GLIMrSK.S <JF WILD LIFE 18.5 



was tame, and M-oukl at times frisk playfully 

 about my hand and strike it gently with its fore- 

 feet; but the moment it was liberated in a room 

 or let down in the grass with a string about its 

 neck, all its wild nature came forth. In the 

 roora it would run and hide; in the oi.on it 

 would make desperate eflorts to escape, and leap 

 and bound as you drew in the string that held 

 it. At night, too, it never failed to try t.-. 

 make its escape from the cage, and finally, 

 when two thirds grown, succeeded, and we saw 

 it no more. 



Ill 



How completely the life of a bird revolves 

 about its nest, its home! In the case of the 

 wood-thrush, its life and joy seem to mount 

 higher and higher as the nest prospers. The 

 male becomes a fountain of melody ; his hai)in- 

 ness waxes day by day; he makes little trium- 

 phal tours about the neighborhood, and pours 

 out his pride and gladness in the ears of all. 

 How sweet, how well-bred, is his demonstra- 

 tion! But let any accident befall that precious 

 nest, and what a sudden silence falls upon him! 

 Last summer a pair of wood-thrushes built 

 their nest within a few rods of my house, and 

 when the enterprise was fairly launched and the 

 mother bird was sitting uj^on her four blue i^n^^, 

 the male was in the height of his song. How 

 he poured forth his rich melody, never in the 

 immediate vicinity of the nest, but alway? 



f 



