AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. ' 269 



Encouraged by this event, the robins continued the attack and chased 

 their enemy through the tops of several trees, until he finally dis- 

 appeared in one of his many hiding places. 



Nelson. 



GARDEN NOTES FROM LOUISIANA. 



It was my privilege last season, to enjoy an intimate relation to my 

 bird neighbors. They came fearlessly to pick up the food scattered 

 for them; and the bird table in the rose garden was a popular resort and 

 daily amusement for me. The robber Blue Jays took their repast with 

 an air of insolence and greed, and not contented with all they could eat, 

 they carried away food for future use, with a boisterous clatter that was 

 exasperating. The saucy House Wrens were so cunning, their quick 

 nervous movements and blithe notes — "cheery, cheery" — were always 

 my pleasure. 



The timid Bob-white had confidence to make its nest in a tangle of 

 vines at the back of the garden, on the ground closely by the fence, 

 and I hope nothing happened to its dozen eggs. They disappeared, 

 whether as chicks or- viciously, I could not tell. The aristocrat of the 

 garden was a Mocking Bird that had his nest in the wild trumpet vine. 

 He owned the place, and even disputed my right to walk in the garden. 

 He would watch me, flying from the housetop to the tree, uttering his 

 call of danger. When he was hungry, however, he did not hesitate to 

 order me to prepare -his food, and would then come boldly to the bird- 

 table while I stood motionless three yards distant. 



The Tufted Titmouse gave me a charming call in migration and spent 

 the holidays in the garden, and ate freely from the table. A pair of 

 Cardinals were the loveliest of all my feathered friends. They came for 

 food timidly, and they were afraid of the Mocking Bird especially. 



The female was sick and the tender solicitude of its mate was beauti- 

 ful. The male bird took a crumb from the table and carried it to his 

 mate, but the bird was too ill for food, and later I found her cold and 

 and lifeless on the ground. Tears of sadness filled my eyes, and re- 

 sentment also, for I detected evidence that a cruel sling shot was the 

 cause of the pathetic fate of the bird. My bright plumaged friend found 

 another mate and they selected the vine over my window for their 

 residence. When I discovered their intentions, I closed the window 

 and shade and watched as secretly as possible. April 24th there was 

 one gray, brown marked egg and every day one more until there were 

 three in the nest. During incubation, the female bird would seem to 

 get lonely and she would call — "Choe, choe, choe," until the male bird 



