86 Bird Comrades 



heard a moment, then gone. You know something 

 sweet has passed by, but something so brief and elusive 

 that you scarcely know what it was. Long after it has 

 dropped on your ear, it continues to haunt your memory, 

 and you try again and again to reproduce it, but in vain. 

 It has a kind of gurgling quality, as if the bird were press- 

 ing his notes through an aqueous lyre, if such a concep- 

 tion is possible. Besides, I have, on more than one occa- 

 sion, heard a jay warble a soft, reserved little lay that 

 was continued for many minutes. It sounded very like 

 the song of the brown thrasher, much modulated and 

 partly uttered under its breath a sort of flowing, ryth- 

 mical melody. 



A question that disturbs all bird lovers more or less 

 is this: Does the fine white vest of the jay cover a bad 

 heart? Is he really a thief, a nest robber, or even worse, 

 a cannibal, in plumes? May the guardian spirit of all 

 feathered folk forbid that I should blacken the reputa- 

 tion of any bird, yet honesty compels me to give an 

 affirmative answer to the foregoing question. I hasten, 

 however, to say that I do not believe he is as black as he' 

 has been painted by some observers, who seem to delight 

 in making out a verdict of capital guilt against him. 

 Although a predatory bird, he is not engaged all the time 

 in bloodthirsty pursuits, but only while his young are in 

 the nest clamoring for food. What are some of the 

 proofs of his vandalism? I will mention a few of them. 



First, almost all the small birds make uncompro- 

 mising war upon him, especially in the breeding season, 



