Birds of Indiana. 1095 



surprising. If he discovers the approach of a human being, even at 

 a considerable distance, he prepares to resent the intrusion; and. 

 giving three short, loud whistles, very low in tone, as a warning, he 

 advances toward him, all the while careful that he should be heard 

 and not seen. Then follows a medley of sputtering, cackling, whisper- 

 ing and scolding notes, frequently interspersed with loud whistles, 

 and continued as the bird runs, hops or flies in the deepest thicket, 

 with a pertinacity which knows no fatigue. He tells you that your 

 gun won't shoot, that it is a flint-lock, that your ramrod is broken, 

 that you shot it at a buzzard, that you haven't got a gun; that you are 

 a bald-headed cripple; that there is a horrid suicide in the bushes, and 

 a big snake and a nasty skunk; that your baby is crying, your house is 

 afire and the bridge broken down; that you have missed the road to 

 the reform farm, and that the poor house is over the creek, and he calls 

 the dogs; says that you have gone to seed; go west and grow up with 

 the country; that you are taking up too much of his valuable time, 

 that you must excuse him for a moment. 



"During all this time he remains invisible, or, at most, his black eye 

 and mask, or golden breast, appear for a moment as he peers at you 

 from the tangled branches of the brambles, or flashes from branch to 

 branch, dancing an accompaniment to his fantastic notes. At the 

 last he suddenly appears on the top of a bush, not ten feet from you, 

 makes a profound bow with a derisive whisk of his long tail, exposes 

 his immaculate white crissum and dives again into the deepest 

 thickets. You take a long breath and wipe your face, and he returns 

 to the assault from the rear. Should you move on, he follows, and 

 if you approach, he retires, and, keeping at a respectful distance, he 

 laughs defiance, shouts mockery and tantalizing sarcasm. He is a fear- 

 ful scold, and it is no wonder the inside of his mouth is black. But 

 this is when he knows that he has the advantage. Sometimes he may 

 be surprised, as he sings in the upper branches of a tree. He then sits 

 motionless, continuing his song as if unaware of any intrusion upon 

 his privacy, and so resonant and varying are his notes that they con- 

 fuse the ear as to the spot from which they come, while his yellow 

 breast so completely harmonizes with the green leaves and sunlight 

 that he is with difficulty discovered. It is to his rapid and sonorous 

 notes, quick motions or perfect quiet, with harmonious surroundings, 

 that he owes the reputation for ventriloquism which he has obtained: 

 and it may be said of his reputation for mimicry that he has no need 

 to borrow notes from any other bird, and does not knowingly do so. 

 Before the breeding season is over it becomes as silent as during the 

 spring migration, and leaves for the south as stealthily as it came." 



