red and black bird which was always swinging from the willow twigs and singing, 

 ■ "Chir-r-r. bob-o-link, chir-r-r." 



In time, the nest was finished and four light colored eggs appeared. If her 

 nest were approached, the bird slipped ofi' behind the leaves and appeared else- 

 where, hopping and climbing from twig to twig and bush to bush, plainly unaware 

 of the existence of any nest. 



At almost any time of day, the shiny coated black, white, red and yellow 

 biid could be seen climbing ceaselessly up and down the willow tree and swinging 

 gracefully from tip to tip of the drooping branches and always singing his cheerful 

 song, "Chir-r-r, bob-o-link, chir-r-r." 



On the first of June, two ugly, naked little birds appeared. They had big, 

 bulging closed eyes and straggly legs and looked altogether unlovely. When we 

 peeped into the nest, the gaily colored bird swung wider on the willow tendrils, 

 climbed around faster and uttered a shrill warning "Chir-r-r, chir-r-r." I looked 

 at his shining, black plumage, splashed on the shoulders with gayer colors and 

 questioned what those ugly nestlings could be to him. The less excited brown 

 bird uttered the same, "Chir-r-r, chir-r-r." They must be mates. 



The nest was in a tiny elm tree growing close to the back fence on a slight 

 muddy ridge which arose above the surrounding swamp — a swamp made by the 

 drainage from Cal. Perry's cess-pool, Geo. Dodge's sewer, water from Honeoye 

 street, and from other homes along the bank; but none from us. The mud of 

 this swamp must have supported large numbers of the bug and grub families, 

 which the birds probably found because they often flitted to the ground and 

 searched in the mud. 



The black bird stripped the w'illow catkins as he swung head downward 

 and chewed them with great gusto. 



On the second of June, two more ugly, naked birdlings appeared. Both old 

 birds were now fairly frantic if any one approached the nest and we did not 

 tease them by staying near. 



The brilliant plumage of the male bird, flashing amid the foliage of the willow 

 was so common a sight and his cheery notes so common a sound that we spoke 

 of it the next day and said we would not have them wath us much longer, but we 

 little thought how short the time and how tragic the end. 



About 6 p. m., June third, we heard faint shots in Salomon's pasture and 

 supposed it was boys. When we rushed out, we were surprised to find it was Cal. 

 Perry and our beautiful birds, fatally wounded, were fluttering in the stinking 

 water of the swamp on Salomon's land. 



He said he was killing blackbirds which were pulling his corn — four short 

 rows 24 rods away on the other side of his house. They were never in our corn 

 which was near them. I had never seen them leave our premises except as they 

 were frightened about their young. 



Mr. Perry went home and I put on my rubber boots and waded into the 



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