CEDAR WAXWING 95 



Enemies. — The cedar waxwiiig has no special enemies, only those 

 that prey commonly on most small birds. In the time of the older 

 ornithologists, however, the bird was shot for food, and the slaughter 

 of great numbers was made easy by their habit of flying in close 

 flocks. 



Audubon's (1842) remarks on the subject are interesting in these 

 days of wildlife conservation. He says: "They fatten, and become 

 so tender and juicy as to be sought by every epicure for the table. 

 I have known an instance of a basketful of these little birds having 

 been forwarded to New Orleans as a Christmas present. The donor, 

 however, was disappointed in his desire to please his friend in that 

 city, for it was afterwards discovered that the steward of the steamer, 

 in which they were shipped, made pies of them for the benefit of the 

 passengers." 



Herbert Friedmann (1929) speaks of the cedarbird as ''an uncom- 

 mon victim" of the cowbird. He says : "This is to be expected when 

 we consider that this bird starts nesting after the laying season of 

 the Cowbird is well past its height. There are cases on record from 

 various places — New York, Connecticut, and Montana. Aside from 

 these few records there are no data available." 



In a later paper on this subject, he (1934) adds two records, both 

 in western Canada. 



Fall. — If we look for the waxwings in New England in the fall, 

 after their late breeding season is over and the young are fully grown, 

 say in mid-September, we often find them collected in a small flock 

 of a dozen or so, perched high in a dead tree or in the top of a leafless 

 bush. For a time they sit erect, silent, and motionless; then, in a 

 body — a half dozen or more perhaps — they start out into the air 

 on a steady flight, flying with a few rapid flips of the wings, then 

 a short pause, a flight slightly undulating like that of English spar- 

 row.s. At first we may surmise that they are flycatching, pursuing 

 the insects that are abundant in the air at this season of the year, 

 but as we keep the birds in our eye we see that they neither turn 

 nor pause, but hold straight onward in a protracted, uninterrupted 

 flight. They may even pass out of sight, 200 or 300 yards away, flying 

 all together, but in a loose flock, and if we wait, watching for their 

 possible return, we see that they do return, back to the same tree, even 

 to the same branches they left not 5 minutes before. Here they rest 

 for a while, standing straight up on their perches, like little falcons, 

 silent as before. 



Some few, however, may not have flown with the others but stay 

 behind at their temporary headquarters; on the next flight, however, 

 every one may fly away, leaving the tree empty while they make a 

 circuit far out and back. In these long flights the birds are nearly 

 silent — we hear from them only an occasional faint, hissing whisper. 



