Female: streaked brownish above and below, without any rosy color, but
orange-yellow under the wings; she looks like an overgrown Sparrow with
a swelled face.

A Summer Citizen of the eastern United States from Kansas and the
Carolina mountains to Canada, travelling south of the United States in
winter.

A Tree Trapper, Ground Gleaner, Weed Warrior, and Seed Sower. Rather
naughty once in a while about picking tree-buds, but on the whole a good
neighbor.

THE INDIGO BIRD

(THE BLUE CANARY)

"Blue birds and blue flowers are both rare; you can count our really
blue birds on the fingers of one hand, and a Blue Canary is even
stranger than a green rose or a black tulip.

"The Indigo Bird has many of the Canary's gentle ways, and though his
music is not so fine or varied as that of the Goldfinch or Song Sparrow,
he sings a sweet little tune to his brown mate on her nest in the bushy
pasture.

"She is fortunate in having a dull dress; for, if she were as splendidly
blue as her husband, nesting would be a very anxious occupation for her.
Indeed, her poor mate has anything but an easy time; his color is so
bright that everybody can see him at a glance, and when he picks up
grass-seed in the streaming sunlight, his feathers glisten like
sapphires."

"We saw an Indigo Bird yesterday!" cried Nat and Dodo together. "It was
in the geraniums by the dining-room window, eating the seed I tipped out
of my Canary's cage when I cleaned it," continued Dodo. "Mammy Bun said
it was a Blue Canary, but Nat said it couldn't be, and I forgot to ask
about it."

"Are you going to tell us about many more birds in the Finch family,
Uncle Roy?"

"Not now. You have heard about those that will be most likely to attract
your attention, and when you can name them, they will introduce you to
all the rest of their relations."

[Illustration: INDIGO BIRD.]

"It is a great family," said Rap, who was sitting thinking. "Big birds
and little, plain gray and brown, or red, blue, and yellow--some like
warm weather and some want it cold." "Speaking of cold, I wonder what
became of the ice that Dodo saw Mammy Bun cracking this morning?" asked
the Doctor, looking at Olive. "The very word has a pleasant sound, for
it seems to me to be growing warmer and warmer."

"Toot! toot! t-o-o-t!" squeaked a tin horn across the field from the
direction of the farmhouse.

"What's that?" said Nat, jumping up; "it's the dinner horn, and it can't
be dinner-tim