AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 
63 
ing their thread that may chance to be out bleaching, and 
the farmer to secure his young grafts; as the Baltimore, 
finding the former, and the strings which tie the latter, so 
well adapted for his purpose, frequently carries offboth; or 
should the one be too heavy, and the other too firmly tied, 
he will tug at them a considerable time before he gives up 
the attempt. Skeins of silk, and hanks of thread, have 
been often found, after the leaves were fallen, hanging 
round the Baltimore’s nest; but so woven up, and entan- 
gled, as to be entirely irreclaimable. Before the intro- 
duction of Europeans, no such material could have been 
obtained here; but with the sagacity of a good architect, 
he has improved this circumstance to his advantage; and 
the strongest and best materials are uniformly found in 
those parts by which the whole is supported. 
Their principal food consists of caterpillars, beetles, and 
bugs, particularly one of a brilliant glossy green, frag- 
ments of which I have almost always found in their sto- 
mach, and sometime these only. 
The song of the Baltimore is a clear mellow whistle, re- 
peated at short intervals as he gleams among the branches. 
There is in it a certain wild plaintiveness and naivete, ex- 
tremely interesting. It is not uttered with the rapidity of 
the ferruginous thrush, ( Turdus rufus,) and some other 
eminent songsters; but with the pleasing tranquillity of a 
careless plough-boy, whistling merely for his own amuse- 
ment. When alarmed by an approach to his nest, or any 
such circumstances, he makes a kind of rapid chirruping, 
very different from his usual note. This, however, is 
always succeeded by those mellow tones, which seem so 
congenial to his nature. 
High on yon poplar clad in glossiest green, 
The orange, black-capp’d Baltimore is seen, 
The broad extended boughs still please him best ; 
Beneath their bending skirts he hangs his nest ; 
There his sweet mate, secure from every harm, 
Broods o’er her spotted store, and wraps them warm ; 
Lists to the noontide hum of busy bees, 
Her partner’s mellow song, the brook, the breeze ; 
These, day by day, the lonely hours deceive, 
From dewy morn to slow descending eve. 
Two weeks elaps’d, behold a helpless crew ! 
Claim all her care and her affection too ; 
On wings of love th’ assiduous nurses fly, 
Flowers, leaves, and boughs, abundant food supply ; 
Glad chants their guardian as abroad he goes, 
And waving breezes rock them to repose. 
The Baltimore inhabits North America, from Canada to 
Mexico, and is even found as far south as Brazil. Since 
the streets of our cities have been planted with that beau- 
tiful and stately tree, the Lombardy poplar, these birds 
are our constant visiters during the early part of summer; 
and amid the noise and tumult of coaches, drays, wheel- 
barrows, and the din of the multitude, they are heard 
chanting “their native wood notes wild;” sometimes too 
within a few yards of an oysterman, who stands bellow- 
ing with the lungs of a Stentor, under the shade of the 
same tree; so much will habit reconcile even birds to the 
roar of the city, and to sounds and noises, that in other cir- 
cumstances, would put a whole grove of them to flight. 
These birds are several years in receiving their com- 
plete plumage. Sometimes the whole tail of a male indi- 
vidual, in spring, is yellow, sometimes only the two mid- 
dle feathers are black, and frequently the black on the 
back is skirted with orange, and the tail tipt with the same 
colour. Three years, I have reason to believe, are neces- 
sary to fix the full tint of the plumage, and then the male 
bird appears as already described. 
The males generally arrive several days before the fe- 
males, saunter about their wonted places of residence, and 
seem lonely and less sprightly than after the arrival of 
their mates. In the spring and summer of 1811, a Balti- 
more took up its abode in Mr. Bartram’s garden, whose 
notes were so singular as particularly to attract my atten- 
tion; they were as well known to me as the voice of my 
most intimate friend. On the thirtieth of April, 1S12, I 
was again surprised and pleased at hearing this same Bal- 
timore in the garden, whistling his identical old chant; 
and I observed that he particularly frequented that quar- 
ter of the garden where the tree stood, on the pendant 
branches of which he had formed his nest the preceding 
year. This nest had been taken possession of by the 
House Wren, a few days after the Baltimore’s brood had 
abandoned it; and curious to know how the little intruder- 
had furnished it within, I had taken it down early in the 
fall, after the Wren herself had also raised a brood of six 
young in it, and which was her second that season. I 
found it striptof its original lining, floored with sticks, or 
small twigs, above which were laid feathers; so that the 
usual complete nest of the Wren occupied the interior of 
that of the Baltimore. 
The chief difference between the male and female Balti- 
more Oriole, is the superior brightness of the orange co- 
lour of the former to that of the latter. The black on the 
head, upper part of the back and throat, of the female, is 
intermixed with dull orange; whereas, in the male, those 
parts are of a deep shining black; the tail of the female also 
wants the greater part of the black, and the whole lower 
parts are of a much duskier orange. 
I have observed that these birds are rarely seen in 
pine woods, or where these trees generally prevail. On 
the ridges of our high mountains, they are also seldom to 
