4 BLACKBIRDS IN TROUBLE. 



lives that our attentions do not seem intrusive, 

 but more because their ways are not so familiar. 

 We can guess how men and women pass their 

 time, but we cannot guess why the cat-bird al- 

 ways sings from the middle of one particular 

 shrub, nor where he has hidden his dusky 

 spouse and nest full of babies; and after we 

 know him we are eager to discover. 



Upon reaching the charming home of a friend 

 in Massachusetts last June, almost the first 

 thing I saw was a pair of purple crow black- 

 birds in trouble. First arose a medley of queer 

 husky tones, clamorous baby cries, and excited 

 oriole voices, with violent agitation of the leaves 

 of a tall elm, ending with the sudden exit of a 

 blackbird, closely followed by a pair of Balti- 

 more orioles. The pursued flew leisurely across 

 the lawn, plainly in no haste, and not at all 

 with the air of the thief and nest robber he is 

 popularly supposed to be. Clearly the elm be- 

 longed by bird custom to the orioles, for their 

 pretty swinging hammock could be seen partly 

 hidden by leaves, about half-way up the tree, 

 and what business other than that of marauder 

 had the sombre-hued enemy upon it ? 



Now the blackbird has no secrets in his life ; 

 the whole world is welcome to know his affairs, 

 and in fact he proclaims them loudly himself. 

 It was easy to see that he had anxiety enough 



