18 ON BOSTON COMMON. 



building their nests in one corner of our do- 

 main ; and they attract at least their full share 

 of attention, as they strut about the lawns in 

 their glossy clerical suits. One of the garden- 

 ers tells me that they sometimes kill the spar- 

 rows. I hope they do. The crow blackbird's 

 attempts at song are ludicrous in the extreme, 

 as every note is cracked, and is accompanied by 

 a ridiculous caudal gesture. But he is ranked 

 among the oscines, and seems to know it ; and, 

 after all, it is only the common fault of singers 

 not to be able to detect their own want of tune- 

 fulness. 



I was once crossing the Common, in the mid- 

 dle of the day, when I was suddenly arrested 

 by the call of a cuckoo. At the same instant 

 two men passed me, and I heard one say to the 

 other, " Hear that cuckoo ! Do you know what 

 it means ? No? Well, /know what it means: 

 it means that it 's going to rain." It did rain, 

 although not for a number of days, I believe. 

 But probably the cuckoo has adopted the mod- 

 ern method of predicting the weather some time 

 in advance. Not very long afterwards I again 

 heard this same note on the Common ; but it 

 was several years before I was able to put the 

 cuckoo into my Boston list, as a bird actually 

 seen. Indeed it is not so very easy to see him 

 anywhere ; for he makes a practice of robbing 



