The Baltimore Oriole 
103 
will weave gayly colored worsteds into their nests. This I very much 
doubt; or, if they do, I believe it is for lack of something more suitable. 
I have repeatedly hung varicolored bunches of soft twine, carpet-thread, 
flosses, and the like, on the bark of trees frequented by Orioles and, with 
one exception, the more somber tints were selected. 
In the exceptional case a long thread of scarlet linen-floss was taken 
and woven into the nest for about half its length, the remainder hanging 
,, down ; but, resuming my watch the next day, I found 
the weaver had left the half-finished task and crossed G ^ y C ° ! ° rs 
the lawn to another tree. Whether it was owing to 
the presence of red squirrels close by, or that the red thread had been a 
subject for domestic criticism and dissension, I do not know. 
Despite the bright hues of the birds and the hanging shape of the 
nest, which is rarely concealed by an overhanging branch, as is so often 
the case with other birds, an Oriole’s nest is exceedingly difficult to see 
unless one has noticed their trips to and fro when the birds were building 
it; but as soon as the half-dozen darkly etched and spotted eggs it con- 
tains hatch out, the vociferous . youngsters call one’s attention to the 
spot, and make their whereabouts known. When their parents bring 
them food, they squeal (yes, that is the only word for it) ; if they are 
left alone, they do likewise. Their baby voices can be heard above the 
wind, and it is only at night, when one would naturally 
suppose a parent to be upon the nest, that they are Noisy 
silent. The Oriole lives on a mixed diet, and loves e g mgs 
honey; but as a parent he becomes a provider of animal food for his 
home, and to his credit must be placed the destruction of a vast number 
of injurious tree-top insects that escape the notice of less agile birds. 
Complaints are frequently heard of his propensity for opening pods 
and eating young peas, piercing with his awl-like beak the throats of 
trumpet-shaped flowers for the honey, and, in the autumn, before the 
southward migration, sucking the juice of grapes and plums through this 
same slender, pointed bill. I have had the entire floral output of an old 
trumpet-vine riddled, bud and blossom ; and I have often stood and 
scolded these birds from under the boughs of a Spitzenburg apple-tree, 
amid the blossoms of which they were rummaging (perhaps for insects), 
and scattering the rosy blossoms right and left. Powell, in The Inde- 
pendent , has written feelingly of this trait of the Oriole, thus : 
“An Oriole is like a golden shuttle in the foliage, 
but he is the incarnation of mischief. If there is any- 
thing possible to be destroyed, the Oriole likes to tear 
it up. He wastes a lot of string in building his nest. He is pulling ofif 
apple-blossoms now, possibly eating a few petals. By and by he will pick 
holes in the bushels of grapes, and in the plum season he will let the wasps 
and hornets into the heart of every Golden Abundance plum on your 
favorite tree. . . . Yet the saucy scamp is so beautiful that he 
is tolerated — and he does kill an enormous lot of insects. There is a 
swinging nest just over there above the blackberry bushes. It is won- 
Mischief to 
Fruit 
