48 American Birds 



bors ot a locality will flock at such a cry of alarm. The 

 robins are always the loudest and noisiest in their threats, 

 and are the first to respond to a bird emergency call. 



The weather was warm and it seemed to me the young 

 grosbeaks grew almost fast enough to rival a toadstool. 

 Sunshine makes a big difference. These little fellows got 

 plenty to eat, and were where the sun filtered through the 

 leaves and kept them warm. The young thrushes across 

 the gully were in a dark spot. They got as much food, 

 but they rarely got a glint of the sun. They didn't grow 

 as much in a week as the grosbeak babies did in three 

 days. 



I loved to sit and watch the brilliant father. He 

 perched at the very top of the fir and stretched his wings 

 till you could see their lemon lining. He preened his black 

 tail to show the hidden spots of white. Of course, he 

 knew his clothes were made for show. It was the song of 

 motion just to see him drop from the fir to the bushes 

 below. What roundelays he whistled: " Whit-te-o ! Whit- 

 te-o ! Reet! " Early in the morning he showed the quality 

 of his singing. Later in the day it often lost finish. The 

 tones sounded hard to get out or as if he were practising; 

 just running over the notes of an air that hung dim in his 

 memory. But it was pleasing to hear him practise; the 

 atmosphere was too lazy for perfect execution. He knew 

 he could pipe a tune to catch the ear, but he had to sit on 

 the tree-top, as if he were afraid some one would catch the 

 secret of his art if he sang lower down. Perhaps he was 

 vain, but I have watched him when he seemed to whistle 

 as unconsciously as I breathed. 



The morning of July 6th the three young birds left 



