III. 



A THORN-TREE NEST. 



JUNE was drawing to a close ; hermit thrushes 

 and veeries had turned their energies to seeking 

 food for hungry young mouths ; rose-breasted 

 grosbeaks and golden orioles, as well as their 

 more humbly clad fellow-creatures, were passing 

 their days near the ground, in the same absorb- 

 ing work ; tree-tops were deserted, and singing 

 was nearly over. 



It was well, then, that I should leave my be- 

 loved woods, and betake myself to a barren 

 country road, where, in a lonely thorn-tree, a 

 bird of another sort than these had set up late 

 housekeeping, a shrike. 



The reputation of this bird of solitary tastes 

 is not attractive. He is quarrelsome and un- 

 friendly with his kind, and aggressive and mali- 

 cious toward others, says the Oracle. His 

 pleasure is to torture and destroy ; no sweet or 

 tender sentiment may cling about his life ; in 

 fact, he is altogether unlovely. So declare the 

 books, and so, with additions and exaggerations, 

 says nearly every one who takes birds for his 



