life, yet no bird ever had more misgivings about taking the fatal
plunge. His first movement on leaving the cage was to go to the bath,
around which he hovered, now this side, now that, one moment on the
perch above, the next on the edge of the dish, plainly longing to be in,
yet the mere approach of the smallest bird in the room drove him away.
Not that he was afraid, he was not in the least a coward; he met
everybody and everything with the dignity and bravery of a true thrush.
Neither was it that he was disabled when wet, which makes some birds
hesitate; he was never at all disordered by his bath, and however long
he soaked, or thoroughly he spattered, his plumage remained in place and
he was perfectly able to fly at once. It appeared simply that he could
not make up his mind to go in. Then too, it soon became apparent that he
noticed his reflection in the water. He often stood on the edge after
bathing, as well as before, looking intently upon the image. Before the
glass he did the same, looking earnestly and in a low tone "uttering his
thoughts to the ideal bird which he fancied he saw before him." Indeed,
I think this ideal thrush was a great comfort to him.

Once having decided to go into the bath he enjoyed it exceedingly,
though in an unusual way, fluttering and splashing vigorously for a
moment, then standing motionless up to his body in the water, not
shaking or pluming himself, not alarmed, but quietly enjoying the
soaking. After several fits of splashing alternated with soaking, he
went to a perch and shook and plumed himself nearly dry, and just when
one would think he had entirely finished, he returned to the dish, and
began again--hesitating on the brink, coquetting with the "ideal thrush"
in the water, and in fact doing the whole thing over again.

My bird had a genuine thrush's love of quiet and dislike of a crowd,
preferred unfrequented places to alight on, and was quite ingenious in
finding them. The ornamental top of a gas-fixture a few inches below the
ceiling, which was cup-shaped and nearly hid him, was a favorite place.
So was also the loose edge of a hanging cardboard map which, having been
long rolled, hung out from the wall like a half-open scroll. This he
liked best, for no other bird ever approached it, and here he passed
much time swinging, as if he enjoyed the motion which he plainly made
efforts to keep up. His plan was to fly across the room and alight
suddenly upon it, when, of cours