120 OUR FEATHERED FRIENDS. 
top of his tree, safe out of your reach, that little rascal 
of a mocker will “ peep” again, and then you will under- 
stand that it is only one of his jokes. Often they sing 
beautiful songs by the hour, and we le awake to hear, 
laughing at the racket, or holding our breath to catch 
the last note of some wonderful melody. 
Besides the mocking-bird you may hear the owl, 
though you cannot be quite sure that it is not the 
mocker again. In the dusk, when it is just ght 
enough to see a little, you may catch a glimpse of the 
“Poor Will,’”! darting about for his supper among the 
belated gnats and flies. 
When this bird came to California he left off saying 
“Whip Poor Will,” and so has but two notes. “ Poor 
Will” is not whipped in this beautiful land. 
One will have to get up very early to see the fun 
among the birds in the morning. A chirp in the twi- 
light, the breakfast bell ringing from the throat of the 
first bird up, and then how astir are the trees and the 
bushes, and the whole yard or field! It is impossible 
for you to tell where the little songsters came from so 
suddenly, just as it was impossible for you to tell 
where they went to sleep the night before. 
If there is a tub of water by the pump, the rim of it 
will soon be covered by the birds; or, better still, if 
there is a leaky hydrant, or a spring in the berry patch, 
or a puddle in the orchard, there you will see what is 
sure to make you laugh. 
1 Phaenoptilus nuttalli californicus. 
