342 CHAPTERS ON THE NATURAL HISTORY 



If upon any tine spring morning in the country, where the Yel- 

 low-breasted chat is found, one chances to pass in his rambles 

 into some thicket of hazel bushes, or into the dense undergrowth 

 of brambles, sruilax, and wild grape vines, his ears may be sud- 

 denly saluted with the grotesque notes of this bird, as he scolds 

 you from the heart of his haunts for the intrusion. You listen, 

 and peer into the thicket with the hope of catching sight of the 

 singular performer, but, for a while at least, all your efforts in 

 this direction are in vain. Although apparently very near at 

 hand comes the anxious and angry repetitions of a series of pecu- 

 liar whistling notes, the flame-breasted scamp is not to be seen. 



These notes pass to a hoarse and guttural squawking as they 

 appear to gradually vanish in the distance, and become slower 

 and slower in their utterance. Suddenly, however, and perhaps 

 directly over your head, in the most remarkable manner, they 

 break out again in a loud and perfect jumble of alternate, rapid 

 and slow, cat-mewings and puppy-barkings, intermixed with a 

 selection of other notes quite defying the powers of description. 

 Now they are upon this hand, and now upon that, high pitched 

 and low pitched, until you verily believe the thicket is truly be- 

 witched and full of unseen sprites. In your despair at being 

 unable of even catching a glimpse of the author of this extraordi- 

 nary tirade, you take on to imitate him. This has a telling effect 

 almost immediately, and in many cases, so to speak, draws him 

 out, for, for the time putting aside his wonderful powers of ven- 

 triloquism, and his scoldings taking on a greater degree of ve- 

 hemence, he at last launches into the air above his retreat, and 

 with cawing notes uttered in varied key, he with jerky flight 

 appears in full view. After ascending some thirty feet or more, 

 he essays to again descend to the brush. This he does with slow 

 flapping wings and dangling legs, in manner indulged in by no 

 other bird known to me. If you persist in your imitations he may 

 follow you along from copse to copse for a quarter of a mile or 

 more, joined, sooner or later, perhaps, by others of the same spe- 

 cies. Wilson has very truly remarked: " If the weather be mild 

 and serene, with clear moonlight, he continues gabbling in the 

 same strange dialect, with very little intermission, during the 

 whole night, as if disputing with his own echoes, but probably 

 with a design of inviting passing females to his retreat; for, when 

 the season is further advanced, they are seldom heard during the 

 night." 



