204 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



though to remind me not to go off without him. 

 Growing restless, I moved the bushes a little — 

 they were so stiff they made a very good chair- 

 back if one got into the right position — when 

 suddenly, looking up I saw my phainopepla 

 friend vault into the air from a bush behind me, 

 where, apparently, he had been sitting taking 

 notes of his own ! What observers birds are, to 

 be sure! The best of us have much to learn 

 from them. 



But though the phainopepla was most watchful, 

 he was open to conviction, and he and his mate 

 at last concluded that I meant them no harm. 

 Afterwards, when I moved, they both came and 

 looked at me, but went about their business 

 quite unmindful of me. 



As I had seen from the outset, the male did 

 almost all the building. When his spouse came 

 in sight he burst out into a tender joyous love 

 song. She went to the nest now and again, but 

 generally when she came it was to sun herself 

 on the bare perch tree, where she dressed her 

 plumes or merely sat with crest raised and her 

 soft gray feathers fluffed about her feet, while 

 waiting for her mate to get leisure to take a run 

 with her. 



When he had finished his stint and she was 

 not about, he would take his turn on the perch 

 tree, his handsome glossy black coat shining in 

 the sun. If an unwitting neighbor lit on his tree 



