Cambridge, Massachusetts.
1900.
December.
(13)
 just in time to see that the Shrike had caught his quarry on
the open ground directly in front of the door. A few well
directed raps despatched the Sparrow, and then we hastened 
out of the building to see the sequel. The Shrike seizing
the dead bird in his bill flew over the center of the garden,
alighting in one of the trees by the pond about thirty yards
off. As we cautiously advanced in that direction, our bird,
with the Sparrow hanging from his bill, started off and flew
to the north end of the garden and then, circling about, flew
low down directly over our heads as we stood in the path by
the pond, and alighted in the lilacs some eight or ten feet up,
on the east side of and near the path in which we were. We
stood by the Parkman's apple tree, twenty yards from the bird
and with my glass every movement was depicted with absolute
clearness.
  Close by where the bird was standing was a fork made by
two small branches. The Shrike deftly swung the Sparrow into
the fork, and pulling hard for three or four times, secured
it. The bird did not assist the operation by flapping its
wings. This we noticed carefully. Every movement was plain-
ly seen. Then the Butcher Bird, a fitting name surely, began
plucking the feathers from the bird but after four or five
pecks, the Sparrow, not being securely enough fastened, was
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