nd
look to her ornithological squatters; so, day after day I turned my
horse toward the ranch and spent the morning getting acquainted with my
tenants, riding along the shady line and making friendly calls at each
tree.

Half of the blackbirds who worked in the vineyard must have been
beholden to me for rent, I should judge by the jolly choruses of the
sable hordes moving about my treetops. There was a bee's nest in one of
the sycamores, and one day the buzzing mob 'took after me' so madly that
I had to whip up Canello and beat about with my hat to get clear of
them.

[Illustration: ALONG THE LINE OF SYCAMORES]

Another day, when we stopped under a sycamore, such a loud shrill
whistle sounded suddenly overhead that the horse started. A big bird in
black sat with feathers bristled up about him like a threatening raven,
croaking away sepulchrally directly overhead, bending down gazing at us
out of his yellow eyes as if to see how we took it. It was a laughable
sight. Blackbirds seem such human, humorous birds one can almost fancy
them playing such pranks just for the fun of it.

The blackbird colony was a busy one nesting-time. The builders would fly
down to the road to get material, stepping along quickly, looking from
side to side with an alert, business-like air, as if they knew just what
they wanted. Some of them used the button-balls to line their nests.

A pair had built in one of the round mats of mistletoe at the end of a
branch, and while looking at the nest one day I was amazed to see a
butcherbird come flying in a straight line toward it. He did not reach
his destination, for while still in air both blackbirds darted down at
him and drove him back faster than he had come. The guardian of the nest
escorted him almost home, and when the victorious pair were returning
they were joined by a noisy band of indignant members of the blackbird
clan.

I watched this attack with great interest, not knowing that shrikes were
concerned in blackbird matters, and also because it was welcome news
that one of these strange characters had rented a lot of me. I made a
note of the direction my outlaw tenant took when driven ignominiously
home, and at my earliest convenience called. Such cruel tales are told
of his cold-blooded way of impaling birds and beasts upon thorns and
barbed wires that one naturally looks upon him as a monster; but I found
that he, like many another villain, turns a gentle face to his nest.

He had