Shrike WESTERN BIRDS 



hardly confuse the two. Even if the thick, hooked bill, 

 or bridle through eye of the Butcher-bird could not be 

 seen, the difference in the shape of the two birds ought 

 to be enough, the Shrike being short and plump, rather 

 than long and slender like the Mockingbird. He is a 

 clearer gray and is in every way handsomer. 



In actions he is stoical and slow, rather than alert and 

 quick. I have watched Madam Mocker giving one of 

 these birds such a scolding that he soon flew away, 

 seemingly glad to escape her harsh tongue. Standing on 

 the wire a few feet from him, she had evidently been 

 telling him what she thought of him, and it was any- 

 thing but complimentary, I felt sure. In no way did 

 the Shrike resent this tirade but moved on when he 

 found that he was not wanted. 



In its habits it is practically the same bird as the 

 eastern and one knowing one could not mistake the 

 other. 



The ordinary call of the Shrike is a harsh, rasping 

 screech that is rather disconcerting. Few people know 

 that the bird has a rather sweet, warbling song that is 

 low and not unmusical. In southern California I have 

 heard this song when nesting duties were over as well as 

 during the winter months. The birds seem to like a 

 high place to sing from, one of them choosing the highest 

 pinnacle of the highest eucalyptus in my neighborhood; 

 and down the street another bird was singing from a 

 telephone pole. For several days the bird on the tree 

 sang from the same perch and he seemed as full of the 

 joy of singing as ever does the gray minstrel for whom 

 he is sometimes mistaken. 



These birds are rather shy about their nests and dis- 

 like being watched. They are fond of orange groves as 

 nesting sites, but also use thorny shrubs and low bushes, 

 or trees, when outside the orange grove district. The 

 nest is a bulky affair which is made of sticks, grasses, 



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