A STBANGE CRY. 139 



mer morning, near the middle of June, and 

 when I reached the spot not a bobolink was in 

 sight ; but I sought a convenient bank under an 

 old ajDple-tree, made myself as inconspicuous as 

 possible, and waited. With these birds, how- 

 ever, as I soon found out, my precautions were 

 unnecessary. They are not chary of their music ; 

 on the contrary, they appear to sing directly to 

 a spectator, and they are too confident of the se- 

 curity of the nest to be disturbed about that. In 

 a moment a black head with its buff cap ap- 

 peared at the top of a grass stem, and instantly 

 the black body, with its grotesque white decora- 

 tion, followed. The bird flew half a dozen feet, 

 singing as he went, as if the movement of the 

 wings set the music going, alighted a little nearer, 

 sang again, and finally, concluding that here 

 was something to be looked after, a human 

 being, such as he was accustomed to see pass by, 

 taking possession of a part of the bobolink do- 

 main, he flew boldly to a small tree a few yards 

 from me. He alighted on the top twig, in plain 

 sight, and proceeded to "look me over," a per- 

 formance which I returned with interest. He 

 was silent only a few seconds, but the sound 

 that came from his beak amazed me ; it was a 

 "mew." If the cat-bird cry resembles that of a 

 cat, this was a perfect copy of a kitten's weak 

 wail. It was always uttered twice in close 



