RUFFLE-BREAST, THE SHRIKE 181 



One afternoon while watching a company of feeding 

 sparrows, Ruffle-Breast, who chanced to be roving about 

 the field, perched on a tall stake near by. At the first sound 

 of her harsh grating voice the sparrows became nervous. 

 Two or three fled to the friendly cover of a cedar tree, but 

 the others remained where they were, moving cautiously 

 about in the grass and speaking only in subdued tones. 

 Their uneasiness continued until the shrike resumed her 

 journey across the field. The sparrows did not regard her 

 with the terror which they would have shown had the 

 visitor been a hawk, nor with the unconcern which they 

 certainly would have manifested towards a crow, but the 

 feeling seemed to prevail in the company that they did not 

 care to be observed by her. Perhaps they felt much as 

 children do when playing in a yard and a large and much 

 dreaded dog passes along the sidewalk. 



A few days later I had an opportunity to observe an 

 incident which showed clearly that the sparrows had 

 abundant reason to dread the fierce gray bird which 

 prowled about their feeding ground. I noticed a bird 

 flying heavily across the field. It seemed to be carrying 

 something which hindered its flight, for every few yards it 

 would light on the ground. Presently it reached the edge 

 of the woods and perched among the limbs of a fallen pine 

 tree. Upon a near approach I found the bird to be none 



