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sparrow at last ventured to the top of a 

 tall weed or rush stem, and began to chirp. 

 Another and another appeared here and 

 there. But the shrike sat like a mounted 

 specimen until they began to feed again. 

 Suddenly, then, straight and swift as a 

 shot, he cut the air and struck. I heard 

 a cry of agony, a pinched and bitter 

 squeak, and saw the little butcher bearing 

 away a sparrow weakly struggling in his 

 claws. Many a time before this I had 

 seen the like, so far as the main incident 

 went; but the act of hovering in mid-air 

 over its quarry, as the sparrow-hawk does, 

 was novel and interesting. 



Another curious fact of which I made 

 a note was seeing a shrike take in its claws 

 a large brown butterfly while on the wing 

 high in air. It would not have been so 

 strange had the bird's beak been used 

 instead of its foot. I saw the little tra- 

 gedy from beginning to end. The butter- 

 fly was making one of those apparently 

 aimless flights, zigzagging with erratic, 

 jerky wing-strokes about fifteen feet above 

 ground. Just as it passed the top of a 

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