﻿12,2 



Bird - Lore 



manner of indescribable sounds. He laughs dryly, gurgles derisively, whistles 

 triumphantly, chatters provokingly, and chuckles complacently, all in one 

 breath. He throws himself about through the bush regardless of con- 

 sequences, never still, scrutinizing the intruder in all attitudes. Viewing 

 him now from under a branch, and then from over it, talking always 

 excitedly, rather incoherently and usually indelicately. In fact, one throat is 

 not sufficient to relieve the pressure of his feelings, and he presses into 

 service his long tail, and with it wig-wags things such as even he, irre- 

 sponsible little sprite that he is, dare not say out loud. 



Should I stop here, however, in my description, an entirely inadequate 

 and one-sided impression would be made of a very complex and many- 

 sided individual. It is only 

 the presence of man that 

 brings these evil characters 

 to the surface, and arouses 

 the worst in him. When 

 alone in his own solitudes 

 the better side of his nature 

 is exhibited, and he shows 

 himself in other colors, a 

 happy roisterer, a fervid 

 lover, a solicitous parent. 

 As a husband, however, I 

 should judge the Chat to 

 be somewhat of a brag- 

 gadocio, and should suspect 

 him of bulldozing his wife 

 if it were not for the reflec- 

 tion that she is a Chat also, and is, therefore, perfectly able to take 

 care of herself. As it is, they seem to be a happy pair, and get along 

 together fully as well as other couples that promise better as examples of 

 domestic felicity. His love-song is a woodland idyl and makes up for much 

 of his shortcomings. From some elevated perch from which he can survey 

 the surrounding waste for a considerable distance, he flings himself into the 

 air — straight up he goes on fluttering wings — legs dangling, head raised, his 

 whole being tense and spasmodic with ecstasy. As 'he rises he pours forth 

 a flood of musical gurgles, and whistles that drop from him in silvery cas- 

 cades to the ground, like sounds of fairy chimes. As he reaches the apex of 

 his flight his wings redouble their beatings, working straight up and down, 

 while the legs hanging limply down remind the observer of those drawings 

 we sometimes see from the brushes of Japanese artists. He holds his hover- 

 ing position for an instant, then the music gradually dies away; and, as he 

 sinks toward the ground, he regains his natural poise, and c eeks another 



THE SONG FLIGHT 

 Drawn by P. A. Taverner 



