ped about aimlessly, or to pass away time. He
had not only a beautiful repose of manner, but there was an air of
reticence in everything he did. Even in so trivial a matter as eating,
he was peculiar. During the season he was always supplied with
huckleberries, of which he was exceedingly fond. Any other bird would
take his stand beside the dish, and eat till he was satisfied; but
quite otherwise did the clarin. He went deliberately to the floor where
they were, took one berry daintily in the tip of his beak, returned with
it to the upper perch, fixed his eyes upon me, and suddenly, without a
movement, let it slip down his throat, his eyes still upon me, with the
most comically solemn expression of "Who says I swallowed a berry?" Then
he stood with an air of defiant innocence, as if it were a crime to eat
berries, not wiping his bill nor moving a feather till he wanted another
berry, when he ate it in exactly the same way.
[Sidenote: _AT THE MIRROR._]
The clarin defended himself against imposition, but, except to his own
reflection in the glass, he never showed warlike inclinations. Upon his
first sight of himself he was much excited. His feathers rose,
especially on the back, where they looked like a hump; his beak pointed
toward the offensive stranger, he uttered a peculiar new war-cry and
then flung himself violently upon the enemy. Of course he brought up
against the glass, and dropped panting to the bureau. In a moment he
rallied, poured out a few unfamiliar notes in a loud strange voice, with
wings quivering, body swaying from side to side, and tail wide spread.
Then lifting both wings high above his back, he repeated the attack.
Finding himself a second time baffled, he remained where he had dropped,
silent, a picture of despair.
I hastened to end his trouble by covering the glass. He flew several
times around the room, then alighted, reduced the inmates to meek
silence by his mysterious calls, then flew to his own cage, retired to
the upper perch, and remained quiet and motionless for an hour or more;
apparently meditating upon the strange occurrence, and wondering how the
elusive stranger had disappeared. During his trouble before the glass,
all the birds in the room were excited; they always were close observers
of everything he did, and never seemed to regard him as one of
themselves.
In the spring, when the room was emptied of all its tenants excepting
two or three who could not be set free, the clar
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