after he had received a portion, either on his own motion or on a hint
from the old one, he would give place to the one behind him. Still, one
bird evidently outstripped his fellows, and in the race of life was two
or three days in advance of them. His voice was loudest and his head
oftenest at the window. But I noticed that, when he had kept the
position too long, the others evidently made it uncomfortable in his
rear, and, after "fidgeting" about awhile, he would be compelled to
"back down." But retaliation was then easy, and I fear his mates spent
few easy moments at that lookout. They would close their eyes and slide
back into the cavity as if the world had suddenly lost all its charms
for them.

This bird was, of course, the first to leave the nest. For two days
before that event he kept his position in the opening most of the time
and sent forth his strong voice incessantly. The old ones abstained
from feeding him almost entirely, no doubt to encourage his exit. As I
stood looking at him one afternoon and noting his progress, he suddenly
reached a resolution,--seconded, I have no doubt, from the rear,--and
launched forth upon his untried wings. They served him well, and
carried him about fifty yards up-hill the first heat. The second day
after, the next in size and spirit left in the same manner; then
another, till only one remained. The parent birds ceased their visits
to him, and for one day he called and called till our ears were tired
of the sound. His was the faintest heart of all. Then he had none to
encourage him from behind. He left the nest and clung to the outer bole
of the tree, and yelped and piped for an hour longer; then he committed
himself to his wings and went his way like the rest.

A young farmer in the western part of New York, who has a sharp,
discriminating eye, sends me some interesting notes about a tame high-