The Catbird 23 



hours of repose. In the late twilight of a summer evening, 

 when scarce another note is heard but the hum of the drowsy 

 beetle, the music of the Catbird attains its full effect, and often 

 rises and falls with all the swell and studied cadence of finished 

 harmony. During the heat of the day or late in the morning 

 the variety of his song declines, or he pursues his employment 

 in silence and retirement. 



About the 25th of May one of these familiar birds came 

 into the Botanic Garden at Cambridge and took up his sum- 

 mer abode with us. Soon after his arrival he called up in low 

 whisperings the notes of the Whippoorwill and Redbird, \}n.&peto 

 peto of the Tufted Titmouse, and other imitations of southern 

 birds which he had collected on his leisurely route from the 

 south. He also soon mocked the ' tshe-yah, Hshe-yah, 'tshe-yah 

 of the little Flycatcher with which the neighborhood now 

 abounded. He frequently answered to my whistle in the 

 garden, was very silent during the period of incubation, and 

 expressed great anxiety and complaint on my approaching the 

 young after their leaving the nest. 



One of the most remarkable propensities of the Catbird, 

 and the one to which it owes its name, is the unpleasant, loud 

 and grating cat-like mew {pay, 'pay, 'pay), which it often utters 

 on being approached or offended. As the irritation increases 

 this note becomes more hoarse, reiterated and vehement, and 

 so sometimes this petulance and anger are carried so far as to 

 persecute every intruder who approaches the premises. 



This temper often prevails after the young are fledged, and 

 though originating, no doubt, in parental anxiety, it sometimes 

 appears to outlive that season, and occasionally becomes such 

 an annoyance that a revengeful and fatal blow from a stick or 

 stone is but too often, with the thoughtless and prejudiced, 

 the reward of this harmless and capricious provocation. At 



