2 OwEN, A Captive Hermit Thrush. pa 
seemed soon to realize that remonstrance was of no avail, and by 
June 29 its impatience had given way to a philosophic serenity 
and composure that rarely were disturbed during the remainder 
of our acquaintance. 
It was astonishing to see how quickly and well the Thrush 
adjusted itself to novel conditions. By the twenty-ninth of June, 
that is, after three days of confinement, the bird was not only on 
the best of terms with me, but we had learned to communicate. 
I found that a very gentle kissing sound, made with the lips, at 
once attracted its attention, causing it to ruffle its feathers, as 
young birds do on the approach of the old ones, and giving rise to 
an expectant attitude generally. Having secured its attention, I 
had then only to open the cage door, when the bird would come 
out, hop into my lap, and open wide its mouth. In a few days 
more, the Thrush had learned my step and my whistle. Its recog- 
nition of these sounds was voiced in a succession of chirps, which, 
usually, had an imperative tone, or a coaxing one, and indicated 
an empty stomach. If my absence had been rather long and the 
bird’s meal unduly delayed, its piping voice took on a mandatory 
key which bordered on imprecation. When well fed and com- 
fortably at rest on its perch, the little fellow had a habit of trilling 
softly, as if talking to itself. This trill had a remarkable property 
of ventriloquism that led me, at first, to ascribe the notes to a 
bird out of doors; but I soon learned their author and came to 
take pleasure in their assurance of genuine contentment. 
When captured, my Thrush was unable to feed itself, so I had 
to make my bungling fingers do the work of a mother-bird’s 
dexterous bill. Knowing that it would be a good deal of a task 
to furnish, altogether, food of the same nature as that provided 
by the parent birds, I made the experiment of substituting, to some 
extent, for grubs, earthworms, and insects, raw beef cut into bits 
about one centimeter long by half a centimeter wide. Before 
inserting the pieces of meat between the young bird’s gaping 
mandibles, I dipped them in water by way of lubrication, in order 
that they, readily, might slip down the bird’s throat. This was 
the more necessary because the bird, often, would refuse to swal- 
low unless the food had been placed far back in the mouth, at the 
very entrance to the gullet. Moreover, it seemed well to supply 
