THE CATBIRD. 323 



sides Iiave their share ; but they also display a decided preference for the 

 \'icinage of man, and, if allowed to, will frequent the orchards and the rasp- 

 berry bushes. They help themselves pretty freely to the fruit of the latter, 

 but their services in insect-eating cc:>mpensate for their keep, a hundred-fold. 

 Nests are placed almost anywhere at moderate heights, but thickety places are 

 preferred, and the wild rosebush is acknowledged to be the ideal spot. The 

 birds exhibit the greatest distress when their nest is disturbed, and the entire 

 neighborhood is aroused to expressions of sympathy by their pitiful cries. 



My friend. Dr. James Ball Naylor, of Malta, Ohio, tells the following 

 story in answer to the oft-repeated question. Do animals reason? The poet's 

 house nestles against the base of a wooded hill and looks out upon a spacious 

 well-kept lawn which is studded with elm trees. The place is famous for 

 birds and the neighborhood is equally famous for cats. Robins occasionallv 

 ■\-enture to glean angle worms upon the inviting expanses of this lawn, but for 

 a bird to attempt to cross it unaided by wing would be to invite destruction 

 as in the case of a lone soldier climbing San Juan hill. One day, however, a 

 fledgling Catbird, overweening and disobedient, we fear, fell from its nest 

 overhead and sat helpless on the dreaded slopes. The parents were beside 

 themselves with anxiety. The birdie could not fly and would not flutter to 

 any purpose. There was no enemy in sight but it was only by the sufferance of 

 fate, and moments were precious. In the midst of it all the mother disap- 

 peared and returned presently with a fat green worm, which she held up to 

 baby at a foot's remove. Baby hopped and floundered forward to the juicy 

 morsel, but when he had covered the first foot, the dainty was still six inches 

 away. Mama promised it to him with a flood of encouragement for every 

 effort, but as often as the infant advanced the mother retreated, renewine 

 her blandishments. In tliis way she coaxed her bab}' across the lawn and up, 

 twig by twig, to the top of an osage-orange hedge which bounded it. Here, 

 according to Dr. Naylor, she fed her child the worm. 



Comparing the scolding and call notes of the Catbird with the mewing of 

 a cat has perhaps been a little overdone, but the likeness is strong enough to 

 lodge in the mind and to fasten the bird's "trivial name" upon it forever. Be- 

 sides a mellow />/;///. />/;/// in the bush, the bird has an aggra\'ating incc-a-a, 

 and a petulant call note which is nothing less than Ma-a-r\, Cautious to a 

 degree and timid, the bird is oftener heard in the depth of the thicket than 

 elsewhere, Init lie sometimes mounts the tree-top, and the opening "Phut, phut, 

 coquillicot" — as Neltje Blanchan hears it — is the promise of a treat. 



Generalizations are apt to be inadequate when applied to singers of such 

 brilliant and varied gifts as the Catbird's It would be impertinent to say: 

 Homo sapiens has a cultivated voice and produces music of the highest order. 

 Some of us do and some of us do not. Similarly some Catbirds are "self- 

 conscious and affected," "pause after each phrase to mark its efTect upon the 



& 



