l(j Bulletin 8 



autumn a frightened, rumpled baby-robin was placed in my hands, 

 together with a tiny vial of chloroform, there was no intimation of 

 the dominant factor he would become in my life through the impress 

 of his strong individuality. 



Fate, in the shape of a sudden, summer storm had tossed him 

 homeless and helpless, into the tender care of "Little Missy" and "Bud." 



The nestling partners of his desperate plight succumbed to the 

 strenuous experience; but he survived; and with a devoted household 

 to dance attendance from four o'clock (A. M.) till "sleepy time" he 

 grew and waxed strong and was duly christened "Robbie." 



With the freedom of house and grounds he came and went in 

 fearless familiarity. When his sponsors left Vermont for their south- 

 ern home Robbie was elected a fellow-traveler, but with misgivings 

 that justified the chloroform. At Rutland he had so nearly committed 

 suicide, in his terror, that he was surrendered to my care and dis- 

 cretion. A branch of a tree was brought into the house for a perch 

 and haven of refuge, and from this point of vantage he took a bird's- 

 eye view of his surroundings and soon dominated the situation. The 

 chloroform bottle retired further and further into the recesses of the 

 medicine closet, but Pitty Babe holds the center of the stage in our 

 family circle. His new name was given him when it became evident 

 that he was not to be classed with the common or garden variety of 

 robins; nor considered merely a piece of mechanism, a thing of utility, 

 an ordinary insect destroyer; but a bit of imprisoned life, intelligence 

 and individuality; and no interpretation of him can be purely technical 

 and coldly scientific. In bird-dom he emphatically is sui generis, de- 

 veloping unexpected traits and, with close human companionship, some 

 almost human attributes. The abrupt transition from country soli- 

 tudes to city sights and sounds; from the freedom of the open to im- 

 penetrable walls, from natural to artificial diet, was sorely trying. We 

 soothed his little timidities, respected his little reserves, sympathized 

 with his little trials. He soon recovered his wonted poise and cheeri- 

 ness and charmed us with soft trilling notes from a tremulous ruffled 

 throat. But presently he ceased this and seemed to have forgotten the 

 songs his mother used to sing. He makes more civilized, far less 

 musical sounds,— for he talks! He tilts his head and listens while we 

 murmur in his ear, "What a joy you are, Pitty Babe, you are almost 

 too good to be true." Then he braces himself. His eyes widen. He 

 makes strange sounds in his swelling throat. He answers! Only to 



