could reseize it. The victim had strength 

 enough to flutter into a small hole in a 

 snow bank, .where it was hidden from 

 sight. The shrike made no attempt to 

 recapture the sparrow. It seemingly was 

 a pure case of "out of sight, out of 

 mind." In a few moments it flew away 

 in search of another victim. The spar- 

 row was picked up from the snow bank 

 and put out of its misery, for it was still 

 living. There was a hole in its skull as 

 round as though it had been punched 

 with a conductor's ticket clip. 



It has been my experience that the 

 Great Northern Shrike hunts most suc- 

 cessfully when he, so to speak, flies down 

 his prey. If he gets a small bird well 

 started out into the open and with cover 

 at a long distance ahead, the shrike gen- 

 erally manages to overtake and over- 

 power his victim. If the quarry, how- 

 ever, is sought in the underbrush or in 

 the close twined branches of the treetop, 

 it generally succeeds in eluding the 

 butcher. One of the most interesting in- 

 cidents of all my bird observations was 

 that of the attempted capture by a Great 

 Northern Shrike of a small brown creep- 

 er. The scene of the action was near 

 the south end of the Lincoln Park lagoon 

 in Chicago. The creeper was nimbly 

 climbing a tree bole, industriously pick- 

 ing out insects, as is his custom, when a 

 shrike dropped down after him from its 

 high perch on a tree which stood close 

 and overshadowed the one from whose 

 bark the creeper was gleaning its break- 

 fast. The shrike was seen coming. The 

 creeper, for the fraction of a second, flat- 

 tened itself and clung convulsively to 

 the tree trunk. Then, recovering, it 

 darted to the other side of the bole, while 

 the shrike brought up abruptly and clum- 

 sily just at the spot where the creeper 

 had been. The discomfited bird went 

 back to its perch. The creeper rounded 

 the tree once more and down went the 

 shrike. The tactics of a moment before 

 were repeated, the shrike going back to 

 its perch chagrined and empty clawed. 

 Five times it made the attempt to cap- 

 ture the creeper, and every time the lit- 

 tle bird eluded its enemy by a quick re- 

 treat. It was a veritable game of hide 

 and seek, amusing and interesting for the 

 spectator, but to the birds a game of life 

 and death. Life won. I ever have be- 



lieved thoroughly that the creeper 

 thought out the problem of escape for 

 itself. The last time the shrike went 

 back to its perch the creeper did not show 

 round the trunk again, but instead flew 

 away, keeping the bole of the tree be- 

 tween itself and its foe. It reached a 

 place of safety unseen. The shrike 

 watched for the quarry to reappear. In 

 a few moments it grew impatient and 

 flew down and completely circled the 

 tree. Then, seemingly knowing that it 

 had been fooled, it left the place in dis- 

 gust. 



Of the boldness of the Great Northern 

 Shrike there can be no question. It al- 

 lows man to approach within a few feet 

 and looks him in the eye with a certain 

 haughty defiance, showing no trace of 

 nervousness, save the flirting of his tail, 

 which is a characteristic of the bird and 

 in no way attributable to fear or uneasi- 

 ness. One morning early in March, when 

 the migration had just started, I saw two 

 shrikes on the grass in the very center 

 of the ball ground at the south end of 

 Lincoln Park. They were engaged in a 

 pitched battle, and went for each other 

 much after the manner of game cocks. 

 The feathers literally flew. I looked at 

 them through a powerful field glass and 

 saw a small dark object on the grass at 

 the very point of their fighting. Then I 

 knew that the battle was being waged for 

 the possession of an unfortunate bird 

 victim. The birds kept up the fight for 

 fully two minutes. Then, being anxious 

 to find out just what the dead bird was 

 which had given rise to the row, I walked 

 rapidly toward the combatants. They 

 paid no heed to me until I was within 

 twenty feet of the scene of their encoun- 

 ter. Then they flew away. I kept my 

 eyes on the much ruffled body of the lit- 

 tle victim lying on the grass and, walk- 

 ing toward it, I stooped over to pick it 

 up. At that instant, as quick as the pass- 

 ing of light, one of the shrikes darted 

 under my hand, seized the quarry and 

 made off with it. It was an exhibition 

 of boldness that did not fail to win admi- 

 ration. I did not have the chance to 

 learn what bird it was that had fallen a 

 victim to the shrikes' rapacity and had 

 been the cause of that battle royal. 



The Great Northern Shrike when it 

 is attempting to capture a mouse, or a 



18 



