LEAF AND TENDRIL 



loosened and but little ruffling; long holding of one 

 down by the other, but no cry of pain or fury. It 

 was the kind of battle that one likes to witness. 

 The birds usually locked beaks, and held their grip 

 half a minute at a time. One of the females would 

 always alight by the struggling males and lift her 

 wings and utter her soft notes, but what she said — 

 whether she was encouraging one of the blue coats 

 or berating the other, or imploring them both to 

 desist, or egging them on — I could not tell. So far 

 as I could understand her speech, it was the same 

 as she had been uttering to her mate all the time. 



The language of birds is so limited that one 

 cannot always teU their love-calls from their bat- 

 tle-cries. I recognize three notes in the bluebird — 

 a simple, plaintive call uttered in the air by the mi- 

 grating birds, both fall and spring, which is like 

 the word "pure," "pure;" then the animated war- 

 bling calls and twitterings, during the mating sea- 

 son, which are uttered in a fond, reassuring tone, 

 usually accompanied by that pretty wing gesture; 

 then the call of alarm when some enemy approaches 

 the nest or a hawk appears. 



This last note is soft like the others, but the tone 

 is different; it is sorrowful and apprehensive. Most 

 of our song birds have these three notes expressive 

 of love, alarm, and fellowship. The last-named call 

 seems to keep them in touch with one another. I 

 might perhaps add to this list the scream of distress 

 40 



