SONG-BIRDS- Catbird 



joining field, that it develops its best qualities, "lets itself 

 out," so to speak. The Catbirds in the garden are so tame 

 that they will frequently perch on the edge of the hammock 

 in which I am sitting, and when I move they only hop away 

 a few feet with a little flutter. The male is undoubtedly a 

 mimic, when he so desires, but he has an individual and 

 most delightful song, filled with unexpected turns and 

 buoyant melody. The length of the song varies greatly, 

 sometimes lasting almost uninterruptedly for an hour. One 

 strain is used as an introduction and as a constant refrain, 

 Prut! Prut! coquillicot! The ejaculation "prut! prut!" 

 turns into the shrill " zeay ! zeay ! " when he is really alarmed 

 or angry. 



His song is only second, in its colloquial variety, to that 

 of the Brown Thrasher, and it is sometimes for a moment 

 difficult to distinguish between the two. He is particularly 

 successful in imitating the whistle of the Chat (itself a 

 mimic and ventriloquist), and has several times lured me 

 by it, through bushes and briars, only to mock at me and 

 call, " Hey Victory," in my face. 



That the Catbird is a fruit thief, its best friend cannot 

 deny ; but during the breeding-season it feeds largely upon 

 insects, and particularly upon many highly injurious kinds 

 then in the moth stage ; seizing them adroitly in the air and 

 when near the ground, after the manner of Flycatchers. 



I kept a Catbird (that had fallen from the nest) in a 

 cage for many months, and became greatly attached to him. 

 He was perfectly fearless and would fly about the room 

 freely, and run about the floor with the rapidity of a mouse. 

 Frequently he would perch on my head, or flit up and dexter- 

 ously knock the ashes off 's cigar to attract his atten- 

 tion. He had a great dislike of newspapers, and if O 



tried to read, when he was at liberty, he would invariably 

 perch on the top of the sheet, thus bending it over and 

 stopping the proceedings, and then utter a triumphant 

 "Zeay, Z-e-a-y!" 



It seems strange that there should be any difference of 

 opinion about this merry, friendly bird. Mr. George H. 

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