200 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



that the grosbeaks began to sing much ; and then, for an 

 hour before sunset was their favorite time. Their labors 

 of nest-building were by this time completed, and they 

 were, I thought, rejoicing at the idea of vacation, for un- 

 til the eggs were hatched there would be little to do. 

 And such bird-music I had seldom heard before never 

 since. The notes had all the clearness of the oriole's, and 

 yet were without its harshness ; they were as varied as 

 those of the wood-thrush, yet not so monotonous. The 

 charm consisted in our not being able to anticipate the 

 song, as it was never, I think, quite the same, though cer- 

 tain well-marked features were heard in every utterance, 

 and this at once caused the bird and its song to be recog- 

 nized. For weeks I tried to express the song in music, 

 but the evening's result was a sad jumble of harsh notes, 

 and before the summer ended I gave up in despair. At 

 times, the wood-thrush, chat, oriole, and the vireos would 

 join the grosbeak, and then indeed it was a service of song. 

 During the subsequent summer days, I found these 

 birds usually in an apple-orchard, busy as wood-peckers, 

 hunting for insects, even in the hottest sunshine. They 

 thereby proved themselves to be as useful as they were 

 beautiful. I found them, too, gathering potato-bugs, and 

 they seemed to suffer no harm, although the vines, previ- 

 ous to their visit, had been dusted with Paris-green. 

 From this I judged, as no grosbeaks were killed, that 

 they ate only the living insects, which of course were 

 free of the poison. This fancy for the potato-pest ought 

 to secure entire safety to the grosbeak, so far as man 

 is concerned ; but, strangely enough, it does not, as I 

 found a fiend collecting them, one morning, "for the 

 milliners." Unfortunately, a defect in our laws pre- 

 vented my killing the collector without getting myself 

 into trouble, but the birds were not again disturbed. 



