IN THE CATSKILLS 



The propagating instinct is strong, and surmounts 

 all ordinary difficulties. No doubt the widowhood 

 I had caused in the case of the woodpeckers was of 

 short duration, and chance brought, or the widow 

 drummed up, some forlorn male, who was not dis- 

 mayed by the prospect of having a large family of 

 half-grown birds on his hands at the outset. 



I have seen a fine cock robin paying assiduous 

 addresses to a female bird as late as the middle of 

 July; and I have no doubt that his intentions were 

 honorable. I watched the pair for half an hour. 

 The hen, I took it, was in the market for the second 

 time that season; but the cock, from his bright, 

 unfaded plumage, looked like a new arrival. The 

 hen resented every advance of the male. In vain 

 he strutted around her and displayed his fine fea- 

 thers; every now and then she would make at him 

 in a most spiteful manner. He followed her to the 

 ground, poured into her ear a fine, half-suppressed 

 warble, offered her a worm, flew back to the tree 

 again with a great spread of plumage, hopped 

 around her on the branches, chirruped, chattered, 

 flew gallantly at an intruder, and was back in an 

 instant at her side. No use, she cut him short at 

 every turn. 



The denouement I cannot relate, as the artful bird, 

 followed by her ardent suitor, soon flew away beyond 

 my sight. It may not be rash to conclude, how- 

 ever, that she held out no longer than was prudent. 

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