TWELVE WINTER BIRDS. 289 



ber one, demure as a scheming crow, with eyes half 

 shut and with not a trace of treachery or cunning in 

 his face. His blue and white plumage, tastefully 

 trimmed with black, made him conspicuous, but he 

 lessened the ill effects of this by the manner he assumed. 

 No bird, however timid, would step aside for such as 

 he. Indeed, they perched upon the same branch of 

 the tree he was on, almost upon the same twig, and 

 where was he ? 



" Like a flash the shrike had disappeared, and now, 

 fifty paces distant, he is perched upon another tree, 

 plucking feathers from a kinglet's head and regaling 

 himself with his victim's brains." 



Shrikes seldom sing. On a sunny December day, 

 I was, however, favored by the song of a butcher 

 bird. I was on the lookout for him for I had found 

 a sharp-nosed shrew-mouse hanging on a barbed wire 

 fence, and knew that a shrike had its winter quarters 

 in the immediate vicinity. Suddenly a bull-headed 

 bird, with chops muffled in black, sprang from a fallen 

 thorn tree to a wild cherry in a near-by corner of the 

 rail fence, and I knew that the butcher was in my 

 presence. Eyeing me furtively for some time he 

 jumped from branch to branch towards the top until 

 finally he reached the uppermost twig when suddenly 

 he uttered four sharp notes. They were much like 

 the warning cry of a cock when he discovers a hawk 

 or large bird in the air "err err err err." Then, 

 after an interval of a few seconds, he began a song 

 which was continued for at least five minutes. It was 

 uttered in a joyful manner but at the most was a 

 monotonous ditty, a " puit-tuit-toot-e-ree, putt," etc. 

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