THE CEDAR WAXWING 



By EDWARD HOWE FORBUSH 



EDUCATIONAL LEAFLET NO. 48 



Among my earliest memories of bird life is one that stands out clearly to 

 this day. A Cedar Waxwing had built her nest on the low branch of an old 

 apple tree at the edge of the orchard, and when I, a little eight-year-old boy, 

 came and peered in, there she sat in fear and trembling, her crest flattened, 

 her exquisite plumage drawn close to her body, and her eyes wild with fear; 

 but she would not desert her charge, because the little ones beneath her tender 

 breast were just breaking the shell. There was something fascinating about 

 her lowered, flatt-ened, almost serpentine head, with its black frontlet and 

 the black bands enclosing her bright, startled eyes, as she snuggled down into 

 her warm, leaf-sheltered nest. Alert and ready for instant flight, she held her 

 place. It was my first glimpse of the home-life of a wild bird. 



Next year was a canker-worm year, and all through the orchard the little 

 geometrids began to cut holes in the young leaves. Then came the Waxwings 

 in flocks, and there they stayed, often whispering to one another and always 

 catching worms. Such gourmandizers as they were! They ate until they could 

 eat no more, only to sit about on the branches or play with one another awhile, 

 and then eat again. The canker-worms stripped a few of the old trees, but the 

 Waxwings cleared most of them and saved the leaves; so we did not lose our 

 apples. When the cherries were ripe, these birds always found them. They 

 stayed in the cherry trees with the same persistence that they showed in their 

 work with the canker-worms. They have a habit, when satiated, of sitting 

 together, sometimes five or six on the same limb, and at such a time I have 

 seen a cherry or a caterpillar passed from one to another until it had passed 

 up and down the line before any would take it. 



Who can describe the marvelous beauty and elegance of this bird? What 

 other is dressed in a robe of such delicate and silky texture? Those shades of 

 blending beauty, velvety black, brightening into fawn, melting browns, shift- 

 ing saffrons, quaker drabs, pale blue and slate with trimmings of white and 

 golden yellow, and the little red appendages upon the wing not found in any 

 other family of birds — all, combined with its graceful form, give the bird an 

 appearance of elegance and distinction peculiarly its own. Its mobile, erectile 

 crest expresses every emotion. When lying loose and low upon the head, it 

 signifies ease and comfort. Excitement or surprise erect it at once, and in fear 

 it is pressed flat. 



In 1908, some fruit-growers in Vermont introduced into the assembly a 

 bill framed to allow them to shoot Cedar Waxwings. This bill was pushed with 



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