BIRD INTIMACIES 



The furtive and stealthy manners of the catljlrd 

 contrast strongly with the frank, open manners of 

 the thrushes. Its cousin the brown thrasher goes 

 skulking about in much the same way, flirting from 

 bush to bush like a culprit escaping from justice. 

 But he does love to sing from the April tree-tops 

 where all the world may see and hear, if said world 

 does not come too near. In the South and \Yest 

 the thrasher also nests in the vicinity of houses, 

 but in New York and New England we must look 

 for him in remote, bushy fields. I do not know of 

 any bad traits that go with the thrasher's air of 

 suspicion and secrecy, but I do know of one that 

 goes with the catbird's — I have seen her perch on 

 the rim of another bird's nest and deliberately 

 devour the eggs. But only once. AYhether or not 

 she frequently does this, I have no evidence. If 

 she does, she is doubtless so sly about it that she 

 escapes observation. 



I welcomed the catbird, though she is not so 

 attractive a neighbor as the wood thrush. She has 

 none of the wood thrush's dignity and grace. She 

 skulks and slinks away like a culprit, while tlie 

 wood thrush stands up before you or perches upon 

 a limb, and turns his spotted waistcoat toward you 

 in the most open and trusting manner. In fact, 

 few birds have such good manners as the wood 

 thrush, and few have so much the manner of a 

 Paul Pry and eavesdropper as the catbird. The 



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