whom the pen of nearly every writer is
lifted, let me quote from one of our early and most careful observers,
William Bartram: "The jay is one of the most useful agents in the
economy of nature for disseminating forest trees and other ruciferous
and hard-seeded vegetables on which they feed. These birds alone are
capable in a few years' time to replant all the cleared lands." Thoreau,
who was perhaps the closest of our modern students of nature, cites this
passage and emphatically affirms its justice.

THE BLUE-JAY AGAIN.

As for birds, I do not believe there is one of them but does more good
than harm; and of how many featherless bipeds can this be said?

LOWELL.

XI.

THE BLUE-JAY AGAIN.

The blue-jay came out of the egg with his mind made up. He always knew
exactly what he wanted, and never doubted that he knew how to get it. I
wrote of this bird some time ago, but he was then a comparatively new
acquaintance. He lived with us many months after that, and became much
more familiar; for besides being slow to feel thoroughly at home, he was
very young, and he grew in wisdom with age. So I have more to say of
him.

Human society was necessary to the jay; he cared for the other birds of
the room only as objects on which to play tricks for his own amusement.
He was peculiar, too, in never liking more than one friend at a time,
and was very decided in his opinions of people, having a distinctly
different reception for each one of the household, as well as for
strangers. His mistress was always his prime favorite; and although
during my absence from home he adopted some one temporarily in my
place, he was never so affectionate to that one as to me, and the
instant I returned resumed his old relations to each of us.

To his best beloved this bird never squawked or whistled; on the
contrary, he talked in low, sweet tones, hardly more than a murmur,
slightly lifting and quivering his wings, sidling as near as he could
get, and if I put my face down to him touching my cheek or lips gently
with his beak, in little taps, like kisses. Any one else in that
position would receive a violent peck. Sometimes, when I was busy, and
therefore silent a long time, and the jay was in his cage, where I was
obliged to put him in order to work at all, he stood perfectly quiet and
motionless an hour at a time, moving only when he was hungry, and
apparently watching me every instant,--a performance very uncommon in a
bird