RUFFLE-BREAST, THE SHRIKE 179 



and back, and each became in fact a grown bird. Their 

 general appearance was now not wholly unlike the mock- 

 ing bird for which they are sometimes mistaken by casual 

 observers. Ruffle-Breast was seen less frequently now, 

 and in the autumn it finally disappeared from its haunts 

 of babyhood and I saw it no more for a time. 



Early the next spring while crossing a field in which 

 stood a few neglected orange trees, I heard the eager calls 

 of a shrike issuing from among the leaves of one of the 

 smaller trees. The notes were recognizable as those of a 

 male anxiously seeking to assist its mate in selecting a 

 suitable nesting site. Just then the female alighted on a 

 neighboring tree with an answering call. I looked up and 

 there before me sat Ruffle-Breast, my old acquaintance, 

 she of the fence crack. It was a great pleasure to meet her 

 thus with a mate and the prospect of a nest not half a mile 

 from her own birthplace. 



A crotch in the orange tree six or seven feet from the 

 ground was settled upon as a suitable site for a nest, and 

 at once the construction of a home for their eggs began. 

 First, twigs and small weed stalks were brought, and on 

 the platform made by these, other materials, such as grass 

 blades, roots, strings and pieces of cotton were placed and 

 woven tightly and snugly together. Finally the structure 

 was completed by a layer of soft chicken feathers. Then 



