332 YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT 



were in front, and whistling in loud, aggravating 

 tones from the recesses of the next bush when 

 they had forced a way through the briars for a 

 sioht of him in the first. To the excited imasfi- 

 nations of his followers his two loud whistles and 

 the tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut that 'followed were as 

 taunting as if he were consciously poking fun at 

 his would-be observers. 



Washington, where this occurred, is blessed 

 with an abundance of the jovial musicians, and 

 the Zoological Park is as good a place to hear 

 them as the banks of the Potomac. When not 

 whistling, chuckling, or otherwise performing, the 

 Chat barks like a dog. It is only fair, however, 

 to say that in sober moments he has notes of rare 

 richness and liquidity. Indeed, his repertoire is 

 so varied that he is well called the ' Yellow Mock- 

 ingbird.' He sings at night ; serenades ? Per- 

 haps. One of his daylight amusements has been 

 described by Mr. Torrey. " I caught the fellow," 

 he says, "in the midst of a brilliant display of his 

 clownish tricks, ridiculous, indescribable. At a 

 little distance, it is hard to believe that it can be 

 a bird, that dancing, shapeless thing, balancing 

 itself in the air with dangling legs, and prancing, 

 swaying motions. Well, that is the Chat's way. 

 What more need be said ? Every creature must 

 express himself, and birds, no less than other 

 poets, are entitled to an occasional ' fine frenzy.' " 



The birds, it can well be imagined, are shy at 



