLL MOCKINGBIRD 147 
 
 he would go on an hour at a time, in a loud, 
 clear voice, jerking his tail, lifting his wings, 
 and turning his head to one side and the other, 
 with bright black eyes fixed on me as i£ to see 
 how I liked it. 
 
 I Kked it very much indeed, and kept still and 
 listened as long as he would sing. 
 
A SOCIABLE BABY DOVE 
 
 Never were there more lovely and winning 
 bird babies than young mourning doves. A 
 dove's nest is a frail sort of platform that very 
 soon drops to pieces, and the nestlings have to 
 hold on to the branches for themselves. This 
 would not do at all for restless babies — they 
 would fall to the ground very soon ; but young 
 doves are quiet little fellows, with manners as 
 composed as their manmia's. There are always 
 two of them, and they sit side by side close to- 
 gether, saying nothing. 
 
 Some people think that mourning doves never 
 say anything. They are very quiet, but they 
 are not dumb. They utter soft, sweet notes, so 
 very low that one has to be near them to hear 
 at all. 
 
 The dove's nest is rarely very high, and in 
 one place where I studied I often came upon 
 them. There they would sit perfectly stiU and 
 look at me cahnly, as if they knew I would not 
 touch them. 
 
 Sometimes the mother was there, ]ust having 
 
A SOCIABLE BABY DOVE 149 
 
 fed them, perhaps. She, too, sat perfectly still, 
 in just the position in which I had caught her. 
 If her head happened to be turned to one side, 
 she would hold it there as if she were suddenly 
 frozen stiff, and no matter how long I stayed, 
 she would not move. 
 
 Besides their silence there is another queer 
 thing about doves. When they fly they make 
 a whistling sound that has been supposed by the 
 wise men to be made in some way by the air 
 among the wing feathers, and the dove song of 
 " Coo-o ! " with slight variations, was thought 
 to be aU he could sing. 
 
 All these strange things made the dove very 
 interesting, and so one day when I came upon 
 a young dove sitting on the lowest branch of a 
 tree, I thought I would see if he could talk. I 
 stopped six or eight feet from him, and began a 
 low whistling call. 
 
 The bird instantly answered me, in a low but 
 clear tone, and as long as I stood there and 
 called, he answered. It seemed to make him 
 uneasy, however, for he flew from one branch 
 to another, though he did not go away. 
 
 The next day I found him there again, and 
 again I began talking to him. He answered 
 every time, with a sweet note, and sometimes he 
 fluttered his wings a httle, but it made him 
 
150 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 restless again, and suddenly he flew directly to- 
 ward me. It looked as if he were going to 
 ahght on my head, but he passed over a few 
 inches above it, and alighted on a tree. 
 
 I turned and went on calling, when he flew 
 to the ground almost at my feet, still answering 
 me. Finally he flew back to the tree I found 
 him on, and there I left him. 
 
 The sounds the dove baby made were so much 
 like the whisthng supposed to be made by wings 
 that I thought I would find out more about it. 
 So I went to a tree where doves spent a good 
 deal of time, and hid myself under it. There I 
 heard many notes, some of them like those made 
 by the baby in answer to me, and some like 
 their louder " Coo-o ! " only very low. In fact, 
 several days' study under the doves' tree taught 
 me that they are as talkative as any birds, only 
 they speak hardly above a whisper; and that 
 they can make the whistling sound without fly- 
 ing, and can fly without making it at all. So 
 there is still more to be found out about doves. 
 
THE DUCKLINGS WHO WOULD NOT 
 GIVE UP 
 
 Perhaps you have heard the story of Bruce 
 and the spider, how the tiny creature taught the 
 man a lesson in patience and never giving up i£ 
 he wanted to succeed in anything. Well, spiders 
 are not the only creatures who, 
 
 If at first they don't succeed, 
 Try, try again. 
 
 A droll sight was that of a party of ducklings 
 who evidently had that for their motto. They 
 were not long out of the shell, and they started 
 out one morning to have a swim. Unfortunately 
 they chose the sea for their swimming-place, and 
 set out bravely to wade in. ' 
 
 It happened to be when the tide was coming 
 in, very quietly, with hardly a ripple. Every 
 few moments a little wave not more than an 
 inch or two high swept gently up on the beach, 
 and then drew back into the ocean, after the 
 manner of waves. 
 
 Now ducks, however young, are very dignified, 
 and slowly and solemnly the little family party 
 
152 TRUE BIED STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 waddled down toward the water. They were in 
 no hurry. The sun was warm and pleasant ; 
 they had eaten their breakfast; they had the 
 day before them. 
 
