1 62 HOW TO LIVE IN THE COUNTRY 



the red squirrel and the crow and the hawk can also 

 be made aljies, but when I find a crow on the edge 

 of a robin's nest, with one of the young birds in 

 his beak, I have no inclination to cultivate his ac- 

 quaintance. The red squirrel is even worse, and 

 when I hear an outcry among my bluebirds and tan- 

 agers I am almost certain that one of these wicked 

 whisking beauties is somewhere among my trees. Say 

 what you will for him, he lacks a conscience, lives 

 for himself alone, and preys on anything that he 

 can eat. He makes no friendships and recognizes 

 no alliances. 



This is true also of the English sparrow, so far 

 as I can observe. A robin has friends and so have 

 all the song birds. They will join forces when nec- 

 essary and carry on war together. You never saw 

 any other bird aid a crow, or help a hawk, or ex- 

 press any sympathy for an English sparrow, but you 

 may easily see a flock of half a dozen sorts of birds, 

 led by a king bird, in hot chase after a marauding 

 crow. 



Some birds, I agree, stand about midway and can 

 hardly be reckoned as strictly allies or strictly rivals. 

 In Florida I am specially interested in the shrike, a 

 handsomely built, natty fellow, always ready to as- 

 sert himself in a scrimmage with other birds. He 

 comes close to you, looks you in the eye from the 

 top of a persimmon bush, and suddenly jumps for 

 a grasshopper or a grub. Nothing escapes his keen 

 vision, and whatever he does not need for immediate 



