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RECREATION 



ever, he gives voice to a resonant squawk 

 which has an entirely different effect upon 

 the flock. At the first warning cry they rise 

 a few feet in the air and wing their way over 

 the pasture lots just high enough to clear 

 the old snake fences and disappear in the 

 deep shadows of the pines and chestnuts. 

 But these pranks in the corn fields only exas- 

 perate the farmer, and surely the birds may 

 be forgiven for that. Sad to relate, the same 

 crafty, thieving nature manifests itself in 

 the crow's domestic life. He has a very un- 

 fortunate fondness for both the young and 

 the eggs of his smaller neighbors. To make 

 matters worse he has not a vestige of the 

 courage possessed by the sturdy hawks that 

 swoop upon their victims, large and small 

 alike, with a display of bravery which, if 

 feared, may be justly admired. A skulker by 

 nature, the crow sneaks warily about the 

 woods and at last finds the desired nest, filled 

 perhaps with a complement of beautifully 

 marked eggs, or perhaps tenanted by a brood 

 of innocently blinking little birds, while the 

 faithful parents are searching for food just 

 beyond earshot. This is the situation the ras- 

 cal most desires for the perpetration of his 

 robbery. If the nest contains eggs he crushes 

 them at once and devours the contents. 

 Young birds are seized upon and carried off 

 to his rickety old nest and devoured more 

 leisurely by himself or his clamorous off- 

 spring. The formerly pretty home of his lit- 

 tle victims is made a desolate ruin to greet 

 the mother's eye as she, returns with a grass- 

 hopper for her little ones. The crow is not 

 exactly a gayly dressed bird, but his glossy 

 black feathers are beautiful to look upon 

 nevertheless, furnishing a strong dash of 

 color to our country landscape as a flock 

 flap silently over the fields against an Octo- 

 ber sky. 



Hark ! what harsh complaining whine is 

 it that greets our ears as we stand by the 

 roadside? The sound comes nearer and the 

 same cry is voiced as a dash of blue and 

 white literally shoots from the depths of the 

 woods and settles, upon the sweet-gum tree 

 at our left? Thus we are introduced to an- 

 other thief, and in the case of our bluejay 

 his beauty truly covers a multitude of sins. 

 This truly beautiful bird bids fair to be more 

 fascinating than the crow. The first fact or, 

 rather trait of character, which we are im- 

 pressed with is the bluejay's innate curiosity. 

 He surely heard us upon the road, and his 

 manner, as he cocks his head wisely upon one 

 side and then the other for a better view of 

 us, is really impudent. It says as plainly as 

 words, "I heard you coming and I hurried 

 here to ask what your business was." He 

 punctuates his inspection with his charac- 

 teristic cry of "Here, here," which brings his 

 mate to the tree in high dudgeon to assist 

 in the scrutiny. Restlessness, curiosity and 

 craftiness are a combination of traits which 



make the bluejay an exceedingly entertain- 

 ing, not to say amusing, subject for observ- 

 ance. He is pre-eminently a tormentor and a 

 tease. Nothing seems to furnish more gen- 

 uine delight than to discover the decayed and 

 hollow tree where some poor, sleepy old 

 owl is blinking the hours away until night 

 falls. A few excited hurry call notes sur- 

 round the tormentor with a bevy of kindred 

 adventurers and together (for in union is 

 strength) they make the owl very uncom- 

 fortable until something more enticing claims 

 their attention. Their robberies, however, are 

 not a whit less atrocious than those of the 

 crow, although carried on in a somewhat 

 more high-handed and deliberate manner. 

 His cousin, the Canada jay, according to 

 tales related 'round the Canadian campfires, 

 is so wonderfully audacious that nothing 

 should surprise us. Entering tents of the 

 frontiersmen and assailing his food supplies 

 and even his leather boots is a mere trifle 

 for this rascal, so perhaps we should be 

 thankful that we have only to deal with our 

 neighborly bluejay, who is much more a gay 

 cavalier than his boorish cousin in Canada. 



After all is said in condemnation of the 

 birds we have mentioned, it must be ad- 

 mitted that they only kill for their immediate 

 needs. This, we regret to say, is not the 

 case with the handsome northern shrike, a 

 bird, which is probably little known to many 

 of us. The many names which this bird is 

 endowed with are, no doubt, more expressive 

 than euphonious. Such names, for instance, 

 as butcher bird and nine-killer spirit us un- 

 consciously back to the mysterious and un- 

 canny black forests of the fairy tales. The 

 shrike has also, if we may use the term, a 

 very striking personality. "Matching the 

 bravest of the brave among birds of prey in 

 deeds of daring and no less relentless than 

 reckless, the shrike compels that sort of def- 

 erence not unmixed with indignation which 

 we are accustomed to accord to creatures of 

 seeming insignificance, whose exploits de- 

 mand much strength, great spirit and insa- 

 tiate love for carnage. We cannot be indif- 

 ferent to the marauder who takes his own 

 wherever he finds it, and an ogre whose vic- 

 tims are so many more than he can eat that 

 he actually keeps a private graveyard for the 

 balance." These few lines by Dr. Coues, 

 paint the bird's character in a vividly accur- 

 ate manner, for, sad to say, the shrike kills 

 wantonly — more than he can possibly use. 



Although field mice and grasshoppers are 

 his specialty he is very fond of killing small 

 birds, and this latter crime is perpetrated in 

 a very cunning manner. Hiding himself 

 carefully in the bushes he proceeds to lure 

 the feathered victim within range by his 

 fiendishly accurate imitation of his call note. 

 In this diabolical role of imitator he is 

 as much a master of the art as our esteemed 

 friend the mocking bird. After the capture, 



