oil the Hermit Thrush and Wilson's Thrush. 183


instead of for one, and under circumstances far less advantageous

to their welfare. I had another anxious experience and a

mauvais quart d'he 7 ire of a different kind when my American

birds were first brought on board at New York. The keeper was

seeing that they had water to drink, when a hen Blue Bird

slipped out of the cage-door and fled off round the huge kitchen

of the “Lusitania,” which happened, as it generally does happen,

to be overflowing with head cooks, under cooks, pastry cooks

and scullions. The Blue Bird flew over them, and I through

them, dimly conscious of being dangerously near to knocking

some of them over, and of the clattering of kitchen utensils

which stood in my path. Fortunately I managed to keep the

fugitive in sight by doubling as the Blue Bird doubled, and

finally ran her to ground in a large but dark aperture in the

wall which seemed a receptacle for lead pipes and various pieces

of matting. I had to clamber on to the dresser and could then

only grope blindly in dusty unseen corners. I had begun to

despair, when I thought I felt feathers ! Squeezed under a pipe,

which was by no means cold, was the Blue Bird ! She seems

happy enough now in an outdoor aviary, where she, along with

others, has passed the winter.


I feel relieved indeed that the two species of beautiful

little Thrushes, about which I have written, are apparently so con¬

tented in captivity. Had they fluttered against their cage bars

or moped, one would have hated to have brought them from

their native land across the desert of water. I hope they, like

other birds, live in the present with no memory of the past. No

memory of still shady forests and dells luxuriate in moss and

overshadowing ferns, where streams trickle and deer mice leap.

No memory of tales that were told of their forbears who tinkled

their bell-like and silvery notes as the Red Indians bivouacked

near by, or crept stealthily on moccassined feet through the

dense underwood. The Indians have all but gone, and the

forests over many a mountain and vale have been felled, but the

people of that great country are waking up to a sense of their

responsibilities, and with that let us hope to sympathy for their

birds, of which they may justly be proud.



