jBlote^ from JTteld anti ^tudp 



A Talking Rose-breasted Grosbeak 



Early last summer while standing on my 

 back steps, I heard a cheerful voice say, 

 "You're a pretty bird. Where are you?" 

 I supposed it to be the voice of a Parrot, 

 but wondered how any Parrot could talk 

 loud enough to be heard at that distance, 

 for the houses on the street back of us are 

 quite a way off. 



Almost before I had done laughing, the 

 voice came again, clear, musical, and 

 strong — "You're a pretty bird. Where are 

 you?" 



For several days I endured the suspense 

 of waiting for time to investigate. Then I 

 chased him up. There he was in the top 

 of a walnut tree, his gorgeous attire telling 

 me immediately that he was a Rose- 

 breasted Grosbeak. 



At the end of a week he varied his com- 

 pliment to, "Pretty, pretty bird, where are 

 you ? Where are you? " With a kind of 

 impatient jerk on the last "you." 



He and his mate stayed near us all last 

 summer, and though I heard him talk a 

 hundred times, yet he always brought a 

 feeling of gladness and a laugh. 



Our friend has come back again this 

 spring. About May i, I heard the same 

 endearing compliment as before. 



Several of my friends whom I have told 

 about him have asked, "Does he say thg 

 words plainly? Do you mean that he really 

 talks?" My reply is, "He says them just 

 as plainly as a bird ever says anything, so 

 plainly, that even now I laugh whenever 

 I hear him." 



He is not very easily frightened and 

 sometimes talks quite a while when I am 

 standing imder the tree where he is. — 

 Emii,v B. Pellet, Worcester, Mass. 



Swallow Manceuvers 



On October 3, 1899, my attention was 

 called to a huge flock of Tree Swallows 

 about a quarter of a mile from my home. 



(i 



These birds are abundant here from July to 

 October, but on this occasion at least 2,000 

 — estimating from photographs and from 

 the counting of the live birds — were col- 

 lected on the telegraph wires and in the 

 adjoining fields, and not a single specimen 

 of any other species could be found in the 

 Hock. 



On the wires were hundreds at a time, 

 crowded together between three poles ; they 

 seemed to have lost their usual fear of man, 

 remaining even when carriages went under 

 them, and not always starting up when the 

 wires were struck by a stone — a temptation 

 to throw which the passing small boys found 

 it impossible to resist. 



Beside the road is a small brook with 

 two or three exposed pools, and here was a 

 great oval whirl of birds, all going in the 

 same direction, each in passing dipping for 

 a drink, then rising to re-take its place in 

 the line. Now and then some returned to 

 the wires or others joined the drinkers, but 

 the numbers were so great that a collision 

 seemed unavoidable. 



A large part of the flock had settled in a 

 pasture some distance away, in so close a 

 group that they made a spot of blue on the 

 short grass. Crossing over to these I found 

 them quietly enjoying the sunlight, and as 

 I approached from the southwest all had 

 their backs toward me, showing to perfec- 

 tion the beautiful steel-blue of the feathers. 

 Most of the time they were still, though 

 now and then one undertook to walk a few 

 inches, if, indeed, such a ridiculous hobble 

 could be called a walk. But forty feet was 

 near enough for a person — then those near- 

 est me rose and passing over the others, 

 alighted in front of them, and so they 

 moved regularly on before me. 



Some of this portion of the flock were on 

 a wire fence near at hand, a very small 

 proportion, though over 100 were on a single 

 wire between five posts, and these were so 

 fearless that when the last one flew I was 

 but two steps away. 



74) 



