Taming Wild Birds without a Cage. 13' 



but succumbed to fear completely, the moment the tent was closed, and refused to 

 approach the nest. On the second day the female was on the nesting bough in ten 

 minutes, but hesitated and made seven consecutive visits before actually feeding the 

 y<>ung. After several hours their fear had become so well subdued that the wary male 

 brought and delivered food while I was engaged in taking down the tent and stood close 

 by. On the third day the young were fed while the tent was going up, but a full half 

 hour had elapsed before their behavior was perfectly free and spontaneous. On the 

 fourth day the birds came as before, and life at the nest was resumed with perfect con- 

 fidence after the space of twenty minutes. The female would now sit placidly on the 

 nest in face of the tent and the window in its front, across which the hand was frequently 

 drawn to adjust the shutter that was clicking at random intervals but twenty-eight inches 

 from her ears. 



At the close of the day's observations, I took the camera outside the tent, and photo- 

 graphed the male as he came to the nest. The moment I entered the tent to take it 

 down he was back again with a mouth full of cherries. When after striking the tent and 

 rolling it up I stood quietly by the nest for a few moments, the cock came for the third 

 time and delivered a large grasshopper to his never-to-be-satisfied brood. 



On the first day four hours failed to bring these birds to their needy children, while 

 in the ninth and last the male, the more suspicious of the two, was on hand with food 

 in seven minutes. With the new objects in constant view, new associations had been 

 formed. The strong parental instinct supported by habit had banished most of their 

 former fear. The first steps in the taming process had been taken, and were carried fur- 

 ther in the case now to be described. 



Two nests of the Chestnut-sided Warbler, each containing fresh eggs, were found in 

 a pasture on the twelfth day of June. The behavior of the birds at both nests was at 

 first essentially the same, so far as it was tested. While the eggs were still fresh, the 

 nests were often visited without seeing or hearing a bird, but during incubation the female, 

 who is a close sitter, would allow me to approach within a yard or two feet. Then as I 

 extended my hand slowly toward her she would hop out and cling with head down on the 

 farther side of the nest, so that only her little tail was visible over its rim. Any one 

 prone to discover protective mimicry in such cases would find a striking example of it in 

 this attitude, the little gray tail of the bird simulating so well one of the twigs which 

 helped to support the gray wall of the nest. It was rather the case of an alert animal 

 lying still or in hiding until a present danger might be past. If you kept your position 

 long enough the bird would drop to the ground, where joined by her mate, both would 

 hop about in the grass chipping nervously, but keeping well out of sight. On approach- 

 ing one of the nests still later when there were young, the female was usually overtaken 

 in the act of brooding. At such times it was easy to walk slowly up and place your 

 hand close to the brooding bird. But before allowing you actually to touch her, she 

 would flit to the grass, and with spread wings and tail practice that "art of feigning" as 

 it is usually called, although it is not an art or anything learned or practiced for the occa- 

 sion, but an inherited instinct, the end and advantage of which is to distract your atten- 

 tion from the nest to the moving bird. One day I stood by and watched the little mother 

 to see how long her antics would last. She would come within a yard of my feet when 

 I remained perfectly quiet, and trail her wings along the ground, making repeated sallies 



