132 Birds Every Child b'houCd Know 



beak? The latter lady has not a rose-coloured 

 feather on her. She is a streaked, brown bird, 

 resembling an overgrown sparrow, with a 

 thick, exaggerated finch bill and a conspicuous, 

 white eyebrow. When her husband wears his 

 winter clothes in the tropics, his feathers are 

 said to be similar to hers, so that even his name, 

 then, does not fit. But when he returns to the 

 United States in May he is, in very truth, a rose- 

 breasted grosbeak. His back is as black as a 

 chewink's; underneath he is grayish white, 

 and a patch of lovely, brilliant, rose colotir on 

 his breast, with wing linings of the same shade, 

 make him a splendidly handsome fellow. Per- 

 haps before you get a glimpse of the feathers 

 that are his best means of introduction, you 

 may hear a thin eek call-note from some tree-top, 

 or better still, listen to the sweet, pure, mellow, 

 joyously warbled song, now loud and clear, now 

 softly tender, that puts him in the first rank of 

 our songsters. 



Few birds so conspicuously dressed risk the 

 safety of their nests either by singing or by being 

 seen near it, but this gentle cavalier not only 

 carries food to his brooding mate but actually 

 takes his turn at sitting upon the pale-greenish, 

 blue-speckled eggs. As a lover, husband, and 

 father he is irreproachable. 



A friend who reared four orphan grosbeaks 

 says that they left the nest when about eleven 



