This depredation I have never witnessed; but I have seen the Red Squirrel descend in this manner to devour the crysalis of a certain insect, which was rolled up in a leaf.
The ways and manners of the Golden Robin are very interesting. He is remarkable for his vivacity, and his bright plumage renders all his movements conspicuous. His plumage needs no description, since every one is familiar with its colors, as they are seen like flashes of fire among the trees. The bird derives its specific name (Baltimore) from the resemblance of its colors to the livery of Lord Baltimore of Maryland. The name of a bird ought to have either a sylvan or a poetic origin. This has neither. I prefer, therefore, the common and expressive name of Golden Robin.
This bird is supposed to possess considerable power of musical imitation. Still it may be observed that in all cases he gives the notes of those birds only whose voice resembles his own. Thus, he often repeats the song of the Red-bird, but in doing this he varies his own notes no more than he might do without meaning any imitation. Though he repeats but few notes, he utters them with great variety of modulation. Sometimes for several days he confines himself to a single strain, and afterwards for about an equal space of time he will adopt another strain. Sometimes he lengthens his brief notes into an extended melody, and sings in a sort of ecstasy, like the birds of the Finch tribe. Such musical paroxysms are exceedingly rare in his case, and seem to be occasioned by some momentary exultation.
The Golden Robin rears but one brood of young in this part of the country, and his cheerful notes are discontinued soon after the young have left their nest. The song of the old bird seems after this period hardly necessary to the offspring, who keep up an incessant chirping from the moment of leaving their nest until they are able to accompany the old ones to the woods, whither they retire in the latter part of the season. It is remarkable, that, after a perfect silence of two or three weeks after this time, the Golden Robins suddenly make their appearance again for a few days, uttering the same merry notes with which they hailed the arrival of summer. They soon disappear again, and before autumn arrives they make their annual journey to the South, where they pass the winter.
There is no singing-bird in New England that enjoys the notoriety of the Bobolink (Icterus agripennis). He is like a rare wit in our social or political circles. Everybody is talking about him and quoting his remarks, and all are delighted with his company. He is not without great merits as a songster; but he is well known and admired, because he is showy, noisy, and flippant, and sings only in the open field, and frequently while poised on the wing, so that everybody who hears him can see him, and know who is the author of the strains that afford him so much delight. He sings also at broad noonday, when everybody is out, and is seldom heard before sunrise, while other birds are pouring forth their souls in a united concert of praise. He waits until the sun is up, and when most of the early performers have become silent, as if determined to secure a good audience before exhibiting his powers.
The Bobolink, or Conquedle, has unquestionably great talents as a musician. In the grand concert of Nature it is he who performs the recitative parts, which he delivers with the utmost fluency and rapidity; and one must be a careful listener, not to lose many of his words. He is plainly the merriest of all the feathered creation, almost continually in motion, and singing upon the wing, apparently in the greatest ecstasy of joy.
There is not a plaintive strain in his whole performance. Every sound is as merry as the laugh of a young child; and one cannot listen to him without fancying that he is indulging in some jocose raillery of his companions. If we suppose him to be making love, we cannot look upon him as very deeply enamored, but
