ehavior is just the same on
seeing a man for the first time, as when they have seen him frequently.

[Illustration: THE OUZEL AT HOME.]

On the lower reaches of the rivers where mills are built, they sing on
through the din of the machinery, and all the noisy confusion of dogs,
cattle, and workmen. On one occasion, while a wood-chopper was at work
on the river-bank, I observed one cheerily singing within reach of the
flying chips. Nor does any kind of unwonted disturbance put him in bad
humor, or frighten him out of calm self-possession. In passing through a
narrow gorge, I once drove one ahead of me from rapid to rapid,
disturbing him four times in quick succession where he could not very
well fly past me on account of the narrowness of the channel. Most birds
under similar circumstances fancy themselves pursued, and become
suspiciously uneasy; but, instead of growing nervous about it, he made
his usual dippings, and sang one of his most tranquil strains. When
observed within a few yards their eyes are seen to express remarkable
gentleness and intelligence; but they seldom allow so near a view unless
one wears clothing of about the same color as the rocks and trees, and
knows how to sit still. On one occasion, while rambling along the shore
of a mountain lake, where the birds, at least those born that season,
had never seen a man, I sat down to rest on a large stone close to the
water's edge, upon which it seemed the ouzels and sandpipers were in the
habit of alighting when they came to feed on that part of the shore, and
some of the other birds also, when they came down to wash or drink. In a
few minutes, along came a whirring Ouzel and alighted on the stone
beside me, within reach of my hand. Then suddenly observing me, he
stooped nervously as if about to fly on the instant, but as I remained
as motionless as the stone, he gained confidence, and looked me steadily
in the face for about a minute, then flew quietly to the outlet and
began to sing. Next came a sandpiper and gazed at me with much the same
guileless expression of eye as the Ouzel. Lastly, down with a swoop came
a Steller's jay out of a fir-tree, probably with the intention of
moistening his noisy throat. But instead of sitting confidingly as my
other visitors had done, he rushed off at once, nearly tumbling heels
over head into the lake in his suspicious confusion, and with loud
screams roused the neighborhood.

Love for song-birds, with their sweet hum