AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 369 



Twice I have saved Orioles that seemed to be 

 trying- to commit suicide by hanging. An old 

 bird in search of nest material found a strong 

 thread on a bush in the garden. It was tangled 

 about the twigs and, in trying to loosen it, Mr. 

 Oriole became entangled also. The thread was 

 twisted about one foot and also about his neck, 

 and he was fluttering and pulling with all his 

 strength to get loose, while his excited mate hov- 

 ered near. The other was a young bird. I no- 

 ticed it fluttering strangely by a deserted nest in 

 an old pear tree. A second glance showed us that it was a prisoner. 

 It had for some reason returned to its old home and became entangled 

 in the horse hairs that hung from the nest. One of the hairs was twist- 

 ed about its neck and in its struggles to get free it had only twisted it 

 tighter and was then gasping for breath. As the nest was beyond my 

 reach, I hastened to the house and returned with a broken hoe with 

 which I managed to reach the branch on which the nest was built. The 

 branch was partly decayed and broke easily and nest, bird and all came 

 tumbling to my feet. I quickly released the little prisoner and carried 

 it to the house to show to the rest of the family, but in trying to hold 

 it so that the wondering eyes of my baby nephew might get a peep at 

 it, it slipped from my hands and was gone like a flash leaving me with 

 a feeling of thankfulness that I been permitted to save its life that it 

 might help to brighten the earth with its beauty and song of gladness- 



Emma M. Doak, Hookstown, Pa. 



A BIRD INCIDENT. 



One evening my attention was attracted by a persistent tapping at 

 the window, the curtain of which was drawn up so as to allow the light 

 to shine out upon the vine-covered piazza. Going outside, I found a 

 a little gray bird fluttering against the pane. It allowed itself to be 

 taken in the hand, and then the cause of its unusual behavior was mani- 

 fest. The tiny claws were quite bound up and entangled with spider 

 web, so that perching was impossible. We gently unwound the mass 

 and freed the slender feet, and then set the bird at liberty. It flew 

 away, and did not return again to the window. 



It was a little plain Crested Titmouse, at that time no uncommon 

 bird in shady Oakland, from which the axe and the English Sparrows 

 have since driven it. While we were freeing its feet, the long crest 

 kept rising and falling with excitement, but not, I hope with fear. A 

 pair had their nest in an old stove pipe hole in the house, though they 

 usually nest in hollows of oaks, and never being molested had become 

 quite familiar. Anna head. 



