SHARP-WITTED ROBINS.
Detroit, Michigan.
Dear Jack-In-The-Pulpit: Z.R.B's anecdote, "A Congress of Birds," in the July number, reminds me of an incident of which I was an eye-witness:
A cherry-tree grew near the house, and was yearly full of luscious cherries; but the robins scarcely allowed us to have one that did not have their monogram picked in it. One year, however, my brother determined to outwit the birds, and hung a large stuffed eagle from one of the boughs. The birds assembled on a neighboring tree and eyed the eagle sharply, while a grand consultation was held. Finally, a courageous robin darted from the tree, swooped directly under the eagle, and flew triumphantly back to tell the rest there was nothing to be feared. At once the whole flock of robins flew to the cherry-tree, and our hopes of a cherry-pie were doomed to disappointment for that year.
H.P.B.