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A BI-MONTHLY MAQAZENE 



DBVOTED TO THE STUDY AND PROTECTION OF BIRDS 



OrrieiAL Oroan of thc Audubon SoeicTii* 



Vol. IX November — December, 1907 No. 6 



A Thrashing by Thrashers 



By HERBERT K. JOR 



With photographs by the author 



SOMEWHERE, I had read that the Brown Thrasher is at times very bold in 

 defending its nest, even from human intrusion. But as the years slipped 

 by and I had inspected nest after nest of this species, in every case finding 

 the owners as timid as thc average song-bird, I began to wonder whether the 

 story was not the product of some nature-fakir's art, which needed the prover- 

 bial grain of salt. But one day I found out the truth of the matter. 



On the afternoon of June i8, 1906, toward sundown, I was driving homeward 

 along a country road, on one side of which was a farmhouse, and on the other 

 a bushy pasture. Here I saw a Brown Thrasher fly across the road just ahead 

 of me, carrying in its bill a large worm. It flew down into the pasture and alighted 

 upon the top of a dead sprout which projected from a thick clump of bushes. 

 After pausing a moment to look around, in order to be sure that the coast was 

 clear, down it went into the midst of the thicket. It was evident that there was 

 a nest somewhere near that spot, so I hitched the horse, took my 4 x 5 camera and 

 tripod, and went to investigate. But, though I made a careful search of the 

 thicket into which the Thrasher had gone, I could find no sign of the nest. After 

 looking it through again without success, I was about to look further away when 

 I began to hear some hissing sounds, which increased in vehemence as I began 

 to follow up this clue. It proved to be no snake, but the Brown Thrasher, sitting 

 close on a nest which was built into a cavity of the ground under the bushes. 

 There the bird remained, though I was but a step away, looking up into my face 

 and continuing to hiss, braving me and daring me to touch it. 



Withdrawing a little, I made ready the camera on the tripod. But the presen- 

 tation of that blunderbuss was too much for the Thrasher's nerves. It ran off into 

 the bushes, where it was joined by its mate, and both of them set up a great outcry. 

 I could now catch glimpses of them both, and discovered that the brighter-hued 

 one, the male, was the one which had been on the nest. No wonder they were 

 angry and anxious, for they had five promising young — ragged and uncouth, to be 

 sure — but fine, healthy young birds. After opening the bushes, to let in a little 



