184 . NEWS FROM THE BIRDS. 



be allowed, although the place is a memorial 

 of the destructive effects of powder and lead 

 some thirty odd years ago. 



There are still some battles — or, perhaps, 

 they should be called only scrimmages — fought 

 in this peaceful place. Two male orchard ori- 

 oles were trying to settle a little unpleasantness 

 by resort to arms — or, to be more exact, to bills 

 and claws. They were a matured specimen in 

 his wedding dress of black and red, and a year- 

 old youngster still in his swain's suit of black 

 and yellow. The old bird flew down upon the 

 grass and sang his rollicksome tune, and then 

 flew up, meaning to find a perch in the tree ; 

 but unexpectedly on his way he encountered 

 his valiant young rival. The combatants closed 

 in the air, and struggled and squeaked as they 

 dropped to the ground, where for a quarter of 

 a minute or more they engaged in a set-to worthy 

 of 1863, pecking and clawing, and mixing them- 

 selves up in a kaleidoscopic medley of colors. 



When they parted and flitted up into the 

 trees, it was the youngster who Avas in pursuit 

 of the other. A demure maiden, the cause of 

 the contest, was moving mutely a])out in the 

 foliage, acting utterly unconcerned as to the 

 issue of the battle. I call it a battle to give 

 my sketch a deeper tinge of local coloring. 



