such exclusive westerners
as their ebon-hued cousins just described; for I found them breeding at
Lake Minnetonka, near Minneapolis, Minnesota, a few years ago, and they
sometimes straggle, I believe, as far east as Ohio. A most beautiful
bird is this member of the _Icteridae_ family, a kind of Beau Brummel
among his fellows, with his glossy black coat and rich yellow--and even
orange, in highest feather--mantle covering the whole head, neck, and
breast, and a large white, decorative spot on the wings, showing plainly
in flight. He is the handsomest blackbird with which I am acquainted.

At the time of my visit to the lake, the latter part of June, the
yellow-heads were busy feeding their young, many of which had already
left the nest. From the shore, I could see dozens of them clinging to
the reeds, several of which they would grasp with the claws of each
foot, their little legs straddled far apart, the flexile rushes
spreading out beneath their weight. There the youngsters perched,
without seeming to feel any discomfort from their strained position. And
what a racket they made when the parent birds returned from an excursion
to distant meadows and lawns, with bill-some tidbits! They were
certainly a hungry lot of bairns. When I waded out into the shallow
water toward their rushy home, the old birds became quite uneasy,
circling about above me like the red-wings, and uttering a harsh
blackbird "chack," varied at intervals by a loud, and not unmusical,
chirp.

[Illustration: _Yellow-Headed Blackbirds_

"_There the youngsters perched_"]

You should see the nest of the yellow-head. It is really a fine
structure, showing no small amount of artistic skill--a plaited cup,
looking almost as if it had been woven by human hands, the rushes of the
rim and sides folding the supporting reeds in their loops. Thus the nest
and its reedy pillars are firmly bound together. I waded out to a clump
of rushes and found one nest with three eggs in its softly felted
cup--the promise, no doubt, of a belated, or possibly a second, brood.

This mountain lake was also the abode of a number of species of ducks,
not all of which could be identified, on account of the distance they
constantly put between themselves and the observer. Flocks of them
floated like light, feathered craft upon the silvery bosom of the lake,
now pursuing one another, now drifting lazily, now diving, and anon
playing many attractive gambols.

One of the most curiou