XI. 



AN UNNAMED BIRD. 



Six years ago, on my first visit to California, 

 I found a dainty cup of a nest out in the oaks, 

 but the name of its owner was a puzzle. On 

 returning East I consulted those who are wisest 

 in matters of such fine china, but they were 

 unable to clear up the matter. For five years 

 that mystery haunted me. At the end of that 

 time, when back in California, up in those same 

 oaks, I found another cup of the same pattern ; 

 but the cup got broken and that was the end of it. 



The fact of the matter is, you can identify per- 

 haps ninety per cent, of the birds you see, with 

 an opera-glass and patience ; but when it comes 

 to the other ten per cent., including small vireos 

 and flycatchers, and some others that might be 

 mentioned, you are involved in perplexities that 

 torment your mind and make you meditate mur- 

 der ; for it is impossible to 



Name all the birds without a gun. 



On bringing my riddle to the wise men, they 

 shook their heads and asked why I did not shoot 

 my bird and find out who he was. On saying 



