A BREATH OF APRIL 



which most birds utter when caught by a cat or a 

 hawk — the voice of uncontrolled terror and pain, 

 which is nearly the saine in all species — disso- 

 nant and piercing. The other notes and calls are 

 characteristie, but this last is the simple screech of 

 common terrified nature. 



When my bluebirds dashed at each other with 

 beak and claw, their preliminary utterances had 

 to my ears anything but a hostile sound. Indeed, 

 for the bluebird to make a harsh, discordant sound 

 seems out of the question. Once, when the two 

 males lay upon the ground with outspread wings 

 and locked beaks, a robin flew down by them and 

 for a moment gazed intently at the blue splash 

 upon the grass, and then went his way. 



As the birds drifted about the grounds, first the 

 males, then the females rolling on the grass or in 

 the dust in fierce combat, and between times the 

 members of each pair assuring each other of undy- 

 ing interest and attachment, I followed them, ap- 

 parently quite unnoticed by them. Sometimes they 

 would lie more than a minute upon the ground, 

 each trying to keep his own or to break the other's 

 hold. They seemed so oblivious of everything about 

 them that I wondered if they might not at such times 

 fall an easy prey to cats and hawks. Let me put 

 their watchfulness to the test, I said. So, as the two 

 males clinched again and fell to the ground, I 

 cautiously approached them, hat in hand. When 

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