133 

 A BIRD IN THE BUSH. 



[By W. A. D. Lees.— Read February 1890.] 



The old saw about a bird in the hand, like many another old saw, 

 needs some filing down to make it cut true. Applied literally to birds, 

 it may appeal by its aptness to the sportsman or the working ornitholo- 

 gist, but to one who does not aspire to the honours of either position, 

 but is a simple lover of birds in their native haunts, its truth will not 

 be so apparent. I shall not stop to discuss the question of man's in- 

 herent right to slay his fellow-creatures at pleasure, or even of the 

 expediency of so doing for useful purposes, scientific or gastronomic. 

 I merely wish to record, in passing, my humble opinion that there is 

 much unnecessary slaughter of birds by amateur ornithologists and 

 others ; and then to show, by a few anecdotes of bird ways from per- 

 sonal observation, that not a little of interest, and perhaps something 

 of value, may be learned of the habits of these interesting creatures, 

 without the aid of a gun. ■ If in so doing I am fortunate enough to 

 enlist in the ranks of the observers one recruit who has hitherto held 

 aloof, through his aversion to killing, I shall be satisfied that I am not 

 altogether on the wrong track. It is just about two years since I 

 began to observe birds with any care, and when I tell you that at that 

 time I knew barely fifty species and of many of these I had very hazy 

 ideas, though I had lived in their midst for twenty-five years, you will 

 be inclined to ask me where I kept my eyes all that time. It is a 

 question I have asked myself a thousand times, but as yet I have 

 received no answer. 



One of my first finds was a flock of Pine Siskins, which I surprised 

 feeding in a clump of cedars in February. It was a beautiful still, 

 bright day, an ideal clay for a snowshoe tramp, which I had been enjoy- 

 ing to the full, when I reached this bit of cedar swamp and stopped to 

 reconnoitre. I had not waited long when I heard the contented tril- 

 ling chirp of the feeding birds, and followed the sound till I came upon 

 them busily picking out and devouring the seeds of the cedar, and 

 scattering the husks broadcast upon the snow. I immediately levelled 

 my double-barrelled fowling piece (a field glass) upon them, and as this 

 did not seem to disturb them in the least, I gradually rtitfved towards 





