THE RECLUSE. 



day after day, I might see the species numerous 

 enough at a particular part of the forest, and by 

 no means shy of being seen, playing in the air, 

 and alighting continually on the leaves of the 

 trees, and continuing there, opening and closing 

 their beauteous wings in the sun, and rubbing 

 them together with the most fearless unconcern, 

 though I walked to and fro with upturned face 

 below,— jet invariably taking care to keep them- 

 selves just out of the reach of my net! 



This power of judging of actual danger, and the 

 free-and-easy boldness which results from it, are 

 by no means uncommon. Many birds seem to 

 have a most correct notion of a gun's range, and, 

 while scrupulously careful to keep beyond it, con- 

 fine their care to this caution, though the most 

 obvious resource would be to fly quite away out 

 of sight and hearing, which they do not choose to 

 do. And they sometimes appear to make even an 

 ostentatious use of their power, fairly putting 

 their wit and cleverness in antagonism to that of 

 man, for the benefit of their fellows. I lately read 

 an account, by a naturalist in Brazil, of an expe- 

 dition he made to one of the islands of the Ama- 

 zon to shoot spoonbills, ibises, and other of the 

 magnificent grallatorial birds, which were most 

 abundant there. His design was completely baf- 

 fled, however, by a wretched little sandpiper, that 

 preceded him, continually uttering its tell-tale cry, 

 which at once aroused all the birds within hear- 

 ing. Throughout the day did this individual bird 

 continue its self-imposed duty of sentinel toothers, 

 effectually preventing the approach of the fowler 

 to the game, and yet managing to keep out of the 

 reach of his gun. 



There is, however, in some animals, a tendency 

 to seek safety in an entire avoidance of the pres- 

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