A HERMIT'S WILD FRIENDS 



and I was not a mourner. He was tame enough 

 to take food from my hand, although he 

 would not hop on to the table, but his dis- 

 position made him distasteful to me. He 

 abused his wives and children, and was as 

 selfish as a hog. 



Last year the chewinks did not rear a fam- 

 ily, owing to the crows. The year before 

 they were successful in rearing three babies 

 from the first brood. The crows got the 

 second brood. The intelligence of the young 

 birds have caused me much surprise. I have 

 made it a practice, while writing out-doors, to 

 be well supplied with bird-food. Usually 

 there is a loaf of bread wired down in the 

 dooryard, but the birds will not eat from it 

 if I will throw to them bits of cooky, cup- 

 cake, or doughnut. The old birds hop out 

 of the bushes, twenty feet away, and make 

 a peculiar chuckling note, down in the throat, 

 to attract my attention. If I throw food, they 

 scramble for it. They will come to my feet 

 for the food. When the three babies, men- 

 tioned before, were full-grown, they were 



