The Blackbird's Bath. 147 



own beauty. He must somehow have read Shake- 

 speare, for he seems quite aware of his ' orange tawny 

 bill' and deep black hue. He might really know that 

 he figures in a famous ballad, and that four-and- 

 twenty of his species were considered a dish to set 

 before a king. 



It is a sight to see him take his bath. In a 

 meadow not far from the house here is a shallow 

 but clear streamlet, running down a deep broad 

 ditch overshadowed by tall hemlock and clogweed, 

 arched over with willow, whose leaves when the 

 wind blows and their under-side is exposed give the 

 hedge a gray tint, with maple and briar. Hide your- 

 self here on a summer morning among the dry grass 

 and bushes, and presently the blackbird comes to 

 stand a minute on a stone which checks the tiny 

 stream like a miniature rock, and then to splash the 

 clear water over head and back with immense energy. 

 He repeats this several times, and immediately after- 

 wards flies to an adjacent rail, where, unfettered by 

 boughs, he can preen his feathers, going through his 

 toilet with the air of a prince. Finally, he perks his 

 tail up, and challenges the world with the call already 

 mentioned, which seems now to mean, ' Come and 

 see Me ; am I not handsome ? ' 



On a warm June day, when the hedges are cov- 

 ered with roses and the air is sweet with the odor 

 of mown grass, it is pleasant to listen to the black- 

 birds in the oaks pouring forth their rich liquid notes. 

 There is no note so sweet and deep and melodious as 

 that of the blackbird^ to be heard in our fields ; it 

 is even richer than the nightingale's, though not so 

 varied. Just before noonday between eleven and 



