52 MY STUDIO NEIGHBORS 



presumably smiling at the discomfiture of the out- 

 witted cow-bird parasite, who had thus exhausted 

 her powers of mischief for the season, and doubt- 

 less convinced herself of the folly of "putting all 

 her eggs in one basket." 



When we consider the life of the cow-bird, how 

 suggestive is this spectacle which we may see 

 every year in September in the chuckling flocks 



massing for their migration, occasionally fairly 

 blackening the trees as with a mildew, each one 

 the visible witness of a double or quadruple cold- 

 blooded murder, each the grim substitute for a 

 whole annihilated singing family of song-sparrow, 

 warbler, or thrush ! What a blessing, at least hu- 

 manly speaking, could the epicurean population 

 en route in the annual Southern passage of this 

 dark throng only learn what a surpassing substi- 



