John Burroughs says of him: "The exquisite of the family, and the
braggart of the orchard, is the Kingbird, a bully that loves to strip
the feathers off its more timid neighbors like the Bluebird, that
feeds on the stingless bees of the hive, the drones, and earns the
reputation of great boldness by teasing large hawks, while it gives a
wide berth to the little ones." Decidedly, this classifies him with
the English Sparrow. But we will hear Dr. Brewer: "The name, Kingbird,
is given it on the supposition that it is superior to all other birds
in the reckless courage with which it will maintain an unequal
warfare. My own observations lead me to the conclusion that writers
have somewhat exaggerated the quarrelsome disposition of this bird. I
have never, or very rarely, known it to molest or attack any other
birds than those which its own instinct prompts it to drive away in
self-defense, such as Hawks, Owls, Eagles, Crows, Jays, Cuckoos, and
Grackles." That Dr. Coues is a friend of the Kingbird, his language
amply proves: "The Kingbird is not quarrelsome--simply very lively.
He is the very picture of dash and daring in defending his home,
and when he is teaching his youngsters how to fly. He is one of
the best of neighbors, and a brave soldier. An officer of the guild
of Sky Sweepers, also a Ground Gleaner and Tree Trapper killing
robber-flies, ants, beetles, and rose-bugs. A good friend to horses
and cattle, because he kills the terrible gadflies. Eats a little
fruit, but chiefly wild varieties, and only now and then a bee." If
you now have any difficulty in making up your verdict, we will present
the testimony of one other witness, who is, we think, an original
observer, as well as a delightful writer, Bradford Torrey. He was in
the country. "Almost, I could have believed myself in Eden," he says.
"But, alas, even the birds themselves were long since shut out of that
garden of innocence, and as I started back toward the village a Crow
went hurrying past me, with a Kingbird in hot pursuit. The latter was
more fortunate than usual, or more plucky, actually alighting on the
Crow's back, and riding for some distance. I could not distinguish his
motions--he was too far away for that--but I wished him joy of his
victory, and grace to improve it to the full. For it is scandalous
that a bird of the Crow's cloth should be a thief; and so, although I
reckon him among my friends--in truth, _because_ I do so--I am always
able to ta