A Book on Birds 



looks upon you quietly, and seems not 

 at all disturbed over your presence, but 

 pleased. 



Once, toward evening in a deep thicket 

 redolent with the ivory-white clusters of 

 the wild-cherry, he was so interested in 

 the frequent short swoops he made through 

 the branches close to the ground, while 

 capturing gnats and flies for supper, that 

 he appeared almost inchned to invite my 

 co-operation with him in his efforts, nearly 

 touching my head several times, or even 

 alighting upon it when his victims flew 

 close to me; until I think he might have 

 taken them from my fingers had I tried 

 to catch them for him. 



And he is not only tame with those whose 

 woodland manners are correct, but also 

 very beautiful of form and color. The 

 dark, rich olive of his back and tail makes 

 a charming foil for the wavy stripes of 

 pure white upon his wings, and the delicate 

 yellow of his breast. His head, which has 

 only a suggestion of the crest which is so 

 conspicuous in others of his family, is 



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