150 SPRING AT THE CAPITAL. 



them, heard at a distance on a bright afternoon of 

 early spring, produce an effect not unpleasing. The 

 air is filled with crackling, splintering, spurting, semi- 

 musical sounds, — which are like pepper and salt to 

 the ear. 



All parks and public grounds about the city are full 

 of blackbirds. They are especially plentiful in the 

 trees about the White House, breeding there and wag- 

 ing war on all other birds. The occupants of one of 

 the offices in the west wing of the Treasury one day 

 had their attention attracted by some object striking 

 violently against one of the window-panes. Looking 

 up, they beheld a crow-blackbird pausing in mid- 

 air, a few feet from the window. On the broad stone 

 window-sill lay the quivering form of a purple finch. 

 The little tragedy was easily read. The blackbird 

 had pursued the finch with such murderous violence, 

 that the latter, in its desperate efforts to escape, had 

 sought refuge in the Treasury. The force of the con- 

 cussion against the heavy plate-glass of the window 

 had killed the poor thing instantly. The pursuer, no 

 doubt astonished at the sudden and novel termination 

 of the career of its victim, hovered a moment, as if to 

 be sure of what had happened, and made off. 



(It is not unusual for birds, when thus threatened 

 with destruction by their natural enemy, to become so 

 terrified as to seek safety in the presence of man. I 

 was once startled, while living in a country village, to 

 behold, on entering my room, at noon, one October 



