A YELLOW-HEADED MONSTER. ITS 



limbs, to attack the problem of delay for them- 

 selves; to wait is not a blackbird possibility. 

 It is needless to say that such preternaturally 

 sharp and wide-awake Young Americans very 

 soon graduate from the nursery. 



The last trial that came to the blackbird, and 

 the one, perhaps, that induced him finally to 

 abandon his watch-towers and join his friends on 

 the bank farther down, was the appearance one 

 day in the meadow of a new importation from 

 the city, a boy marked out for notice by a strik- 

 ing yellow-and-black cap. The instant he en- 

 tered the inclosure afar off, the redwing uttered 

 a shriek of hopeless despair, as who should say, 

 " What horrible yellow-headed monster have we 

 here ? " and as long as he remained the bird 

 cried and bewailed his fate and that of his 

 family, as if murder and sudden death were the 

 sure fate of them all. It was the last act in 

 the blackbird drama on the meadow. 



Between my morning in the pasture and my 

 afternoon down the meadow, were two or three 

 hours of rest beside my window, and there, too, 

 the drama of life went on. On one side was an 

 orchard — an orchard, alas ! without bluebirds, 

 for it was the summer following the dreadful 

 tragedy in Florida, where thousands perished of 

 hunger, and not one of the blue-coated darlings 

 was to be seen where had always been many. 



