8 NEWS FROM THE BIRDS. 



at me, as if they wondered what might be my 

 opinion of them. 



After watching them a ^vhile, I made my 

 way to my favorite marsh, where I learned 

 something new about a very familiar friend. 

 A red- winged blackbird sat upon a small tree 

 and sang his gurgling melody, " 0-o-o-gl-e-e ! 

 o-o-o-gl-e-e ! " and then, much to my surprise, 

 broke into a fine, high-pitched twitter that I 

 had never heard before. At first I looked 

 around for another bird, but soon proved be- 

 yond a doubt that Mr. Eedwing was the au- 

 thor of the half-musical, half-squeaking ditty. 

 It seemed to be a sort of complaint, as if the 

 bird were saying, "I do M'ish that man would 

 go away, and not disturb me while I am re- 

 hearsing my solo." 



Let me describe another ramble taken on 

 a delightful June day to what I may call " a 

 bii^ds' meadow." A ride on the electric car to 

 a park beyond the outskirts of the town, a 

 pleasant walk through the park, followed by 

 a tramp through a large tract of timber, 

 brought me to the charmed inclosure. It was 

 a long, narrow strip of green running up into 

 the woods, very quiet and secluded. Not a 

 house was in sight, and at only one or two 

 places could I catch a glimpse of a carriage 



y" 



