A Mocking Bird s June 



By ALBERT V. GOODPASTURE. Nashville, Tenn. 



1WENT down to Dudley June 4. When I arrived the pair of Mockingbirds 

 who had preempted our lawn were looking out for a nesting place — no 

 doubt the second of the season, as I was assured the pair in the neighboring 

 hedge had already taken off one brood. In the nesting season each pair of Mock- 

 ingbirds have their own particular demesne; and, while they do not resent the 

 presence of other birds, any trespass by members of their own species is stoutly 

 resisted. I witnessed more than one battle between our Mockers and a pair 

 who hailed from the direction of the orchard, before their title to the lawn was 

 acknowledged. 



Being finally in peaceable possession, on June 6 they commenced building 

 their nest in a solitary cedar, six or seven feet tall, that had grown up against 

 the fence in the meadow; on the near side of the fence was the road that skirts 

 the margin of the woodlawn. The nest was placed just at the height of the top 

 plank — four feet seven inches from the ground. As a rule the Mockingbird 

 builds her nest in a solitary bush or small tree, preferably by the roadside, or 

 near the house, only a few feet from the ground; rarely more than ten or twelve, 

 and frequently not above four or five. Last summer a pair built and successfully 

 hatched and reared their young in some peach tree sprouts, only four feet from 

 the ground, and so close to the road that every carriage that passed brushed 

 against the branches that supported the nest. 



Both birds labored diligently in constructing the nest. The materials for 

 their work were close at hand; they found most of them in the road by the fence. 

 There was nice dry grass and straw in the meadow, but they preferred the with- 

 ered weeds and exposed roots along the roadside, some of which they detached 

 with considerable difficulty. In gathering their materials they ran along the 

 ground a short distance, halted, daintily elevated their wings, and leisurely 

 closed them; then off again until they had found what they wanted. Lighting 

 on the fence with their burdens, they entered the cedar from the left, and emerged 

 from the right, resting again on the fence before starting for fresh materials. 

 Sometimes as one entered the other came out, giving the appearance of the same 

 bird passing entirely through the bush; indeed, when I first observed them, 

 I could not tell for a time whether only one or both birds were engaged. In this 

 way they prosecuted their labor for two days, beginning before six o'clock, 

 the earliest hour at which I visited them, and continuing until sundown. 



In the meantime they had many visits from other birds. If one of them 

 approached the nest too closely they courteously gave him to understand he was 

 intruding; they were never violent or noisy, but always appeared firm, digni- 

 fied, and confident. They took no notice of a Meadowlark singing on the fence 

 several panels away; nor of a Brown Thrasher, which, next to the Mockingbird, 

 is the most brilliant songster we have at Dudley; though we never hear him 



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