18 BIRDS AND POETS 
ble, thimble, if I break every heart in the meadow, 
see, see, see!” 
At the approach of the breeding season the bobo- 
link undergoes a complete change; his form changes, 
his color changes, his flight changes. From mot- 
tled brown or brindle he becomes black and white, 
earning, in some localities, the shocking name of 
“skunk bird;” his small, compact form becomes 
broad and conspicuous, and his ordinary flight is 
laid aside for a mincing, affected gait, in which he 
seems to use only the very tips of his wings. It is 
very noticeable what a contrast he presents to his 
mate at this season, not only in color but in man- 
ners, she being as shy and retiring as he is forward 
and hilarious. Indeed, she seems disagreeably seri- 
ous and indisposed to any fun or jollity, skurrying 
away at his approach, and apparently annoyed at 
every endearing word and look. It is surprising 
that all this parade of plumage and tinkling of cym- 
bals should be gone through with and persisted in 
to please a creature so coldly indifferent as she really 
seems to be. If Robert O’Lincoln has been stimu- 
lated into acquiring this holiday uniform and this 
musical gift by the approbation of Mrs. Robert, as 
Darwin, with his sexual selection principle, would 
have us believe, then there must have been a time 
when the females of this tribe were not quite so 
chary of their favors as they are now. Indeed, I 
never knew a female bird of any kind that did not 
appear utterly indifferent to the charms of voice and 
plumage that the male birds are so fond of display- 
