when
he turned and flew back to his own tree beside me. I was pleased to
notice that the voice of this talkative dovekin was of the same quality
as the "whistling" said to be of the wings, when a dove flies.

The last interview I had with the dear baby, I found him sitting with
his back toward me, but the instant I whistled he turned around to face
me, and seated himself again. He replied to me, and fluttered his wings
slightly, yet he soon became restless, as usual. He did not fly,
however, and he answered louder than he had done previously, but I found
that my call must be just right to elicit a response. I might whistle
all day and he would pay no attention, till I uttered a two-note call,
the second note a third above the first and the two slurred together. I
was delighted to find that even a dove, and a baby at that, could "talk
back." He was unique in other ways; for example, in being content to
pass his days in, and around, his own tree. I do not believe he had ever
been farther than a small group of cedars, ten feet from his own. I
always found him there, though he could fly perfectly well. This
interview was, I regret to say, the last; the next morning my little
friend was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps mamma thought he was getting too
friendly with one of a race capable of eating a baby dove.

After this episode in my dove acquaintance, I was more than ever
interested in getting at the mode of expression in the family, and I
listened on every occasion. One day two doves alighted over my head when
I was sitting perfectly still, and I distinctly heard very low talk,
like that of my lost baby; there was, in addition, a note or two like
the coo, but exceedingly low. I could not have heard a sound ten feet
from the tree, nor if I had been stirring myself. I observed also that a
dove can fly in perfect silence; and, moreover, that the whistle of the
wings sometimes continues after the bird has become still. I heard the
regular coo--the whole four-note performance--both in a whisper and in
the ordinary tone, and the latter, though right over my head, sounded a
mile away. At the end of my month's study I was convinced that the dove
is far from being a silent bird; on the contrary, he is quite a talker,
with the "low, sweet voice" so much desired in other quarters. And
further, that the whistling is not produced wholly (if at all) by the
wings, and it is a gross injustice to assert that he is not capable of
expressing h