And then, at last, come the days when the gray-headed youngsters, from 

 lianging out of the window, boldly open their wings and launch into the air. 

 Anxious times these are for old birds, — times when the watcher's admiration 

 may be roused by heroic deeds of parental love; for many a parent bird fairly 

 flaunts in the face of the enemy, as if trying to say, "Kill me ; spare my young!" 



One family of Redheads once gave me a delightful three weeks. When the 

 old birds were first discovered, one was on a stub in a meadow. When joined 

 by its mate, as the farmer was coming with oxen and hayrack to take up the 

 rows of haycocks that led down the field, the pair flew slowly ahead along a 

 line of locusts, pecking quietly at the bark of each tree before flying on. At the 

 foot of the meadow they flew over to a small grove in the adjoining pasture. 



As it was July, it was easy to draw conclusions. And when I went to the 

 grove to investigate, the pair were so much alarmed that they at once corroborated 

 my conclusions. Did I mean harm? Why had I come? One of them leaned far 

 down across a dead limb and inspected me, rattling and bowing nervously; the 

 other stationed itself on the back of a branch over which it peered at me with 

 one eye. Both of them cried krit'-tar-rah every time I ventured to take a step. 

 As they positively would not commit themselves as to which one of the many 

 woodpecker holes in sight belonged to them I had to make a tour of the grove. 



On its edge was a promising old stub with a number of big, round holes 

 and, picking up a stick, I rapped on the trunk. Both birds were over my head 

 in an instant, rattling and scolding till you would have thought I had come to 

 chop down the tree and carry ofif the young before their eyes. I felt injured, 

 but, having found the nest, could afford to watch from a distance. 



It was not long before the old birds began feeding their young. They would 

 fly to the stub and stand under the nest while rousing the brood by rattling into 

 the hole, which had the odd efifect of muffling their voices. When, as they flew 

 back and forth a yellow-hammer stopped in passing, they drove him off in a 

 hurry. They wanted that grove to themselves. 



On my next visits, if, in spite of many precautions, they discovered me, they 

 flew to dead tree tops to watch me, or startled me by an angry "quarr, quarr, 

 quarr" over my head. • When they found that I made no attempt to go near the 

 nest, however, they finally put up with me and went about their business. 



After being at the nest together they would often fly ol¥ in opposite directions, 

 to hunt on different beats. If one hunted in the grove, the other would go out 

 to the rail fence. A high maple was a favorite lookout and hunting-ground for 

 the one who stayed in the grove, and cracks in the bark afforded good places 

 to wedge insects into. The bird who hunted on the fence, if suspecting a grub 

 in a rail, would stand as motionless as a robin on the grass, apparently listening; 

 but when the right moment came would drill down rapidly and spear the grub. 

 If an insect passed that way the redhead would make a sally into the air for it, 

 sometimes shooting straight up for fifteen or twenty feet and coming down almost 



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