AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 157 



song. Following it, I found him down on the orchard gate. When he saw 

 me he ceased singing, and came hopping along from picket to picket, towards 

 me. His feathers were ruffled, his wings and tail frayed. He did not find 

 outdoor life to his liking, I know. He was hungry. I gave him some meal 

 worms and placed in his cage. I fancied I could see him brighten up on the 

 instant. All summer long he sang for us, and even at night his voice floated 

 out on the moonlit air. 



When the moulting season came he ceased his singing for a few weeks, 

 but the moult was never afterwards so hard for him as that first year. We 

 kept him for several years and he was ever a source of pleasure and amuse- 

 ment for the household. 



One morning in January I went to his cage to greet him. He was not 

 there. In the night he had joined the choir invisible. 



Kansas City, Mo. 



ORIOLES AND PLUMS. 

 By Nelson A. Jackson. 



In the front yard of the house where I formerly lived, there is a large 

 plum tree, the fruit of which is especially sweet and juicy. This tree is a 

 favorite feeding ground for various insect eaters. 



One summer two sparrows built their nest in the end of one of the branches, 

 so that I could almost reach it from the window. 



Every spring this tree is visited by several pairs of orioles, who diligently 

 search for insects and larvae. During the summer nothing is seen of the 

 orioles about the house. In the early autumn, however, just before the plums 

 begin to ripen, I always notice these birds hopping about on the branches, 

 examining the fruit. As soon as the first plum turns and becomes at all mel- 

 low, I will either see the oriole puncture the skin and apparently drink the 

 sweet juice, or else the ruined fruit, after the bird has left. If I stepped out 

 on the porch while the birds were in the tree, I received a sound scolding 

 from them. 



After the plums were gathered the orioles would return to the tree for 

 several days, jumping about, searching for the stray plums, all the while 

 scolding indignantly as if the picking were an outrage. About half of the 

 plums were ruined, but never mind, the birds more than paid for their 

 drink of plum juice, by their spring's work of clearing all the fruit trees of 

 injurious insects. 



I seems strange that, at one time, I never saw but one pair of orioles at 

 work on the plums, whether it was always the same pair. I do not know, 

 and I never found any other birds drinking plum juice. I should think that 

 the English Sparrows and Robins would have been on hand, since they are 

 very fond of grapes. Evidently plum juice is not to their taste. 



