162 IN BIRD LAND. 
bing heart by storm, ran thus: “I love you very 
dearly. You are so nice that I don’t blame any- 
body for falling in love with you. I don’t see why 
everybody doesn’t fall in love with you.” If one 
may judge from the impetuosity with which most 
feathered lovers press their suits, there must be 
many instances of such captivation in bird land. 
Have you ever been witness of the wooing of that 
half-knightly, half-boorish bird, the yellow-hammer ? 
In the grove near my house several pairs of these 
birds had a great time one spring settling their 
hymeneal affairs. For hours a lover would pursue 
the object of his affections around and around, never 
giving her a moment’s respite. No sooner had she 
gone bounding to another tree than he would dash 
after, often flinging himself recklessly right upon the 
spot where she had alighted, compelling her to hitch 
away, to avoid being struck by her impetuous lover. 
His policy seemed to be to take her heart by storm, 
to wear her out, to give her no time to think matters 
over, to compel her, nxolens volens, to consent to his 
proposed marital alliance. No doubt she finally 
said yes, merely to get rid of him, and then failed 
of her purpose. After the courtship has passed its 
first stage, and the wooed one has grown less shy, 
the bowings and scrapings of the yellow-hammers 
are truly ludicrous. The female will flit away only 
a short distance, and will sometimes turn toward her 
mottled suitor, when they will wag their heads at 
each other, now to this side, now to that, in the 
most serio-comical manner imaginable. It is the 
