cage hung up. He was satisfied with his first outing,
and refreshed himself with a nap at once. But the first thing the next
morning he came down to his door and pecked the wires, looking over at
me most intelligently, plainly asking to have it opened. He never
mistook the position of the door, and if knocking had not the desired
effect, he took hold of a wire and shook and rattled it till he was
attended to.

It was interesting to see how familiar he suddenly became, when no
effort had been made to induce him to be so. I never had so much trouble
to win the confidence of a bird, but when won, the surrender was
complete. He came up to me freely and allowed me to catch him in my hand
without resistance, which is very uncommon. (Perhaps I ought to say that
I do not try to tame my birds.) He displayed a child-like, confiding
disposition, both in his unreasoning terror at first, and his
unquestioning faith at last.

These investigations were conducted without a sound, for the bird was
entirely silent while awake. But there came a day when he made a curious
exhibition of his ability. It was the ninth of February, and the
goldfinch was calling, as he often did. The woodpecker sat on his perch
with wings held tightly against his sides, "humped" up as though he were
high-shouldered. The plumage of his breast was puffed out so broadly
that it came over the wings, and in a front view completely hid them,
while the feathers of his shoulders were erected till he resembled a
lady with a fur shoulder cape. Withal, his head was drawn down to his
body, and his beak pointed upward at an angle of forty-five degrees. In
this peculiar and absurd position he began a strange little song,
ludicrously weak and low for a bird of his size. The tones were
delivered in a sharp staccato style, like "picking" the strings of a
violin very softly, several notes uttered with queer sidewise jerks of
the head, and eyes apparently fixed on the goldfinch. After a phrase or
two he scraped his bill violently and then began again.

This performance he varied by bowing his head many times, swaying his
whole body from side to side, flirting his tail and shaking his wings.
It was an extraordinary display, but whether his manner of making
himself agreeable, or of expressing contempt, I could only guess. The
goldfinch looked on with interest, though I think he understood it no
better than I did; he seemed surprised, but rather pleased, for he
repeated his calls