AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 325 



my t ^y i ^^^^y p ^y i ^y p y i ^^ ^ i p y ryr^ i ff y i f ff i p y i ytr ff i p i p i p r p ytifii f ti f }^ 



WHEN NATURE FROWNED. 



He flew from the big cedar to the cornice of the house. That was 

 when I first saw him. He stood there a moment, curiously looking at 

 the smooth boards, but seeing no prospect for a breakfast, he took 

 wing again, this time going to a locust tree. I recognized him as a 

 Red-breasted Nuthatch, the first one I ever saw. As soon as I saw 

 him standing like a little statue on the cornice, I thought how pretty he 

 would look, mounted in the position, and disagreeable thought it was. 

 I could not banish the thought from my mind. I went out to get 

 better acquainted with him. As he busily searched the locust tree he 

 now and then uttered a queer little "quair-quair-quair-quair," in a nasal 

 voice. 



Finishing the locust, he flew around the corner to the big hackberry 

 tree. Ah! surely he would find a good breakfast here, where the rough, 

 bark afforded so many hidden places for the insect world. Alighting 

 he stood a moment in an expectant attitude, before he began scamper- 

 ing over the tree. Sometimes he would loose himself far up among 

 the branches. Than again, I would find him only a foot or two fronx 

 my head, gazing curiously at me. Whatever he thought of me I never 

 knew. He made no comment. After a little he unceremoniously re- 

 resumed his climbing. Sometimes he would dart out into the air after a 

 gnat. Once he ran out to the very tip of a long limb that drooped to 

 within three feet of the ground. He clung to the tip, and with head 

 downward looked long and silently at his image in a pan of water on 

 the ground below. Then as if remembering he was idle, he scampered 

 hastily back up the limb again. 



I thought if I were going to secure him I had better do so as soon 

 as possible, for I knew not when he might leave our trees to resume his 

 journey southward. 



I shot him as he ran along a limb within six feet of me. And I a 

 bird lover! Bird lover? Bosh! He fluttered lightly, noislessly to the 

 ground. Gently I took him up. In his eyes there was only suffering — 



