30 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



their nests in high trees, where I could not replace 

 them, those orphaned by an accident or some 

 prowKng creature, while sometimes a nest of young 

 birds was brought me by a neighbour who thought 

 he was doing me a kindness; so I left the country 

 in company with nine birds, none smaller than a 

 grosbeak, that had been raised by hand. I had to 

 arrange my school day so that there was a morning 

 hour in which to clean the cages, change sand, 

 scrape perches, scour bath-tubs, and cook food. 



My especial favourite among my pets was a 

 brown thrasher named Peter, because he had 

 constantly called: "Pe-ter, Pe-ter" in the dis- 

 tressful days when he was missing his mother and 

 growing accustomed to my longer intervals be- 

 tween feedings. One of my brothers had found 

 him helpless and dying beside a country road and 

 had picked him up and put him in his pocket for 

 me. When he was given into my care, he was 

 half-starved. After a few minutes, he opened his 

 bill for food, and in a short time spent in getting 

 acquainted we became the greatest friends. He 

 grew to be a strong, fine, male bird, and in the 

 spring of his second year developed a remarkably 

 sweet voice, with which he imitated the song of 

 every bird that could be heard around our house. 

 He also made excursions into improvisations, which 

 I could not recognize as familiar bird notes. One 

 warm night of summer my father suggested that 

 Peter would be more comfortable if left on the 



