BIRD PARADISE 71 



rowed. The movement of the catbird bears the 

 stamp of a sly, shrewd character, though I know 

 of nothing standing against him that is not to his 

 credit. As I see him he is nearly always gliding 

 around among the willows, so much so that he 

 might appropriately take the name of willow bird. 

 I have seen the catbird several times in the 

 hedges and thickets in Utica. Like some other 

 of our wood birds he is becoming more cosmo- 

 politan in his habits every year. 



Nearly all our birds are now here. Another 

 week will bring the cuckoo, which completes the 

 list. I notice that the bobolinks and orioles seem 

 to be on duty in unusual numbers. I hear their 

 songs everywhere in the trees and fields, full and 

 cheery as they should be in the day-dawn of the 

 spring time. Curious, and ever more curious, to 

 me is their method of dropping the song when the 

 nesting season is over, leaving it entirely unused 

 for three-quarters of the year, then picking it up, 

 every note in place, and as musical as though they 

 had been daily practicing all the time. Someway 

 in this particular they have gotten well ahead of 

 the human brother. Curious, too, that among the 

 birds the gentlemen do all the singing. The 



