164 



THE MUSEUM. 



cannibal Crow, visited the tree, and 

 before assistance could be rendered he 

 gobbled a little bird. Upon discovery 

 he flew up into the locust tree, whence 

 he fell to my father's gun. He now 

 sits with becoming solemnity and se- 

 dateness on a shelf of my museum, a 

 monument to himself and his uncon 

 scions wickedness. There could be no 

 question of his guilt, as I found the 

 young Robin, head, legs and all intact 

 in his stomach — swallowed whole, like 

 an oyster or other dainty. 



Here was circumstantial evidence 

 that the shrewdest Yankee lawyer 

 could scarcely get around. The three 

 remaining birds lived to attain the full 

 proportion of feathered Robin-hood, 

 and another brood was reared in the 

 same tree with an uneventful history. 

 So it will be seen that there are ups 

 and downs and ins and outs and mov- 

 ings and tragedies even, in the affairs 

 of birds as well as in those of men. 



Late in April when the willows 

 along water courses turn to green lat- 

 tices and the rough arms of old or- 

 chards are pranked with the dainty 

 freshness of green buds, that animated 

 sheaf of gold held together by a silver 

 band of song — the Yellow Warbler, 

 comes to us again. I remember, that 

 in early oological days we boys used 

 to call him the "Salad Bird," not an 

 unfitting name either as his golden- 

 green coat most vividly oalls to mind 

 its like in the bed of crisp yellow-green 

 leaves growing in your lettuce bed in 

 the garden. This dainty little pair of 

 winged-nuggets love to nest in our lilac 

 bushes. Anu it is a picture long to 

 be remembered, to see the sunny pair 

 amid the green branches, weaving 

 their "procreant cradle" of the bright 

 silver fibre of several species of milk 

 weed {asclefias). He is all activity, 

 all enthusiasm, all song, as he catches 

 insects. 



A pair of Chipping Sparrows — the 

 "Hair-birds," of the farmer boys, built 

 their nest in the ampelopsis vine that 

 overhung one of my second story win- 

 dows. Here when I could look out on 



the five blue-green, black-speckled 

 eggs which bloomed out presently in- 

 to five growing young, the pair lived 

 a happy and unmolested honeymoon 

 or more. Not so was it with the 

 couple which built their nest in a gar- 

 den plum tree. This bird is a notor- 

 iously poor nest builder, never fasten- 

 ing it to the branch, the nest looking 

 more as if some one had taken it from 

 some other tree and stuck it up where 

 you find it. Well, a storm came and 

 the plum tree nest and its fragile con- 

 tents were dashed to the ground. And 

 other nests of this species in the gar- 

 den have fared no better. 



A Phcebe or Pewee built its nest up 

 on the flat top of a bracket of the 

 cornice under the eave above my win- 

 dow. In early mornings I could see 

 the shadows of the birds ascending 

 and descending on the curtain of my 

 window, as they tended the hearty 

 eating family. Their favorite perch- 

 place was the wire clothes line. There 

 the male would sit and reiterate his 

 rather monotonous "Pee-a-wee! Pee-' 

 a-wee!" 



I had tried to induce Wrens to nest 

 on the premises but without success. 

 For several years I had two tempting 

 boxes nailed up on the brick wall just 

 outside my bed room window. One 

 May morning in '96 while working in 

 the garden I heard a Wren singing 

 with all his might "in the apple tree 

 just over the way. " "Now," said I 

 to myself, "I am going to capture that 

 little fellow to sing for us all summer." 

 So I hurried up stairs, took down one 

 of the boxes, brought it down and 

 nailed it up in the pear tree. And in 

 less than ten minutes Jennie Wren 

 took formal possession by withdrawing 

 after a barely inspection of the inter- 

 ior and returning with a twig forthwith. 

 Having put that much furniture in, he 

 sang around for a while, then left, re- 

 turning in a few days with Jenny whom 

 I suppose he had found, woed and won 

 mean time, on the principle that, 



"Happy's the woeing. that's speedily doing. " 





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