THE KINGBIRD. 



You think, my young friends, 

 because I am called Kingbird I 

 should be large and fine looking. 



Well, when you come to read 

 about Kings in your history- 

 book you will find that size has 

 nothing to do with Kingliness. 

 I have heard, indeed, that some 

 of them were very puny little 

 fellows, in mind as well as in 

 body. 



If it is courage that makes a 

 king then I have the right to be 

 called Kingbird. They say I 

 have a reckless sort of courage, 

 because I attack birds a great 

 deal larger than myself. 



I would not call it courage to 

 attack anything smaller than 

 myself, would you? A big man 

 finds it easy to shoot a little bird 

 in the air; and a big boy does 

 not need to be brave to kill or 

 cripple some poor little animal 

 that crosses his path. He only 

 needs to be a coward to do that! 



I only attack my enemies, — the 

 Hawks, Owls, Eagles, Crows, 

 Jays, and Cuckoos. They would 

 destroy my young family if I did 

 not drive them away. Mr. Crow 

 especially is a great thief. When 

 my mate is on her nest I keep 

 a sharp lookout, and when one 

 of my enemies approaches I give 

 a shrill cry, rise in the air, and 

 down I pounce on his back ; I do 

 this more than once, and how I 

 make the feathers fly ! 



The little hawks and crows I 

 never attack, and yet they call 

 me a bully. Sometimes I do go 

 for a Song-bird or a Robin, but 

 only when they come too near my 

 nest. People w^onder why I never 

 attack the cunning Catbird. I'll 

 never tell them, you may be sure! 



To what family do I belong? 

 To a large family called Fly- 

 catchers. Because some Kings 

 are tyrants I suppose, they call 

 me the Tyrant Flycatcher. Look 

 for me next summer on top of a 

 wire fence or dead twig of a tree, 

 and watch me, every few min- 

 utes, dash into the air, seize a 

 passing insect, and then fly back 

 to the same perch again. 



Any other names ? Yes, some 

 folks call me the Bee Bird or Bee 

 Martin. Once in awhile I change 

 my diet and do snap up a bee ! 

 but it is always a drone, not a 

 honey-bee. Some ill-natured 

 people say I choose the drones 

 because they can't sting, and 

 not because they are tramp bees 

 and will not work. 



Sing? Yes, when my mate is 

 on her nest I please her with a 

 soft pretty song, at other times 

 my call-note is a piercing- Kyrie- 

 K-y-rie ! I live with you only 

 in the summer. When Sep- 

 tember comes I fly away to a 

 warmer climate. 



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