Identifier: birdlore101908nati (find matches)
Title: Bird lore
Year: 1899 (1890s)
Authors: National Committee of the Audubon Societies of America National Association of Audubon Societies for the Protection of Wild Birds and Animals National Audubon Society
Subjects: Birds Birds Ornithology
Publisher: New York City : Macmillan Co.
Contributing Library: Smithsonian Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Biodiversity Heritage Library

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ties where enemies abound, the young leave the nest at the endof ten or twelve days, and conceal themselves in the underbrush until able tofly. At this period, they are much like the parents in color, but do not have theyellow iris, this coming about the time of the August molt. Usually, two broodsare reared during the season, which, beginning in early May, continues untilwell into July. While the young are in the nest, the parents generally are verybrave, flying at and, sometimes, hitting the intruder, and they look fierce enoughwith their staring yellow eyes and sharp curving bills, to frighten away many smallboys who would, otherwise, rob their homes. Nuttall says: One of the parents,usually the male, seems almost continually occupied in guarding against anydangerous intruder. The appearance of the human intruder is heralded bythe whistled Wheeu, which is followed by the loud kissing note if the personcontinues to advance. If an enemy gets close to some nests, the owners seem (103)
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i. Nest and eggs of Brown Thrasher. 4. Brown Thrasher, twelve days old. 2. Brown Thrasher on nest. 5. A tame Brown Thrasher. 3. Brown Thrasher, nine days old. 6. Brown Thrasher on nest. 7. Young (seven days old) and parentPhotographed by Christina J. Heil (104) The Brown Thrasher 105 to lose all timidity, and, uttering their peculiar, hoarse cry, which sounds to memore like the sharp tearing of a piece of stout cloth than anything else, fly fiercelyat him. I have had the skin of my hand broken by their sharp bills when exam-ining nests containing young. This attack is conducted with such pathetic des-peration and is so touching that it makes me feel heartily ashamed of myself(when I am its object) and I oftimes beat a hasty retreat. Much has been said and written in praise of the Brown Thrashers song.Perched in some tree—tall or short, it matters not to him so long as he canstand among its topmost branches—he pours forth his medley. I must, to beentirely candid, confess that I do

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