THE MUSEUM. 



307 



wings and all go up into the trees. A 

 young Redtail approaches and settles 

 right in their midst. Not a single one 

 of the Blackies leaves the trees; the 

 only precaution they take is that they 

 gain a position above him. They are 

 evidently not a bit afraid of him. His 

 eyes are fixed upon the ground beneath, 

 but he does not find there what he is 

 looking for. The Redwings have mo- 

 nopolized the persimmon grounds to 

 the exclusion of fur-bearing lovers of 

 the tidbit. 



From dozens of happy throats comes 

 the pleasing song of the Meadowlark; 

 they seem to take now the leading 

 part in the concert, which the Robin 

 had a little earlier^; in the morning. 

 Into the tree above us a party of Gold- 

 finches drops for a minute. They rest, 

 but only their wings rest; the tongues 

 do not rest, and though there are only 

 a dozen birds overhead, one could 

 think there were several scores of 

 them, every one saying something 

 pleasant. 



Now a great big bird lazily wings 

 its short way across the spatter docks 

 and alights about 200 yards away in 

 the smartweeds. It is a Bittern, and 

 for fully three minutes the cautious 

 bird never moves a muscle; with long, 

 out-stretched neck, and with bill point- 

 ed skyward, it stands immovably erect 

 until it stoops down into the weeds 

 and disappears. This seems to be 

 the signal for his comrade to join him, 

 and following in the same track 

 through the air, he alights at the same 

 spot. 



All the while, since we are here, the 

 border of the lake, the oozy region of 

 the willows and elbow wood, has nei- 

 ther been deserted nor neglected. 

 "When we came we found a number of 



Savanna Sparrows, all dark-spotted 

 birds with rich yellow suffusion about 

 the head. There are several Swamp 

 Sparrows scattered along the edge of 

 the water, and we are treated to a 

 few fine recitations by the Song Spar- 

 rows behind the curtain. A Lincoln 

 Sparrow, slips steathily through the de- 

 bris at our feet and a Snipe, the beau- 

 ty of w^hose plumage can never be ap- 

 preciated after death, nimbly runs 

 away a few yards, sits deliberately 

 down on the oozy ground and for a 

 moment seems to consider the possi- 

 bilities of escape. Having the exam- 

 ple fresh in mind, we also play the 

 Bittern and soon have the satisfaction 

 to see our beautiful Longbill resume 

 its wonted occupation until, frighten- 

 ed by the sudden appearance of a 

 Coot in the smartweeds near by, it 

 jumps into the air and with a nasal 

 sound of leave darts into space un- 

 known. 



What is this, sitting in the willows 

 in front of us.^ We see its back only, 

 but this black-streaked head above a 

 peculiarly yellow neck looks very sus- 

 picious. Have we not been looking 

 out for such a distinctly marked bird 

 for a long time.' Should it be Baird's 

 Sparrow.' What else could it be.^ 

 Look at the fawn-colored rump, the 

 plain unmarked area reaching high up; 

 indeed, the spotted area of the upper 

 part being more like a saddle, hardly 

 more than an inch in width, all the 

 rest of the upper part being a brown- 

 ish-yellow of such a peculiar warm 

 tint, that it has no equal. The tail is 

 blackish and slender. Now, how 

 obliging! It hops to another twig and 

 presents its underparts in all their 

 characteristic beauty: A pure white 

 with a collar of real black adorning 



