interesting, and his sprightliness and evident enjoyment of life were a constant source of amusement, not only to my self, but to many friends who visited me. We called him Roly-poly. One day, while I was watching the cardinal (it was some time in October), there burst upon my ear the most brilliant song of that bird. Each long-drawn whistle was rounded and full, and the notes that followed had more than their ordinary sweetness. But I was looking at the cardinal, and he was not singing, and there were no others of his kind in the room. This song was repeated as the days followed, and I watched closely for the vocalist. Even when the cardinal again began to sing, hearing the two performances almost together, I could only distinguish a slight difference, which was not in the cardinal's favor. One day I was feeding Roly-poly from my hand with a meal-worm; when he had finished, he hopped back for a little distance, and, throwing his head in the air, sang, to my astonished ear, that phantom cardinal song which had so often mystified me. It was wonderful. I suppose that the scientific explanation of the phenomena would be " imitation or propinquity." And yet I would like to know, out of the many songs that came from the musical throats about him, why Roly-poly had chosen the cardinal for a maestro, and why no other melody appealed to him?

Jay-jay, or Jimmy, as we called him, was another grotesque, a sort of Rolypoly in appearance. He did not come from the same brood, and a certain accident of his youth was largely responsible for his condition. He, too, lacked the power of flight, and was without a tail, or had a comical feather or two as an apology. His curved bill was most pronounced and wholly unlike the finely shaped beak of his kind, the two mandibles crossed near the point.

Young jays, when they leave the nest, are about as vitally impetuous in their movements, as obdurate and insistent in their demands, as can well be conceived. Jimmy was no exception, and before acquiring the power of flight he followed whoever came into the room, with much fluttering of wings and em

phatic demands for food. His extreme 1curiosity and inquisitiveness were his undoing. We were visiting him one day in the room where he and some young orioles were at liberty, and his drolleries afforded us not only amusement but unbounded wonder. He was never still; being satisfied as far as food was concerned, we must be investigated. For a moment or two we were diverted by the young orioles, who were clambering and flitting over our persons, prying into buttonholes with their bills, and even endeavoring to open, what they doubtless thought was some treasure-hiding crevice, our lips. Suddenly we missed Jimmy; he was nowhere to be found. We had been sitting on the floor, as there was no furniture in the room, but at last, in a fold of my companion's gown, we discovered the lost bird, if not dead, certainly unconscious, for he had been squeezed unwittingly by some slight motion. He breathed, and after a little was quite himself again. However, as the days passed, it became evident that our little friend was not growing as a blue jay should. They are lusty birds, and under proper conditions the development of the young is almost like the unfolding of some great flower from its bud. But Jimmy did not unfold; his wing feathers wouldn't grow right; moreover, he had a curious way of turning a sort of back somersault that prejudiced any semblance of a tail. This acrobatic feat had its origin, I think, in his efforts to fly. Standing on the floor, he would open his wings and spring into the air. These jumps would take him about ten inches off the ground directly upwards. Then, his wings being inadequate to sustain him, he would fall over backwards, and, turning one or more somersaults in the air, would alight on his feet unhurt. It was very droll, but withal a pathetic performance.

Jimmy lived many years, and in all the coterie of bird friends about him he was apparently highly esteemed, except by one wood-thrush, who would tease and pretend to attack him. Jay-jay, in his efforts to escape, threw many back somersaults, without injury to himself, but much to the edification of the songster who plagued him. On the whole, I

where a break in the ice left a small pool open. He was dousing himself with the icy water until he became completely drenched, when, perceiving me, on my close approach, he shook some of the heavy element from his bedraggled feathers, and with a cry flew to a neighboring tree, where in the wind he soon preened himself till dry. Jimmy took his bath in this way. It was no "lick and a promise," but plunge after plunge until he was soaked. When wet in this way he was more than ordinarily inexact in his locomotion, and this time his somersault fetched him into the middle of the pan, where he lay, overcome by his exertions, till half drowned. At this juncture I happened to look in and rescued the now unconscious bird. I thought he was certainly gone, when a quiver of one leg showed me my error. I wrapped him hastily in a towel, dried him as best I could, and, not being familiar with the exact methods of "first aid to the injured," forced a few drops of whisky down his throat and laid him away by the warmth of a fire to dry. In an hour he was none the worse for the mishap.

Jimmy certainly had pluck, and the quality we call "sand" was one of his chief attributes. Perhaps because he was an anomaly he attracted more than ordinary attention. I have often wondered whether the compensations that come to the lives of many afflicted mortals are not also vouchsafed to deformed pets. There is small opportunity for any physical indulgence or weakness, for sickness or what we call pain, in the out-of-door realm. The inhabitants of the woods and fields have no time to indulge in headaches or colics; they cannot afford to relax their vigilance, and if out of balance in any way they soon become the prey of enemies. There could have been no freak like Jimmy out-of-doors.

To sum him up, this dwarf blue jay, misshapen and eccentric, was like the grotesque hunchbacks kept by the lords and barons of feudal days to afford them diversion by their appearance and many drolleries. Jimmy was the touchstone of the bird room; he played the part well.

