114 Bird -Lore 



acted pleased, lifting his wings and talking rapidly. After that, he tried various 

 hiding-places, always giving one a long wait before he revealed himself. The 

 winter wore on, and all seemed to go well with him till toward spring, when he 

 sickened and refused to eat. He sat like a ghost bird, the white films covering 

 his soft eyes and his whole attitude suggesting a disembodied creature. Three 

 (lays passed before he showed any signs of life — then, he opened his eyes, 

 hopped down from his perch and asked for food. 



In March he was taken back to his shed, and great was his delight. Having 

 been away for a part of the winter, myself, upon my return in May I went at 

 once to visit him. As I approached the shed, I called softly, "Johnny, Apple- 

 dore Johnny, are you hungry?" On the instant, I heard the thud that indicated 

 that he had flown to the door. That this showed genuine recognition on his 

 part is proved by the fact that my sister, who had been feeding him in the shed 

 for two months, said that he never i\ew to meet her. Without doubt, he asso- 

 ciated my voice with his previous summer's training and responded by doing 

 what I had taught him. 



From that time I encouraged him to learn of the outside world. I opened 

 both doors and invited him to come out, but for three weeks he never ventured 

 to leave the shed. He watched passers-by with interest, and when he caught sight 

 of a Hawk soaring above, his quizzical look of inquiry would after a little give 

 way to indifference. Finally, I induced him to come out for his breakfast 

 and to play with me. He would pick up sticks and toss them, jum])ing about 

 and sometimes giving my dress a sharp pull; but, as soon as he realized that 

 he was really out of his shelter, as soon as he looked up at the great sky, he 

 would run as fast as he could back to the little world he knew. When the sun 

 shone bright and it fell on his wings, he would stretch them out to their fullest 

 spread, and then flap vigorously. In this way he learned to use them. Gradu- 

 ally, he would walk forth for a short distance, but always seemingly glad to be 

 brought back. In July he began to molt, and by the middle of August he had 

 shed his brown tail for a beautiful red one. His wings were splendid, his coat 

 was heavy and interlined with plenty of white down. His back showed a 

 bloom that looked in some lights violet, in others, gray. 



About this time a friend of ours who was studying at Bussey Institution 

 proposed sending me some of the choice mice they had there for experimental 

 purposes to feed Johnny upon, the question of providing sufficient and proper 

 food for him having become a big problem. I gladly accepted the offer, as 

 before this his game had been dead, and this would give me an oportunity of 

 watching a new phase of his development. The first live mouse that I gave 

 him excited him to a degree that can hardly be described. All the pent up wild- 

 ness of his nature seemed to seek an outlet. After striking it from my hand as 

 I held it by the tail, he continued to fly about wildly up and down, over and 

 around his quarters, gasping rather than screaming, and paying absolutely 

 no heed to me, I left him to quiet down and to enjoy his prey. When I opened 



