AN OWL'S HEAD HOLIDAY. 267 



The black-throated blue warblers were com- 

 mon, and like most of their tribe were waiting 

 upon offspring just out of the nest. I watched 

 one as he offered his charge a rather large in- 

 sect. The awkward fledgeling let it fall three 

 times ; and still the parent picked it up again, 

 only chirping mildly, as if to say, " Come, come, 

 my beauty, don't be quite so bungling." But 

 even in the midst of their family cares, they 

 still found leisure for music ; and as they and 

 the black-throated greens were often singing to- 

 gether, I had excellent opportunities to compare 

 the songs of the two species. The voices, while 

 both very peculiar, are at the same time so 

 nearly alike that it was impossible for me on 

 hearing the first note of either strain to tell 

 whose it was. With the voice the similarity 

 ends, however ; for the organ does not make 

 the singer, and while the blue seldom attempts 

 more than a harsh, monotonous kree, kree, kree, 

 the green possesses the true lyrical gift, so that 



in my door-yard on the morning of the 7th. I heard his loud chip, 

 and looking out of the window, saw him first on the ground and 

 then in an ash-tree near a crowd of house sparrows. The latter 

 were scolding at him with their usual cordiality, while he, on his 

 part, seemed under some kind of fascination, returning again and 

 again to walk as closely as he dared about the blustering crew. 

 His curiosity was laughable. Evidently he thought, considering 

 what an ado the sparrows were making, that something serious 

 must be going on, something worth any bird's while to turn aside 

 for a moment to look into. The innocent recluse ! if he had lived 

 where I do he would have grown used to such " windy congresses." 



