THE GARDEN BOOK OF CALIFORNIA 



that there were, among my bird friends, some with a deep 

 sense of humor. The linnet has a chirrupy, laughing way 

 about him, and I know the tame blackbird about the barn- 

 yard has a genuine air of the wag, and not only will he twit 

 you about your peculiar ways, but he will play waggish 

 tricks on his feathered kind with all the gusto of the magpie. 

 And then our California mocker is such an active 

 fellow. Did you ever watch him build his nest? In and 

 out, up and down he flies, choosing here and there and dis- 

 carding, oh, so much that other birds would prize. He will 

 painstakingly gather fibers from the palm leaves and the 

 mid-ribs of such leaves as the eucalyptus affords, and care- 

 fully weave them into his nest, until an improved spiral-spring 

 mattress "isn't in it" for comfort. He will swing it, too, in 

 such a way that it will sway gently with every passing 

 breeze, and his pretty quiet little sweetheart will be perfectly 

 content to stay at home day after day as long as her liege 

 lord does not fail to report himself before unseemly hours 

 of night have overtaken him. 



"Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, 

 The linnet, and thrush say: 'I love, and I love!' 

 In the winter they're silent — the wind is so strong; 

 What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song. 

 But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, 

 And singing, and loving — all come back together. 

 But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love. 

 The green fields below him, the blue sky above, 

 That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he: 

 ' I love my love, and my love loves me!' " 



1112] 



