THE DEAD LEAVES FALL 193 



united. A weasel would not have devoured the 

 body so completely, and it has been evidently the 

 work of a vagrant cat. The bill and long tongue, 

 with a few clinging feathers, are left as if for pur- 

 poses of identification, and these, with the gathered 

 quills and lighter remnants, tell that the victim was 

 an oven bird. The cautious, retiring nature that 

 chose the low shrubbery and escaped the floberts and 

 catapults throughout the summer betrayed the little 

 fellow to his fate in the fall. In spring the woods 

 resounded to his ecstatic melody. Now there are 

 only a few scattered feathers to record the diminu- 

 tive tragedy of his end. In the records that strew 

 the woods, perpetually recurring and perpetually 

 covered up, we see the unfolding of nature's plan. 

 Next spring the loud repeated call of the Oven-bird 

 will resound through the renewed shrubbery, and in 

 autumn the prowling vagrant will stalk its silent 

 victim. 



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