BIRDS AND ALL NATURE: May 1899
THE CEDAR WAXWING (Ampelis cedrorum)
By LYNDS JONES
And "The Preacher-Bird"
By JENNY TERRILL RUPRECHT
Page 2 of 2


Thus, an outbreak of any insect pest calls the waxwings in large flocks which destroy great numbers to the almost entire exclusion of fruit as a diet for the time. It cannot be denied that the waxwings do sometimes destroy not a little early fruit, calling down upon them righteous indignation; but at other times they more than make amends for the mischief done.

Of the voice Mr. A. W. Butler says, "They have a peculiar lisping note, uttered in a monotone varying in pitch.

     

As they sit among the branches of an early Richmond cherry tree in early June, the note seems to be inhaled, and reminds me of a small boy who, when eating juicy fruit, makes a noise by inhalation in endeavoring to prevent the loss of the juice and then exclaims, 'How good!' As the birds start to fly, each repeats the note three or four times. These notes develop into a song as the summer comes on; a lisping, peculiar song that tells that the flocks are resolving into pairs as the duties of the season press upon them." After the pairing season there is a great show of affection between the two birds, which often continues long after the nesting season has closed.






THE PREACHER-BIRD.
(Red-eyed Vireo.)


JENNY TERRILL RUPRECHT.


LISTEN near a grove of elms or maples. and you will not fail to hear its song, a somewhat broken, rambling recitative, which no one has so well described as Wilson Flagg, who calls this bird the preacher, and interprets its notes as "You see it! You know it! Do you hear me? Do you believe it?" — Chapman's Bird-Life.

Apostle of the grove across the way,
     Surpliced in color of the foliage,
I list enchanted to thy sermon-lay,
     As if it were the wisdom of a sage;
"You see it! You know it! Do you hear
               me? Do you believe it?"
     Ah! thou wouldst quicken memory
               to-day.

Nor morning's chill, nor noon-tide's
               languorous heat,
     Doth hold thy voice in thrall, O,
               preacher fair;
     
Perched on the greenest bough, thy
               message sweet
     Thou pourest out upon the vibrant air,
You see it! You know it! Do you hear
               me? Do you believe it?"
     Over and over in a swift repeat.

Apostle of the grove! Thy song
               divine
     The God of Nature gave thee note
               by note,
To gladder, fuller make the message
               thine,
Rippling in beauty from thy dainty
               throat.
"You see it! You know it! Do you hear
               me? Do you believe it?"
     Would that apostleship so sweet
               were mine!


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