146 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 



century. When this bird comes, it is so unac- 

 quainted with man that its tameness is delightful to 

 behold. It thrives remarkably well in captivity, 

 and in a couple of weeks will become so tame that 

 it will hop down and feed out of its master's or mis- 

 tress's hand. It comes from far beyond the region 

 of the apple, yet it takes at once to this fruit, or 

 rather to the seeds, which it is quick to divine, at 

 its core. 



Close akin to these two birds, and standing in the 

 same relation to each other, are two other birds that 

 come to us from the opposite zone, — the torrid, — 

 namely, the blue grosbeak and his petit duplicate, 

 the indigo-bird. The latter is a common summer 

 resident with us, — a bird of the groves and bushy 

 fields, where his bright song may be heard all through 

 the long summer day. I hear it in the dry and 

 parched August when most birds are silent, some- 

 times delivered on the wing and sometimes from 

 the perch. Indeed, with me its song is as much 

 a midsummer sound as is the brassy crescendo 

 of the cicada. The memory of its note calls to 

 mind the flame-like quiver of the heated atmosphere 

 and the bright glare of the meridian sun. Its color 

 is much more intense than that of the common blue- 

 bird, as summer skies are deeper than those of April, 

 but its note is less mellow and tender. Its original, 

 the blue grosbeak, is an uncertain wanderer from the 

 south, as the pine grosbeak is from the north. I 

 have never seen it north of the District of Columbia. 

 It has a loud, vivacious song, of which it is not 



