62 WHEN NESTING IS OVER. 



Not unfrequently he came into collision with a 

 sparrow mob that claimed to own that piece of 

 wood, and his way of dealing with them was an 

 ever fresh satisfaction. He stood quiet, though 

 the crouching attitude and the significant 

 twitches of his expressive tail indicated very 

 clearly to one who knew him that he was far 

 from calm inside ; that he was merely biding his 

 time. His tranquil manner misled the vulgar 

 foe ; that they mistook it for cowardice was ob- 

 vious. Nearer, and still nearer, they drew, sur- 

 rounded him, and seemed about to fall upon him 

 in a body, when he suddenly wheeled, and like 

 a flash of light dashed right and left almost 

 simultaneously, as if he had become two birds, 

 and the impertinent enemy fairly vanished be- 

 fore him. 



Like many another bird, however, the thrasher, 

 although not afraid of sparrows, disliked a con- 

 tinual row. He had gradually ceased to come 

 into the neighborhood, and I feared I should 

 neither see nor (what was worse) hear him again. 

 But one morning he presented himself with two 

 youngsters, so brimful of joy that he quite for- 

 got his previous caution and reserve. They 

 perched in plain sight on the fence, and while 

 the little ones clumsily struggled to maintain 

 their footing, the father turned his head this 

 side and that, jerked his tail, and uttered a low 



