ength, which was certainly the most
interesting bird-talk I ever heard. When they could not see me they
indulged in it more freely, with changing tones at different times, and
after they became accustomed to the room and its inhabitants it was
neither so frequent nor so earnest. Often at night, when one--perhaps in
a dream--fell off the perch, I heard much low, tender talk, almost in a
whisper, before all was quiet again; and when another bird flew wildly
around the room, there was always a remark or two in an interested tone.
The male did most of the talking, carrying on, often for a long time, a
constant flow of what sounded marvelously like comments and criticisms,
while his mate replied occasionally with the usual call. Certain notes
plainly had a specific meaning, even to the others in the room. One in
particular was peculiar and low, but upon its utterance every bird
became instantly silent and looked at the cage, while the bluebirds
themselves were so absorbed, gazing apparently into blank space, that I
could easily put my hands on them before they observed me. For several
minutes this low note would be repeated, and all the birds stare at
nothing, till I began to feel almost uncomfortable, as I have done at
similar staring at nothing on the part of animals. One can hardly resist
the feeling that these creatures can see something invisible to our
eyes. On one occasion, when the male uttered this note, the female was
just about to eat; she stood as if petrified, with head halfway down to
the food, for two or three minutes.

What I have called talk was a very low twitter in a conversational tone,
on one note, not at all in a singing tone, like the usual warble or
call. I have also heard it from wild bluebirds, when I could get near
enough. From the first, as said above, the male did most of the talking,
and the habit grew upon him, till he became a regular babbler, standing
on the top perch, and keeping it up persistently all day long. I think
it arose from the fact that the greater number of birds in the room were
thrushes, who sang very softly, without opening the mouth. With this
gentle ripple of song the bluebird's voice harmonized perfectly, and he
almost entirely discontinued his lovely song, while indulging himself in
talk by the hour. Strange to say, I soon noticed that his mate did not
approve of it, and would not stand on the perch beside him while he
continued it. At first she turned sharply towards him,