442 LITTLE. STRANGERS JN \GinaY, 
‘feeling ” of thorns, that it actually 
sent out great clumps of them from 
the bare trunk, where there was not a 
shadow of excuse for being. They grew 
in a confused mass, so that at first I 
thought there had been a hole which 
some person had stopped by crowding 
it full of those vegetable needles, at 
all angles, and of all sizes up to the 
largest. On one sidealone of the trunk, 
not more than five feet high, were eight 
of these eruptions of thorns. Could the 
most bloodthirsty shrike desire a more 
commodious larder ? 
I looked carefully, dreading to see 
evidence of their use in the traditional 
way. Outside there, on the telegraph 
wire, sat one of the birds, very much 
at home ; it was the height of the sea- 
son, and the country was swarming with 
young birds. Now, if ever, they should 
lay up for the future, and prove their 
right to the name, or kill to amuse 
themselves, if that were their object. 
But the closest scrutiny failed to reveal 
one thorn that was, or, so far as I could 
see, ever had been, used for any purpose 
whatever. There was not another 
spiny tree in the vicinity, and I came 
away relieved. 
One more interview I was happy 
enough to have with my little gray 
friends. Coming leisurely along on my 
way home from the glen one noon, I 
saw two of them sitting on the wire of 
a fence beside the road. I had never 
been so near them, and stopped instant- 
ly to have a close look, and perhaps set- 
tle the question whether the black band 
on the side of the head ended at the 
beak, or crossed over the forehead and 
met its fellow. I found, at this short 
range, that the ight part of the plumage 
was covered with fine, but decided, wavy 
bars, which gave itan exquisite look, and 
proved the bird to be the great Northern, 
rather than the loggerhead shrike (I 
couldn't bear to have my bright beauty 
ealled a loggerhead). 
Very gradually I drew nearer, till I 
was not more than six feet from them, 
and could see them clearly, while they 
remained perfectly self-possessed for ten 
or fifteen minutes that I stood there. 
So near was I that I could see the white 
eyelids, and the tiny feet, which seemed 
hardly strong enough to hold them on 
their perch, and explained their prefer- 
ence for wires to rest on. 
One of the little fellows had his 
back to me, showing the beautiful white 
markings on his wings as they le 
closed and folded together. Near the 
end of them were white lines making 
on the black feathers a figure resem- 
bling what is known in needlework as 
a * Crow's -foot,” perhaps an inch in 
width, and, a little above this, two dainty 
waved bars met like a pair of eyebrows. 
The marking was elegant in the extreme. 
While I looked, the bird nearest me 
suddenly lost what little interest he had 
in my doings, turned his eyes downward, 
and in a moment dropped upon a big 
grasshopper, which he carried in his 
beak to a wire near the ground to dis- 
pose of. Evidently, however, he was 
not quite ready to eat, for he deliberate- 
ly lifted one foot, took the grasshopper 
in his claw, and instantly ejected upon 
the ground adark-colored bolus, I should 
judge half an inch in diameter, and 
more than twice as long. ‘Then he re- 
turned to his grasshopper and made 
short work of it. 
This seemed only to sharpen his ap- 
petite, for in a moment he dragged out 
from the grass something which startled 
me. W. as it feathers or fur or a bit of 
old rag ? 
I could soon tell, for he was not in the 
least ashamed or secretive aboutit. He 
pulled it to where a fallen wire lay very 
near the ground, threw it partly over 
the wire, plainly asa hold to pull against, 
and then jerked off a mouthful which 
he ate. Again and again did he fling it 
over the wire, for it soon slipped off, and 
it was perfectly evident that the object 
was to give him purchase. Also it was 
not hard to see that his small feet made 
it impossible to hold such big prey, as 
Wilson suggests, and to understand why 
he needs a thorn to keep it in place. 
While I stood watching this feast in 
progress, a call came from across the 
road. It was not loud, and it was of a 
quality hard to express, not exactly 
harsh, nor yet musical. It was instantly 
answered by the two onthe fence. ‘The 
one I was watching dropped his fresh 
meat, and joined his brother in the rush 
for the parent. 
OLIVE THORNE MILLER. 
a" 
