64 OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 
THE YELLOW-BILLED CUCKOO. 
All through the summer, about the dooryard, I 
had heard the hoarse kuk-kuk-kauk-kauk of the 
Cuckoo or Rain Crow, as he is sometimes called. He 
is said to call only before a rain, and has thus gained 
the name of “rain crow.” This is not strictly true, for 
while the bird seemed to cackle more in the morn- 
ing, just before a rain, he called many times when no 
rain immediately followed. 
Although he seemed to be very near all the time, 
I could never get a sight of him. Every attempt was 
baffled by the thick foliage, until one morning a bird 
darted suddenly in at a window and out at the door. 
I knew by its long tail and silent flight that it was 
the Cuckoo. Once after that I saw it drop quietly from 
a tree to the ground and pick at something in a slow, 
sleepy way. It remained some time upon the ground 
with wings slightly drooping and a sneaking expres- 
sion in its whole attitude. 
A few days after this it again dashed into the room, 
and striking against the door, fell to the floor. It 
fought furiously with its sharp curved bill when picked 
up from the floor. It was placed in a cage for further 
observation. The fall had stunned but not injured it, 
and I had a fine opportunity to note the delicate 
beauty of its olive gray plumage. 
It had such a clean, velvet-like sheen that a queen 
might covet the dress it wore. Its long dark tail was 
