WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



writhing and horrid mass of worms — a meal few 

 other birds will undertake. Even that does not 

 satiate him, and he restlessly renews the search 

 for those creeping larvae of insects so desirable to 

 him and his family, and many of which are so hate- 

 ful to the farmer. He seems to revel in his work, 

 and hurries about it with a busy and gleeful air, 

 heedless of your espionage, his velvety coat gleam- 

 ing among the glossy leaves or contrasting sharply 

 with the aromatic blossoms. 



The gayety that marks all his actions charac- 

 terizes his song. He whistles a clear, full tone — 

 not the reiterated bugle-call of the Baltimore, but 

 a sprightly, impromptu air, hastening from note 

 to note aG though singing against time, and yet 

 under protest at the speed he is forced to assume, 

 causing an embarrassed feeling that he is not doing 

 his best. This remarkable song is thus quite in- 

 describable, and is not much heard after the early 

 part of June, when family cares begin to curb the 

 singer's exuberant spirits. 



Finding its pleasure and profit in familiarity 

 with men, this oriole makes its home almost ex- 

 clusively in orchards, and is found breeding from 

 the Rio Grande to Lake Erie, but rarely eastward 

 of the Hudson River. Its migratory journeys in 



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