THE BUTCHER BIRD 



Every one who observes the habits of birds soon notices with 

 astonishment the regularity with which they return each summer to 

 the same spots to breed. This is perhaps not so strange in the case 

 of breeding birds; they may be so fastidious in their selection of 

 food or of a nesting site that only a few places suit them, or the 

 spot where they bred one year may appeal to their affection and so 

 be selected again. It is no less evident and more remarkable that 

 birds that spend only the winter in our neighborhood often have 

 as well defined a home as those that spend the summer. Every 

 autumn, about the first of November, if one looks carefully at the 

 topmost twigs of the small trees that are scattered about the edges 

 of some marsh, the eye may finally catch, perched on the very top, 

 the figure of a plump gray bird, with black wings and tail, about the 

 size of a Robin. Its tail often moves as if the bird were balancing 

 itself. A nearer view would show that its bill was stout and slightly 

 hooked, like a hawk's. Among song birds, it is our largest regular 

 winter visitor, and will remain near the same spot till the end of 

 March, when it retires northward to breed. The same trees serve 

 year after year as look-out posts; no doubt the bird remembers 

 where to find the fattest mice and grasshoppers. 



The Butcher Bird, or Shrike, is one of the few birds that seem 

 to have developed a sense of humor. I have seen it attack and 

 drive off birds far larger than itself, apparently out of simple mis- 

 chief. It often indulges in a succession of strange noises, some of 

 which resemble the song of the Catbird, but the whole performance 



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