160 BIRDS AND BIRDS. 



curious, varied his performance and kept it up con- 

 tinuously for fifteen minutes. He seemed to enjoy 

 having a spectator, and never took his eye off him. 

 The observer approached within twenty feet of him. 

 " As I came near," he says, " the shrike began to 

 scold at me, a sharp, buzzing, squeaking sound not 

 easy to describe. After a little he came out on the 

 end of the limb nearest me, then he posed himself, and 

 opening his wings a little, began to trill and warble 

 under his breath, as it were, with an occasional 

 squeak, and vibrating his half-open wings in time with 

 his song." Some of his notes resembled those of the 

 bluebird and the whole performance is described as 

 pleasing and melodious. 



This account agrees with Thoreau's observation, 

 where he speaks of the shrike "with heedless and 

 unfrozen melody bringing back summer again." 

 Sings Thoreau : 



"His steady sails he never furls 



At any time o' year, 

 And perching now on winter's curls, 

 He whistles in his ear." 



But his voice is that of a savage strident and dis- 

 agreeable. 



I have often wondered how this bird was kept in 

 check ; in the struggle for existence it would appear 

 to have greatly the advantage of other birds. It 

 cannot, for instance, be beset with one tenth of the 

 dangers that threaten the robin, and yet apparently 

 there are a thousand robins to every shrike. It 



