2 Owen, A Captive Hermit Thrush. Y}^ 



seemed soon to realize that remonstrance was of no avail, and by 

 June 29 its impatience had given way to a philosophic serenity 

 and composure that rarely were disturbed during the remainder 

 of our acquaintance. 



It was astonishing to see how quickly and well the Thrush 

 adjusted itself to novel conditions. By the twenty-ninth of June, 

 that is, after three days of confinement, the bird was not only on 

 the best of terms with me, but we had learned to communicate. 

 I found that a very gentle kissing sound, made with the lips, at 

 once attracted its attention, causing it to ruffle its feathers, as 

 young birds do on the approach of the old ones, and giving rise to 

 an expectant attitude generally. Having secured its attention, I 

 had then only to open the cage door, when the bird would come 

 out, hop into my lap, and open wide its mouth. In a few clays 

 more, the Thrush had learned my step and my whistle. Its recog- 

 nition of these sounds was voiced in a succession of chirps, which, 

 usually, had an imperative tone, or a coaxing one, and indicated 

 an empty stomach. If my absence had been rather long and the 

 bird's meal unduly delayed, its piping voice took on a mandatory 

 key which bordered on imprecation. When well fed and com- 

 fortably at rest on its perch, the little fellow had a habit of trilling 

 softly, as if talking to itself. This trill had a remarkable property 

 of ventriloquism that led me, at first, to ascribe the notes to a 

 bird out of doors ; but I soon learned their author and came to 

 take pleasure in their assurance of genuine contentment. 



When captured, my Thrush was unable to feed itself, so I had 

 to make my bungling fingers do the work of a mother-bird's 

 dexterous bill. Knowing that it would be a good deal of a task 

 to furnish, altogether, food of the same nature as that provided 

 by the parent birds, I made the experiment of substituting, to some 

 extent, for grubs, earthworms, and insects, raw beef cut into bits 

 about one centimeter long by half a centimeter wide. Before 

 inserting the pieces of meat between the young bird's gaping 

 mandibles, I dipped them in water by way of lubrication, in order 

 that they, readily, might slip down the bird's throat. This was 

 the more necessary because the bird, often, would refuse to swal- 

 low unless the food had been placed far back in the mouth, at the 

 very entrance to the gullet. Moreover, it seemed well to supply 



