bird enthusiasts and were out on an opera-glass hunt, he entered into the spirit 

 of the occasion and gave us much information. He was in a receptive mood 

 as well, and I hope that he gained knowledge enough to pay him for what he 

 imparted. 



A high-pitched voice, calling "Peter, Peter, Peter," came from some trees 

 on the hillside. The boy stopped his horses. 



"I've seen and heard that bird ever since I was born," he said ; "I call him 

 Peter, because that's what he calls himself, but what the bird is I don't know ; 

 tell me." 



By this time I had the bird in the field of my glass, and I told the boy 

 driver its name, though this Avas my first glimpse in life of "Peter." The dis- 

 covery of a bird new to the observer makes a red-letter field-day. "Peter" 

 was the tufted titmouse, first cousin to the chickadee. "Tufty" is common 

 enough in the southern Indiana latitude, and is occasionally seen as far north 

 as Chicago, though it had never been my fortune to meet him. Soon more of 

 the titmice came into sight. There was a troop numbering nearly a score. They 

 are active little creatures, and of a jolly temperament. For a week I had 

 ample opportunity to study "Tufty" and his ways ; and with all due regard 

 for our little friend, the black-cap chickadee, who does his best to save our 

 Northern winters from dreariness, I confess that I think Cousin Peter is of 

 the more interesting habit. 



A woodpecker note that was new made me ask our driver to stop once 

 more. An orange-pated bird scuttled around the trunk of a tree. Here was 

 another discovery. It was the red-bellied woodpecker, common enough in 

 this locality, but hitherto a stranger to the visiting observers. This woodpecker 

 has been getting himself much disliked in recent years. It is not at all an un- 

 common bird in Florida, and there the orange growers say that it attacks and 

 ruins the fruit. Bird lovers, the country over, ,are hoping that it will be 

 proved that the bird selects only the unsound oranges for probing. Since it 

 has been fairly well established that the kingbird, which was supposed to be a 

 great destroyer of honey bees, eats only the worthless drones, the red-bellied 

 woodpecker's friends hope that a parallel excuse may be found for its conduct. 



We drove under a tree whose branches roofed the road. It was filled with 

 red-winged blackbirds. They were all males, and as they shifted uneasily from 

 twig to twig, they showed to advantage their shoulder-knots of scarlet and 

 gold. It was a noisy flock, but in the spring every bird-note has in it some- 

 thing of softness. Our driver host told us that the redwings were abundant in 

 spring and fall, but that they did not nest anywhere in the vicinity. This state- 

 ment struck me as being curious, for on every side were places which seemed 

 to be ideal for the purposes of blackbird housekeeping. Beyond the blackbird 

 tree we saw our first meadowlark. He was full of the joy of living, and was 

 trying his best to tell the listening world about it from the top of a fence- 

 post. We drove past the bird without causing him to leave his perch. I have 



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