118 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 
him as he scratches among the leaves, crouch 
motionless close to the ground till I am as full of 
cramps as Caliban. Once, seeing him on the 
fence, I stand close to a tree and take an old dry 
golden-rod — curious freak it 1s too, with axillary 
flowers all the way up the stem— and hang it 
from a twig in front of me as a screen and in that 
way get a good look at him through my glass. 
Off his guard, he loses the alert nervous manner 
noticed at first, and seems winningly peaceful and 
social — but just as I] am allowing him all the 
virtues of the decalogue, he flies at a white-throat 
that presumes to light on the fence, and drives it 
off in a temper! 
I next find both Mr. and Mrs. Chewink by the 
corner of the fence where grain and water are 
kept for the birds, and when Mr. Chewink is not 
chasing after white-throats, they busy themselves 
hunting among the leaves. Near by a partridge 
sits motionless on a limb, so close to a tree she 
seems part of it. So much for being in the land- 
scape! JI take Madam Partridge’s hint, and 
perch myself on the fence with my back to a tree 
that stands by it; and, thanks to the device, when 
Mr. Chewink comes, after hopping about uncon- 
sciously just in range of my glass, he flies up on 
an arching blackberry stem only a few feet from 
me and sings softly to himself for several minutes 
without ever noticing me! 
After about a week a storm came that drove 