I am aware that the point of view of men, of the wild creatures that surround them, is based on human standards. A little reflection, it seems to me, would radically alter all this, and the futility of attributing to them the moral and ethical codes which we apply to ourselves must be apparent. For instance, I am sure that hawks and shrikes do not commit murder, nor are they cannibals, yet we know of their sanguinary lives and doings. Neither can I allow for a moment that the cowbird is an example of moral depravity. Did space permit, I believe that I could conclusively show that its breeding habits are the effect of slight deviations at first, which finally result in escape from most of the trying duties that the majority of birds sustain during the breeding season. Blue jays are noted as thieves because they have been frequently seen robbing birds' nests. Like other members of the crow family, they delight not only in prying into and investigating everything about them, but often in stealing, or, to put it more exactly, collecting, various small articles, which are stored away, and which are of no possible use to them. But I cannot regard them as either busybodies or misers. There is neither malice nor ulterior motive in these proceedings.

From my relationship with blue jays out-of-doors, and a greater intimacy established with those who are members of the bird family in my laboratory, I am inclined to believe that they are not only sincerely affectionate, but their disposition towards other birds, birds in general, is a kindly one. There is no bird in my collection so small but that the blue jay makes way for him; and so gentle a creature as a wood-thrush tyrannizes over my jays in a manner that would be resented by any man. A red-crested cardinal from Brazil, much smaller than his blue friends, easily preempts the bath-tub, the common property of the coterie, and the blue jays wait patiently, or only dare to dip in at the edge when the other is not looking, till the leisurely washing of the scarletcrested beauty is finished. It is the same with the food dishes. A starling or song-sparrow readily persuades a jay to leave to them, till satisfied, such dain

ties as they all care for. Wanton attack on the part of a blue jay upon other birds with which I have associated him I have never witnessed. Bobolinks, nonpareils, song-sparrows, orchard orioles, and bluebirds, that for years have lived in a room with my jays, have never suffered the slightest molestation. I cannot think that it is radically different out-of-doors, and, aside from occasional depredations on the nests of other birds, I believe the blue jay to be one of the most kindly denizens of the forest. I use the word occasional, for I am well aware that eggs and young birds do not form a large part of the menu of the blue jay, even during May, June, and July. Beetles and other insects, snails and mice, wild fruits and berries, figure largely in his bill of fare even during the breeding season; and for nine months in the year, surely, the blue jay, with his penchant for acorns and worms, with his energetic hunting for noxious insects and other small vermin, cannot be regarded as anything but a benefit, from an economic point of view, to his human friends.

While certain characteristics seem to be common to all blue jays, a greater familiarity with them will sustain the assertion that they have much individuality. This has already appeared in this story, but should be emphasized. They are all great mimics, frequently deceiving one by the excellence of their efforts. Attracted by disagreeable or harsh noises, the result is often comic. I knew one in the woods, a wild fellow in Florida, living in the vicinity of a lumber camp, who delighted and amused himself by hours with simulating the sound of a coarse saw hewing its way through wood. He even discovered that at times the regulations of the instrument's vibrations was disturbed by sundry agonizing squeaks. I am sure he did not attribute this to lack of grease, but, at any rate, now and again his imitations included the cry of the saw for oil. I have told how Roly-poly sang the song of the cardinal, how Jimmy had a series of soft, long whistles not unlike the cadences of the wood peewee, and yet another jay, one of the four previously mentioned, had a

peculiarly musical series of whistling notes, and would give vent to them whenever he was pleased by any happening. My approach always elicited them, and this was the only one of the four brothers and sisters who attempted to whistle. It is well to know that all were brought up under precisely the same conditions, and were never separated.

The

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Another of the four has a curious way of amusing himself which must be related in detail to be appreciated. large flying-room where these birds are confined with many others is partitioned from a smaller part by a wire screen. The entry to the flying-room is through a broad doorway, and the door opens inward. Of the hundred or more birds in the room, I have never known an individual to try to go out by this door, except this one blue jay. Almost daily it is his custom, when the door is opened to bring in food or water, or for any purpose whatsoever, to fly outside. does not wait near for this purpose, but is often ten or fifteen feet away across the room. At first, in my ignorance, I was alarmed lest he might escape altogether, and used to pursue and finally catch him, and restore him to his companions. One day it occurred to me to alter my method. I stood by the door pushing it so that it was wide open, and called to the jay in a peremptory way. After waiting a moment, he came flying back into the room from which he had escaped, seemingly as well content to go through that way as the other, and, withal, I conceive he was amused with the game. This has been repeated now

so many hundreds of times as no longer to excite particular attention; in fact, it is a daily episode. It is an endless source of pleasure to the actor, and I think warrants us in concluding that individuality exists among birds, and that their point of view and temperaments widely differ.

I have attempted, in the foregoing pages, to present some of the characteristics of a very interesting, a singularly beautiful, and a remarkably intelligent bird. As I read it through I realize that the story is not half told, that I have only touched here and there on some matters of interest.