THE CATBIRD. 255 



THOSE who hold either a good or a bad opinion of the Catbird are one- 

 sided in their judgment. Two, and not less than two, opinions are possible 

 of one and the same bird. He is both imp and angel, a "feathered Mephis- 

 topheles" and "a heavenly singer." But this is far from saying that the bird 

 lives a double life in the sense ordinarily understood, for in the same minute 

 he is grave, gay, pensive and clownish. Nature made him both a wag and a 

 poet, and it is no winder if the the roguishness and high philosophy become 

 inextricably entangled. One moment he steps forth before you as sleek as Beau 

 Brummel, graceful, polished, equal-eyed; then he cocks his head to one 

 side and squints at you like a thief; next he hangs his head, droops wings 

 and tail, and looks like a dog being lectured for killing sheep ; Presto, change ! 

 the bird pulls himself up to an extravagant height and with exaggerated gruff- 

 ness, croaks out, "Who are you?" Then without waiting for an answer to 

 his impudent question, the rascal sneaks off through the bushes, hugging every 

 feather close to the body, delivering a running fire of cat-calls, squawks and ex- 

 pressions of contempt. There is no accounting for him ; he is an irrepressible 

 and a genius. 



The Catbird is at home anywhere in bushes and shrubbery. River banks 

 are lined with them, and swampy tangles are thronged with them, but they also 

 exhibit a decided preference for the vicinage of man and, if allowed to, will 

 frequent the plum trees and raspberry bushes. They help themselves pretty 

 freely to the fruit of the latter, but their services in insect-eating compensate 

 for their keep a hundred-fold. Nests are placed almost anywhere at moderate 

 heights, but thickety places are preferred, and the Carolina rosebush is 

 acknowledged to be the ideal spot. The birds exhibit the greatest distress 

 when their nest is disturbed, and the entire neighborhood is aroused to expres- 

 sions of sympathy by their pitiful cries. 



Comparing the scolding and call notes of a Catbird with the mewing of a 

 cat has perhaps been a little overdone, but the likeness is strong enough to 

 lodge in the mind and to fasten the bird's "trivial name" upon it forever. Be- 

 sides a mellow phut, phut in the bush, the bird has an aggravating mec-a-a, 

 and a petulant call note which is nothing less than Ma-a-ry. Cautious to a 

 degree and timid, the bird is oftener heard in the depths of the thicket than 

 elsewhere, but he sometimes mounts the tree-top, and the opening "Phut, phut, 

 coquillicot" as Mrs. Blanchan hears it is the promise of a treat. 



Generalizations are apt to be inadequate when applied to singers of such 

 brilliant and varied gifts as the Catbird's. It would be impertinent to say: 

 Homo sapiens has a cultivated voice and produces music of the highest order. 

 Some of us do and some of us do not. Similarly some Catbirds are "self- 

 conscious and affected." "pause after each phrase to mark its effect upon the 

 audience," etc. Some lack originality, feeling, are incapable of sustained 

 effort, cannot imitate other birds, etc. But some Catbirds are among the most 



