The Black-headed Grosbeaks 



two weeks? At three dollars per day? Thirty-six dollars! Put that 

 on the credit side of the Grosbeak's account. But the man couldn't 

 do it; and there is in that half bushel of pests potential destruction of a 

 hundred olive trees, or at least one season's crop, say a hundred bushels, 

 worth four dollars a bushel. Total saved to the community four hun- 

 dred dollars, less two dollars for board! Johnny, get your gun! There's a 

 bird eating a cherry! 



For Younger Readers 



HANDSOME is that handsome does, they tell us, and this bird 

 is handsome any way you take him. He has a good heart as well as 

 good clothes, but I guess we'll look at his clothes first. It takes a 

 good deal of time to look at a heart, or to find out "handsome does." 

 Or, no ! the very first thing we do when we meet a new friend is to look 

 at his face, isn't it? And a Grosbeak's face is almost all bill. Gros- 

 beak is the same as gross beak, and that means big bill. Suppose we 

 call him Big Bill. Big Bill has a black-and-white suit, on top at 

 least; but he is buried in front in a great big orange apron (golden 

 brown, somebody called it), which ties behind in two places. And 

 under the arms (wings are the same as arms, you know) there's a big 

 patch of yellow that you can't see except when the bird is flying. 

 And when Mother Nature was trying to hide the yellow under his 

 arms, she spilt some of the color down the front of his apron. Now 

 that's what I call a pretty complete description. Mrs. Grosbeak looks 

 a good deal the same, only she's been many times through the wash, 

 and most of the color has soaked out — all except the yellow patch 

 under her wings, and that didn't soak out because she kept her wings 

 tight shut when she was in the wash. 



Mr. and Mrs. Grosbeak spend the winter down south somewhere, 

 in Mexico, I guess; but they come back to California in the spring- 

 time, when the bugs are ripe; and then Mr. Grosbeak spends half his 

 time catching bugs and the other half singing. My! how sweetly he 

 sings! round, rich, rolling notes that make you so glad you're here, 

 and so glad he came, and so glad — oh, for just everything. I can't 

 tell you how he sings, of course. You must hear him the very first 

 chance you get. 



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