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Bird- Lore 



At the junction of the Harlem and Central 

 New England, a few rods south of Boston 

 Corners station, stand the old fashioned 

 signal gates, and on the crossbar of one of 

 these gates, with the big red disk for a 

 background, the Robin built her nest and 

 reared her family. This gate is swung 

 from one position to another perhaps 

 fifty times in twenty-four hours, and it 

 would be interesting to compute the 

 number of miles of free 'railroad trans- 

 portation' the Robin has enjoyed. At 

 night when the red light was placed in 

 position, the signalman's hands were 

 always within a few inches of the bird, 

 yet in the face of all these seeming dis- 

 couragements, she made this weird choice 

 for a home-site, and stuck to her task of 

 raising a family. The 'Railroad Robin' 

 has been not only the center of interest 

 among the railroad men on the Harlem, 

 but she has been seen by thousands of 

 passengers from the car windows. In the 

 accompanying picture, the bird may be 

 clearly seen on the edge of her nest, her 

 head protruding just past the hole in the 

 disk. — Ward W. Adair, New York City. 



The Tragedy of the Ovenbird 



One morning late last May, as I turned 

 to come in from the front veranda of our 

 house, I noticed a bird lying on the porch 

 table. I went over and picked it up expect- 

 ing it would prove to be an English 

 Sparrow. To my surprise I found I held 

 in my hand a male Ovenbird, It was in 

 full spring plumage, there were no signs 

 of hurt or disease, and the body was still 

 limp and warm. As I held it in my hand 

 stroking its beautiful olive-green back and, 

 wondering over the mystery of this shy 

 little wood-bird dead on the porch table 

 of a city home, I suddently turned my 

 eyes to the double window before which 



the table stood and noticed that the 

 tall trees in front of the house were 

 reflected in this window almost as clearly 

 as in a mirror. Had the little bird caught 

 sight of his own image in the glass and 

 taking it for another Ovenbird flown 

 toward it in his impetuous fashion, striking 

 the glass with force enough to kill it ? 

 Who can tell? — Mrs. Arthur F. 

 Gardner, Troy, N. Y. 



Nuthatch and Shrike 



Among the many birds which fed during 

 the winter of 191 7-18 close to the bay 

 window from which I watch them have 

 been a pair of Nuthatches. A little before 

 Christmas they suddenly disappeared for 

 two or three weeks, and then as suddenly 

 returned. Two or three days later a bird 

 flew against the window. Looking up I 

 saw an unfamiliar bird at the foot of a 

 pear tree about twenty feet away. It 

 circled the tree two or three times, giving 

 me a good opportunity to study it. Then 

 it flew straight up from the ground and 

 began pecking at something in the crotch 

 of the tree, throwing feathers thick and 

 fast on the ground. After a few seconds a 

 Nuthatch, evidently the object of the 

 torture, flew from the crotch, the other 

 bird pursuing it instantly. Since then only 

 one Nuthatch visits me and appears very 

 timid. 



It was the tragic story of the Butcher- 

 bird, but the peculiar thing to me is that 

 the Shrike which I observed so closely 

 answered much better the description of 

 the Migrant Shrike of Reed's book than 

 that of the Northern Shrike of the same 

 author. 



Is it possible that it could have been 

 the southern rather than the northern 

 species? — Mrs. R'. S. Hulbert, Winsted, 

 Conn. 