 Just as they reached the edge of the water, 
 the tiny wavelet ran in, lifted the pretty yellow 
 babies off their feet, swept them aU far up on 
 the beach, then turned, leaving them high and 
 dry on the sand, and ran out to sea again. 
 
 The ducklings, not at all discouraged by this 
 shabby joke of the wavelet, gathered themselves 
 together and started again down the beach as 
 bravely as before. Again the saucy wavelet 
 came up to meet them, and again they were aU 
 set down far up on the beach. 
 
 One would think they might be discouraged. 
 Far from it ! They wanted to go into the water, 
 and into the water they would go. A third 
 time they set out for their swim, as earnest, as 
 calm, as hopeful as at first. Of course they met 
 the same fate as twice before, but of course they 
 did not give it up. 
 
 Whether they ever really did get into the sea 
 is not known. Eight or ten times, in fact as 
 long as the observer had time and patience to 
 watch them, the same game went on ; each wave- 
 let carried them all far up on the beach, and 
 they all waddled back, with the single purpose 
 of going into the sea for a swim. 
 
THE DUCKLINGS 163 
 
 Another of the duck tribe that I once saw 
 lived with his mate in the yard with some hens, 
 and did not approve of the loud cackling the 
 hens make over every egg. 
 
 There was a Uttle pond in the yard for the 
 use of the ducks, and this knowing drake soon 
 found out that the hens did not like to go into 
 the water as ducks do. So whenever a hen 
 came cackling out of the hen house, he would 
 rush after her, seize her by the back of the 
 neck, and drag her, squawking, fighting, and 
 beating her wings, to the pond, where he would 
 give her a good sousing, and then let her go. 
 
 The hens soon learned to expect it, and when 
 one began to tell the world that there was a 
 fresh egg in the box, she would go shrieking 
 around the yard as fast as legs and wings could 
 carry her, while the drake, with fury in his eye, 
 scrambled after her. 
 
BIRDS AND DOLLS 
 
 One day, when I had my Bird Room, I was 
 dressing a doll for a young friend, and I laid it 
 on my desk while I made the clothes. 
 
 Now on my desk I kept a small china box full 
 of dried currants soaked soft, which the birds 
 were very fond of. When a bird wanted one 
 to eat, he would fly up on the desk and ask 
 for one by looking at the box and then at me. 
 
 The first bird who came for a currant that 
 morning was a thrush. The instant he saw the 
 doll he was struck with panic, and flew madly, 
 as if he feared the doll would eat him. 
 
 I laughed at him, for I thought he was simply 
 a coward, but I soon found that every bird in 
 the room was afraid df it. Some of them flew 
 quietly but quickly away, while others scolded 
 and squawked, and made a great noise over it. 
 When I held the doll up so that all the birds in 
 the room could see it, they made as much row 
 as if the poor little doll were a big cat, used to 
 eating birds. 
 
 I thought that was droll, but I found after- 
 
BIRDS AND DOLLS 155 
 
 wards that wild birds do not like dolls any bet- 
 ter than captives. Once when I was watching 
 the birds in a big yard f uU of trees, a Httle girl 
 set her doll up on the ground, leaning against a 
 tree, forgot it, and left it there. 
 
 The first birds who noticed it were a pair of 
 blue jays who had a nest in the same yard. They 
 came to the next tree and looked at it and 
 talked softly together. Then they swooped down 
 at it as if to see if they could scare it away, and 
 finally they squawked at the poor doU and flew 
 away. 
 
 Then two robins came to see what sort of a 
 thing was there. They were evidently a good 
 deal scared, but kept their courage up by shout- 
 ing " He ! he ! he ! " as they came near. One of 
 them was determined to get near enough to see, 
 and he came slowly nearer and nearer till about 
 a foot from the doll, when he suddenly sprang 
 up as if it had started for him, and both of them 
 gave loud shrieks and flew away in a panic. 
 
 The next visitor to the bugaboo was a red- 
 headed woodpecker. The minute he saw it he 
 burst into a loud woodpecker chitter like 
 " T-t-t-t-t ! " growing louder and louder, and 
 higher and higher, till it was almost a shriek, all 
 the time with eyes fixed on the doll. 
 
 This strange performance excited all the birds 
 
156 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 around, and many of them came to see what 
 was the matter. When the woodpecker had said 
 all he wanted to, he suddenly stopped, and the 
 birds flew away as if the show were over. Not 
 a bird dared to go very near the tree so long as 
 it stayed there. 
 
 But the doU did not seem to mind it a bit. 
 
EUctrotyped and pritUed by H. O. Houghton &> Co> 
 CatiAridge, Mass., U.S. A. 
 
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