180 STORIES OF BIRD LIFE 



the mother laid her eggs, brown-speckled beauties, one 

 each day until there were five in the nest. 



During the two weeks, or a little over, occupied in incu- 

 bating the eggs, Ruffle-Breast was seldom seen, and was 

 never away from the orange tree long at a time. Usually 

 her mate could be found in the vicinity of the nest, perched 

 on some tree top or high fence stake silently watching for 

 insects to appear in the grass or on the ploughed field; 

 for the shrike never hunts its food, but waits patiently 

 until its prey comes within reach and then jjounces upon it. 

 Sometimes the bird will pause in mid-air on hovering 

 wings and scan the earth below for the sight of some 

 coveted prize. 



Upon capturing a grasshopper or cricket or beetle, the 

 shrike often impales it upon a thorn and, using this as a 

 sort of tablefork to hold its victim, proceeds to make a 

 meal. If not hungry it will leave its prey thus transfixed 

 for hours, returning later in the day to eat it. From this 

 habit of hanging up food and leaving it, the bird has long 

 since acquired the name of ^'Butcherbird.'' During the 

 colder part of the year when there are few insects to be 

 procured the shrike subsists mainly on other kinds of 

 animal life. It catches mice, and even small birds at times 

 fall beneath its strong beak. I once saw a shrike endeavor- 

 ing to carry away a small dead chicken. 



