AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 75 



A BIRD THAT SANG ON ITS NEST, 



By W. C. Knowles. 



HE Rose-breasted Grosbeak is one of our most interest- 

 ing birds to study during the nesting season. One day 

 when I was stepping softly under blossoming apple 

 trees, I heard a sharp warning call, "squick! squick! 

 | squick!" and a black and white bird flew across the 

 greensward. I had caught a glimpse of the first Gros- 

 beak and heard that characteristic call that tells us each 

 May that our rose-breasted singers have returned from the south. 



An untrained ear hearing the Grosbeak carolling at noonday from the 

 top of an oak frequently takes the singer for a sweet voiced oriole, but 

 the orioles do not care for oak trees. They sing as they feast among 

 the sprays of apple bloom and swing their cradles from the maple and 

 the elm. Give a Grosbeak the crown of some monarch oak and the 

 June sky above and "his musical horn of plenty" literally overflows. 



Creep up softly under the white oak tree and observe our singer. 

 The soft gray leaves droop around the pendant catkins and the birds 

 carmine throat, which has been likened to "a candle of flame" is scarce- 

 ly hidden by the gray foliage. Notice when our steps startle the song- 

 ster how he turns his shiny black head from side to side in listening 

 talkative attitude. 



A pair of Grosbeaks with whom the writer became well acquainted 

 built a careless cradle of sticks and twigs in the scraggy top of an 

 apple tree overshadowed by their favorite oak. By the middle of June 

 there were young birds in the nest. From the attic windows, I could 

 look down directly upon the family. 



The little birds were fed with the regularity of clock work from day 

 light until long after my supper time. Both parents shared in the work. 

 The female Grosbeak was extremely quiet both in leaving and returning 

 to the nest. The male always seemed aware of her silent approach. 

 During her turn brooding the young she scarcely stirred and I could 

 hardly distinguish her brown back from the branches. The shifting 

 patches of sun light on the leaves revealed no secrets except when an 

 oriole frightened her as he winged his way to a basket nest in a neigh- 

 boring maple or when she raised her head to catch a tantalizing insect 

 and tucked her birdlings back with her bill. 



The male behaved very differently from his shy brown mate. He 

 frequently sang as he started out on the quest for food and rarely re- 

 turned without gently carolling his approach from a neighboring tree- 

 top. If any strange object appeared he would light on the lower 

 branches of the nesting tree and utter an inexpressibly low sweet warble 



