3o6 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



BROWNIE 



The Story of a feathered Pet. 



BY I^EANDER S. KEYSER. 



T was natural to call him Brownie; first, because 

 he was of a tawny color; second, because the 

 name of his species is Brown Thrasher; not in any 

 wise because he was as trig and handsome as we 

 suppose the brownies of the story books to be. 

 A young thrasher is not an Apollo — far from it. 

 At first he felt distrustful, nestling shyly down in 

 his little berry box, which was lined with soft 

 grass, and blinking at his queer captors, who 

 looked so different from the papa and mamma 

 thrashers which had hitherto been his purveyors. 

 If I remember correctly, he would eat nothing 

 --- the first evening. He even refused food the next 



morning, although he must have been very hungry after his long fast. 

 To induce him to eat I had recourse to a little finesse, for you know, 

 all is fair in love, war and natural history. I drew a cover over him, 

 the woolen rag under which he had slept, then left him for a while. 

 Presently I quietly approached him, holding a pellet of food between 

 thumb and finger, and carefully pulled back the cloth so as to expose 

 his beak, but without uncovering his eyes. At the same time I made 

 a 'slight, scratching noise, somewhat in imitation of the sound made 

 by the approach of the parent birds. The ruse was successful. Open 

 fiew the capacious mouth, and down went the food into the cavernous 

 throat. Another morsel was ready for him in a moment, and was pre- 

 sented to him, with the cover drawn back from his gleaming eyes. He 

 hesitated for a fraction of a second, then gulped down the proffered 

 goodie. 



That was the beginning of our friendship — Brownie's and mine. 

 Do you want to reach a young bird's heart? Then travel via of his 

 maw. My little pensioner's alert brain discovered at once that I would 

 minister to his gastronomical needs, though of course he did not put it 

 in quite that way, and thenceforth there was no trouble in feeding him, 

 except to keep his voracious demands supplied. He wanted his meals 

 quite often, and wanted a good deal at a time, and yet he has no gour- 

 mand; for when he had enough, and he knew well zvhen he had enough, 

 it was no use to offer him more. The utter nonchalance he showed 

 when food was presented to him after his maw was filled, was really 

 comical. He couldn't say "No!" in words, but he could flick his bill 



