THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE. 



of the Oriole are among the must entrancing sounds which haunt our childhood 

 and maintain the freshness of advancing years. The female, too, is something 

 of a singer, and she whistles and chatters or answers her lord with cheerful 

 contentment as she moves about her task. 



The task which the Oriole sets herself in building her nest is one of the 

 most exacting in nature, and its fulfilment the most wonderful. Before the 

 advent of civilization she had to rely entirely upon vegetable fibers, especially 

 the inner bark of hemp, but now her preference is for string, silk, rags, and 

 ravelings. It is her preference, by the way, for she does the work, while her 

 chosen lord attends her flight, sings snatches of song, or i iffers gratuitous and 

 unheeded advice. So the poet is slightly in error when he says, 



"My Oriole 

 Is come at last, and, ever on the watch. 

 Twitches the pack-thread I had lightly wound 

 Around the bough to help his house keeping, — 

 Twitches and scouts by turns, blessing his luck, 

 Yet fearing me, who laid it in his way." 



But Lowell's lines are so expressive that we readily excuse the oversight and 

 eagerly call for more. 



"Heave ho! Heave ho! he whistles as the twine 

 Slackens its hold. Once more now ! and a flash 

 Lightens across the sunlight to the elm 

 Where his mate dangles at her cup of felt." 



From the slender tips of some branch, lie it drooping, as of elm or willow, 

 or ascending, as of maple or apple, she suspends a closely-woven pouch, which 

 yields to every impulse "of the wind, hut wins by yielding. By seven inches or 

 more her eggs are rem* wed fn mi alien beak and tali in. 



Tired of the confinement of the nest, the ambitious fledglings clamber up 

 the sides and perch upon the brim. From this less secure position they are not 

 infrequently dislodged before they are quite ready to face the world. The 

 following incident, which came under my notice some years ago, concerns a 

 young Bullock's Oriole, a closely allied species. A friend of mine secured a 

 fledgling Oriole, by rescuing it from the water where it had evidently just 

 fallen from an overhanging nest. When taken home it proved a ready pet, and 

 was given the freedom of the place. Some two weeks later my friend secured 

 another nestling Oriole from a different brood and put it in the cage with the 

 older bird. The newcomer hail not yet learned to feed himself, but only opened 

 Ids mouth and called with childish insistence. Judge of the owner's delight, 

 and mine as a witness, when the older bird, himself but a fledgling, began to 

 feed the orphan, with all the tender solicitude of a parent. It was irresistibly 



