FIELD AND STUDY 



is true of several, probably of most, other species. 

 A friend of mine has a summer home in one of the 

 more secluded valleys of the Catskills, and every 

 June for three years a pair of catbirds have nested 

 near the house; and every day, many times, one or 

 both birds come to the dining-room window, for 

 sweet butter. Very soon after their arrival they ap- 

 pear at the window, shy at first, but soon becoming 

 so tame that they approach within a few feet of the 

 mistress of the house. They light on the chairbacks 

 and sometimes even hop on the table, taking the 

 butter from the fork held by the mistress. Their 

 behavior now is very convincing that one or both 

 have been at the window for butter in previous 

 years. 



Let me quote a page or two from my notebook, 

 under date of May 25 : — 



Walked down through the fields and woods to the river, 

 and then along the wooded banks toward home. 



Redstarts here and there in the woods, going through 

 their pretty gymnastics. None of our insect-feeders known 

 to me so engage the eye. The flashes of color, and the 

 acrobatic feats — how they set each other off! It is all 

 so much like a premeditated display, or a circus, or an 

 operatic performance, that one is surprised to find a 

 solitary bird in the woods so intent upon it. Every move- 

 ment is accompanied by its own feathered display. The 

 tail, with its bands of black and orange, is as active in 

 opening and shutting as a lady's fan 1 at the opera signal- 

 ing to her lover; the wings unfold, or droop, and second 

 8 



