WHAT BIRDS SAY AND SING 223 



high nervous tension. If a bird has any idea 

 of self-protection, it would seem that a cardinal, 

 making a flaming target every time he wings his 

 flight in the open, would naturally keep to the 

 shrubbery and underbrush, but not so. Beside 

 public highways, in all kinds of thickets and bushes 

 on the banks of rivers, in orchards, grape vines, 

 and gardens, he builds; and one pair, in my child- 

 hood, nested on a bough of a Norway pine only a 

 few feet from our front door and not four feet 

 from the ground. 



With every intrusion of human, animal, or other 

 bird, both cardinals begin to fly around excitedly, 

 the male crying, "Chip! chip!" each note cut 

 ofl^ in a manner extremely abrupt. In times of 

 excitement, the female answers, "Chip!" but 

 when she is brooding or has a nestful of young in 

 her care, and the cry of the male bird is merely a 

 note of inquiry, she frequently answers with a soft, 

 throaty "Chook" that reminds me of the tones 

 of a clucking hen. In his music, the cardinal is a 

 whistler, and he varies his strain much more fre- 

 quently than the average feathered musician. 

 One of his famous whistled tunes is a repetition 

 of the same notes: "Wheat, wheat, wheat!" 

 Again, he very distinctly cries: "Here, here, 

 here!" and like the flicker in using the same word 

 but entirely different in the sound, he also whis- 

 tles: "Wet, wet, wet!" In his more elaborate 

 strains he very clearly whistles: "Come here" in 



