NATURAL HISTORY. 229 



" 'Let's meete,' quoth Echo mockingly: 



Which, hearing, he with speed, 

 (Believed that his shadow was 

 A nymph, and spake indeed)." WARNER. 



687. Why is the great grey shrike called the sentinel ? 



It was thus named by Linneus, from its habit of sitting like a 

 sentry in an unconcealed manner near its nest, either watching 

 for its prey or on the alert against danger. 



688. The shrike, or butcher bird, as it is frequently called, is generally dreaded by 

 the lesser birds. They, however, occasionally unite against it, and drive it by 

 clamour and mobbing from a cheYished neighbourhood. But although a predatory 

 bird, it has good qualities ; it is fond of its young, in whose defence it has been 

 known to attack the hawk, and even the eagle. 



689. Why is the shrike called the "butcher-bird?" 



This bird has the singular habit of sticking the remains of 

 its prey, and sometimes the entire prey, upon the twigs of shrubs 

 in the hedges. His reason for doing so has given rise to various 

 conjectures, the most probable of which is, that it is for the 

 purpose of attracting other prey ; for when the trophies of 

 its previous capture are thus exhibited upon the hedge, the shrike 

 itself may often be observed beating about until some smaller 

 bird comes to peck at the bait ; and then the shrike drops down 

 and preys upon the bird thus ensnared. 



690. Why is the mocking-bird so called? 



Because it can imitate with the greatest ease and fidelity 

 not only the songs of other birds, but the sounds and cries of 

 animals and the barking of a dog, the mewing of a cat, &c. 

 It even carries its imitative powers to inanimate objects, such 

 as the grating of a grindstone, and the rushing of a torrent 

 of water. 



691. The mocking-bird loses little of the power ard energy of his song by con- 

 finement. In his domesticated state, when he commences his career of song, it is 

 impossible to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog ; Caesar starts up, 

 wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken, 

 and the hen hurries about with hanging wings and bristled feathers, clucking 

 protect its injured brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, 

 Breaking of a passing wheelbarrow, follow with great truth and rapidity. 



