ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE BIRD. 945 
males fluttered above the battle with an appearance as 
if they were both shocked at the performance—always 
musical—for they have no scolding note, and fight 
singing. Shortly the home bird bore the other down 
in the watering trough. She got a little damp her- 
self, but was able to fly. Her mate followed her up 
to the home box caroling of her prowess. But she 
looked indeed as ‘mad as a wet hen,” and seemed 
to say by her manner that if he were half a man 
she would not have to do everything. I went out 
and took the other female out of the water where she 
was rapidly chilling to death, being too exhausted to 
rise. She simply floated, flapped her wings and cried 
piteously, like her tribe’s autumn call. I wrapped 
her in flannels, put her near the kitchen stove, and 
she recovered. I have often seen similar fights with 
all four birds engaged. It is as musical as an opera— 
and has more sense in it. 
So the rose-breasted grosbeaks have come under 
my window to fight. They, too, are always musical 
in battle, but their crimson breast spots give the affair 
quite a gory aspect. Sometimes I am aware of a bat- 
tle outside merely by the sound of snapping beaks 
that come through the open window. Usually the 
. jays, robins, and blackbirds, which are much of a size, 
settle these matters between them early, and live 
peaceably afterward. 
Of course, my standpoint shows me many transient 
birds. For many springs the olive-backed thrushes 
have stopped over with us for weeks, getting more 
abundant and confiding each year, and breaking re- 
