244 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



green. I picked them up and wondered what little tragedy had been 

 enacted there and what bird had thus been the victim. As I sat gaz- 

 ing at the Chat, my thoughts returned to that bunch of feathers and I 

 knew what bird had once worn them, and thought what a wretched 

 ending for such a gay, light-hearted, happy-go-lucky little fellow. I 

 frequently saw him and heard him every day throughout the summer, 

 but our friendship did not grow as I should have liked. I fear it was 

 all one-sided. I loved the little bird but he would brook no advances 

 on my part. His aversion to me was quite evident. And thus sum- 

 mer waned, glorious autumn in all her gorgeousness came and passed, 

 and with her went the Chat. Yes, he was gone, there was no doubt of 

 that. As I strolled along the stream I found the modest little Juncos, 

 Tree Fox and Song Sparrows in abundance, but nevertheless there was 

 a vacancy they could not fill. I missed my noisy little Chat. He was 

 no longer there to follow and scoff and laugh and mock at me from the 

 safety of his impenetrable thickets. They were now brown and leafless, 

 a mouse could not find concealment in them. Then spring, the season 

 that is ever looked forward to with eager expectancy, sweet anticipa- 

 tions, by every bird lover rolled around once more. And with spring 

 came the birds. And, as in past years, so now, I watched for and 

 greeted each little feathered friend, now all the brighter for their long 

 sojourn in the sunny South, with a thrill of joy indescribable. 



My little Polyglot did not arrive till May 8th. On that morning, 

 bright and early, I heard him, the same little noisy fellow chattering 

 down by the stream. He was still shy but not so much so as the 

 summer previous. He sat on a limb above his thicket and regarded 

 me in silence. Then his throat began to swell till it was nearly as 

 large as his body. I knew something was going to happen. It did. 

 But I don't remember whether it was a squawk, a whistle, or some- 

 thing else. Unfortunately I forgot to record it. He seemed to want 

 to amuse me. He bowed and nodded and assumed many comical po- 

 sitions sometimes nearly turning up side down as he clung to the limb. 

 But when the summer of 1903 passed, I was little better acquainted 

 with him than when he first arrived. I found however, that they were 

 not so rare as I had at first supposed, but were common if not abun- 

 dant throughout this locality especially along streams bordered by 

 thickets. And so when he returned in the spring of 1904 I determined 

 another summer should not pass before I had learned something of 

 their home life. First I read up what my bird books had to say of 

 him. About all I could learn from them was that he was an accom- 

 plished ventriloquist, information not very encouraging to one just 

 getting acquainted with him, who wished to find his nest. Hence I 

 had to depend solely on my eyes and ears. 



