MORE ABOUT MY FEATHERED FRIENDS. 93 



This morning there is a flock of some dozen individuals 

 in my garden. They are full of frolic and fun, and if 

 •one may judge by the noise they are making as they 

 fly hither and thither from bough to bough and tree to 

 tree, they are having a gay time chattering and whis- 

 pering to one another, and one might almost say, laugh- 

 ing, like a party of light-hearted children at play. 



One wonders what it is all about. I really think it 

 must be a wedding . party, and a joyous one, too — a 

 match of which both families approve. See how impor- 

 tant some of the older birds look, setting up their soft- 

 crested heads and puffing out their breasts. As they 

 •dart past me I catch sight of the bright scarlet orna- 

 ments, like bits of red sealing-wax, on the wing feathers. 

 These jewels are the distinguishing marks of the full- 

 grown male bird, and no doubt but the little feathered 

 •dandy is as proud of these bits of finery as any girl is 

 of her brooches and bangles. 



The Bohemian Wax-wing is of foreign extraction. He 

 is a little aristocrat, somewhat exclusive, and vain of the 

 family of which he is the head. He does not mix him- 

 self up with the common folk, but keeps religiously to 

 himself, for you never find him and his party with the 

 .smaller species, the cedar birds, native to the country. 



The Bohemian is a great traveller, and seems to spend 

 his time in visiting strange lands. He is found in many 

 •countries, and it is not easy to locate his home. He and 

 his family do not settle down soberly, as some other 



