20 THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD. 
Cowbirds make common cause with Redwings in the northern migrations ; 
but the last named preponderate, and it is they who are most vivacious, most 
resplendent, and most nearly musical. ‘The Redwing’s mellow kongqueree 
or occasional tipsy whoop-er-way-up is the life of the party. 
Almost before we know it, our friends, to the number of a dozen pairs or 
more, have taken up their residence in a cat-tail swamp—nowhere else, if you 
please, unless driven to it—and here in early May a dozen baskets of matchless 
weave are swung or lodged midway of the growing plants. Your distant 
approach is commented upon from the tops of bordering willows by keyrings 
and other notes. At close range the lordly male, he of the brilliant epaulets and 
proper military swagger, shakes out his fine clothes and says Kongquerce, 
in a voice in which anxiety is quite outweighed by vanity and proffered good 
fellowship withal. But if you push roughly through the outlying sedges, 
anxiety obtains the mastery. The alarm is sounded. ‘There is a hubbub in the 
marsh. Bustling, frowsy females appear, and scold you roundly. ‘The lazy 
gallants are all fathers now, and they join direful threats to courteous expostu- 
lations, as they flutter wildly around the intruder’s head. ‘To the mischevious 
boy the chance frequently to call out these frantic attentions is irresistible, 
even when no harm 1s intended. 
The third picture is of a cloud of Blackbirds—plain Blackbirds now, male, 
female, or young, it matters not—bearing down relentlessly upon a field of 
ripening corn. ‘The terror of the black scourge belonged chiefly to a former 
day. Besides we will not dilate upon the weaknesses of our friends. 
I have said that the Redwing prefers cat-tails for nesting; but in the 
vicinity of the larger swamps, or wherever there is danger of high water, they 
take readily to bushes or even small trees. Second broods, too, are more apt to 
be reared in elevated situations. 
The local attachment of Redwings is quite marked, and indeed sometimes 
almost pathetic. I once visited the region of a famous swamp, the “Goose 
Pond,” in Pickaway County, only to find that the misdirected energies of the 
local Hans had drained off the water some two years before, leaving the 
“ancient bottom of unfathomable ooze” as dry as tinder. Of course the drain- 
age of the swamp had involved the total destruction of its charasteristic 
vegetation. Nevertheless a few pairs of Redwings lingered about the scene of 
their former happiness—their birthplace, no doubt, but now a dessicated waste 
—quite unable to grasp the meaning of the changed conditions. 
