Berkeley in May. 



sounds his loud, wild, yet sweet, call to 

 cheer the more modestly attired mate, 

 who from her basket cradle high up in 

 the weeping willow broods over her 

 treasures and dreams of the happy 

 family that will soon be hers — alas, for 

 how brief a time ! 



The black-headed grosbeak is a far 

 less graceful bird than the exquisite 

 oriole. As the full-plumaged male flaps 

 through the air his conspicuous mark- 

 ings of white, black and yellow appear 

 to me somewhat overdone and flashy. 

 From his heavy beak down he seems 

 rather gross, although 1 do not find him 

 any the less interesting on this account. 

 His song, too, is not wild, spontaneous 

 and buoyant like the oriole's, although 

 loud and sweet, but seems rather per- 

 functory and monotonous in its range. 

 Even his nest will not stand comparison 

 with the delicate, deftly woven, pensile 

 basket of the oriole, for it is loosely 

 built of sticks — so loosely built, in 

 fact, that the eggs may frequently be 



173 



