These three
were babies; their actions betrayed them; for a little later, when one
of the elders flew from the field to a low peach-tree, instantly there
arose the baby-cry "ya-a-a-a!" and those three sedate looking personages
on the wire arose as one bird, and flew to the tree, alighting almost on
the mother, so eager were they to be fed. In a moment she flew to the
fence, where all three followed her. When she escaped from their
importunities she came much nearer to me, doubtless to see if I needed
watching, and I had a closer look than I had succeeded in getting
before, and satisfied myself on a point or two of marking.

Up to this time my searching into the name and identity of my little
strangers in gray had been in vain. But a direful suspicion was growing
within me. That heavy black line from the eye! The strongly marked
wings! I turned with dread to a family I had not thought of trying--the
shrikes. There were the markings, too true! But that delicate blue-gray
was not "slate color." Still, people see colors differently, and in
every other way the description was perfect. They must be--my beautiful,
graceful, attractive strangers must be--butcher-birds!

Dreadful discovery! I must at once know all about them; whether they
deserve the name and the reputation. I flew to my books.

"The character of the butcher-bird," says Wilson, "is entitled to no
common degree of respect. His courage and intrepidity are beyond every
other bird of his size, and in affection for his young he is surpassed
by no other. He attacks the largest hawk or eagle in their defense with
a resolution truly astonishing, so that all of them respect him;" and,
further, "He is valued in Carolina and Georgia for the destruction of
mice. He sits on the fence and watches the stacks of rice, and darts
upon them, also destroying grasshoppers and crickets."

So said Wilson, but subsequent writers have said terrible things about
him: that he catches small birds and impales them on thorns; that he
delights in killing more than he can eat. Could these things be true?
Where, then, was the larder of this family? Such a curious and wonderful
place I must see. I resolved to devote myself to discovering the secrets
of this innocent looking family in gray.

[Sidenote: _A THORNY MONSTER._]

The nest where they had first seen the light was in a low spruce-tree
beside a constantly used gate, not more than eight feet from the ground,
and across the road was a