BY THE WAYSIDE 
50 
**A few years ago I made some inter¬ 
esting observations in a small field of po¬ 
tatoes near m v house. No remedial meas¬ 
ures were applied to the crop, but both 
beetles and birds were given a fair field 
and no favors. At first the insects in¬ 
creased in numbers in spite of the daily 
visits of the birds, but when the young 
of the latter were hatched, the numbers 
of the beetles began to diminish rapidly, 
and when the young birds were fledged 
and were brought by their parents and 
placed in a row upon the fence around 
the field, the insects rapidly disappeared, 
and when I examined the field a week 
later I could not find a single beetle, 
either voung or adult. About this time 
the birds began to prey upon some peas 
in mv garden, and I shot one of them 
and examined the contents of its stom¬ 
ach. It consisted of one large green cat¬ 
erpillar (Sphingida^), several potato 
beetles, and a few fragments of peas. 
My conclusion was that the few peas 
taken had been well paid for. However, 
I hung an old coat on a pole near the pea 
vines, and the birds came near them 
no more. All of the above observations 
were made in a state in Iowa, which was 
one of the first states to suffer from the 
attacks of the beetles on their eastward 
march.” 
With an abundance of food the Rose¬ 
breasted Grosbeak is becoming more 
common. It is only that we let them 
alone and provide suitable places for 
nesting and the potato-bug will become 
a memory. 
The following description of its song is 
Audubon’s: 
“One year, in the month of August, I 
was trudging along the shores of the 
Mohawk River, when night overtook me. 
Being little acquainted with that part of 
tlie country, I resolved to camp where I 
was. The evening was calm and beauti¬ 
ful, the sky sparkled with stars, which 
were reflected bv the smooth waters, and 
the deep shade of the rocks and trees of 
the opposite shore fell on the bosom of 
the stream, while gently from afar came 
on the ear the muttering sound of the 
cataract. Mv little fire was soon lighted 
under a rock, and, spreading out my 
scanty stock of provisions, I reclined on 
my grassy couch. As I looked around 
on the fading features of the beautiful 
landscape, my heart turned toward my 
distant home, where mv friends were 
doubtless wishing me, as I wished them, 
a happy night and peaceful slumbers. 
Then there were heard the barkings of 
the watch-dog, and I tapped my faithful 
companion to prevent his answering 
them. The thoughts of my worldly mis¬ 
sion then came over my mind, and hav¬ 
ing thanked the Creator of all for His 
never-failing mercy, I closed my eyes, 
and was passing away into the world of 
dreaming existence, when suddenly there 
burst on my soul the serenade of the 
Rose-breasted bird, so rich, so mellow, so 
loud in the stillness of the night, that 
sleep fled from my eyelids. Never did 
I enjoy music more: it thrilled through 
my heart, and surrounded me with an 
atmosphere of bliss. One might easily 
have imagined that even the Owl charmed 
by such delightful music, remained rev¬ 
erently silent. Long after the sounds 
ceased did I enjoy them, and when all 
had again become still, I stretched out 
my wearied limbs, and gave myself up to 
the luxury of repose.” 
Male—Head, throat, and back black; 
breast and under wing-coverts bright 
rose-red; rump, white,tipped with black, 
wings black. Female—Upper parts 
grayish-brown, margined with buff. 
Under parts huffy, streaked with dark 
grayish-brown.— Chapman's Birds of East¬ 
ern North America. 
