HE CLIMBED THE TREE. 153 



The young oriole, however, does not lack in- 

 telligence. A correspondent tells me of one 

 who, starting out too ambitiously in his first 

 flight, landed on the ground instead of on the 

 tree he had selected, and, looking about for a 

 place of safety, saw a single leaf growing a few 

 feet up on the trunk of a tree. That so inex- 

 perienced an infant should notice it was sur- 

 prising, but that he should at once start for it 

 showed remarkable " mother wit." To reach 

 this haven of refuge, he ascended the tree-trunk 

 a few inches, half flying and half climbing, 

 clinging with his claws to the bark to rest, then 

 scrambling upward a few inches farther, and so 

 on till he reached the leaf, when he perched on 

 its tiny stem, and remained there as long as he 

 was watched. 



But to return to my place among the ferns. 

 When I had been there some time, silent and 

 motionless, a catbird at my back, too happy to 

 be long still, would take courage and charm me 

 with his wonderful whisper song, an ecstatic 

 performance which should disarm the most pre- 

 judiced of his detractors. Occasionally, his 

 mate, as I supposed, uttered warning cries, and 

 in deference to her feelings, as it appeared, his 

 notes dropped lower and lower, till I could 

 scarcely hear them, though he was not ten feet 

 away. The song of the catbird is rarely appre- 



