regular Bluebeard among its kind. Its only
characteristic feature is its beak, the upper mandible having two sharp
processes and a sharp hooked point. It cannot fly away to any distance
with the bird it kills, nor hold it in its claws to feed upon it. It
usually impales its victim upon a thorn, or thrusts it in the fork of a
limb. For the most part, however, its food seems to consist of
insects,--spiders, grasshoppers, beetles, etc. It is the assassin of
the small birds, whom it often destroys in pure wantonness, or merely
to sup on their brains, as the Gaucho slaughters a wild cow or bull for
its tongue. It is a wolf in sheep's clothing. Apparently its victims
are unacquainted with its true character and allow it to approach them,
when the fatal blow is given. I saw an illustration of this the other
day. A large number of goldfinches in their fall plumage, together with
snowbirds and sparrows, were feeding and chattering in some low bushes
back of the barn. I had paused by the fence and was peeping through at
them, hoping to get a glimpse of that rare sparrow, the white-crowned.
Presently I heard a rustling among the dry leaves as if some larger
bird was also among them. Then I heard one of the goldfinches cry out
as if in distress, when the whole flock of them started up in alarm,
and, circling around, settled in the tops of the larger trees. I
continued my scrutiny of the bushes, when I saw a large bird, with some
object in its beak, hopping along on a low branch near the ground. It
disappeared from my sight for a few moments, then came up through the
undergrowth into the top of a young maple where some of the finches had
alighted, and I beheld the shrike. The little birds avoided him and
flew about the tree, their pursuer following them with the motions of
his head and body as if he would fain arrest them by his murderous
gaze. The birds did not utter the cry or make the demonstration of
alarm they usually do on the appearance of a hawk, but chirruped and
called and flew about in a half-wondering, half-bewildered manner. As
they flew farther along the line of trees the shrike followed them as
if bent on further captures. I then made my way around to see what the
shrike had caught, and what he had done with his prey. As I approached
the bushes I saw the shrike hastening back. I read his intentions at
once. Seeing my movements, he had returned for his game. But I was too
quick for him, and he got up out of the brush and