Orchard Oriole. 81 



he goes to another weed-stem, pouring out the strains of 

 confused melody as he flies. Not long does he swing on 

 the swaying stems, however; and now he is up and flut- 

 tering over the top of the high hedge bordering the 

 meadow, singing as he nears the perch and continuing 

 the scolding song as he balances near the tip of an up- 

 right branch.. As we stroll along the higher hedges, 

 whose long horizontal boughs drooj) over and form shady 

 archways under which we can walk with ease, the 

 orchard oriole cackles over our heads and flutters from 

 place to place, ever noticeable and ever prodigal of his 

 music. In the orchard he is especially at home, and what 

 the bobolink is to the meadow, this oriole is to the or- 

 chard, shifting into the tree above us with flowing melody 

 and curving away almost before he is fairly settled and 

 we have fastened our eyes upon him. • Even in town, he 

 is the same gay-spirited, rollicking fellow, loudly an- 

 nouncing his joys from tree to tree in the garden and 

 along the highway, tarrying only long enough to excite 

 our interest, and then hastening to another audience, but 

 leaving a trail of delightful music in his wake. 



It was my fortune to become familiar with the orchard 

 oriole before I learned much of the lifie of the resplen- 

 dent Baltimorean, for the latter kept beyond my boyish 

 circle of avian friends, exciting my admiration always, 

 but never coming within satisfactory distance, and thus 

 seeming to elude my closer study. In my rambles 

 through the orchard, I soon learned the ways of the 

 orchard oriole, and I derived more satisfaction from the 

 study of its manners than from my passing acquaintance 

 with the black-and-orange-liveried resident of the door- 

 yard. I found my friend no less abundant along the 

 wooded banks of the little creek where I went fishing in 

 my early days; and the gushing ecstasy of the cheerful 

 musician touched a responsive chord in my heart, awak- 

 ened to the delightful voices of nature. In the towns and 

 suburban gardens the voice of the orchard oriole can be 

 heard, and there it frequently establishes its home, 

 though it will not sufi^er repeated persecution and is 

 easily driven from any chosen resort. Its fluttering 

 form, clad in black and ornamented with reddish chest- 



