"Why, I was so interested that I forgot! Isn't it fine to find out all about such wonderful things that are about us all the time without our eyes ever seeing!" exclaimed Nita.
"Perhaps that is what is meant when the Bible speaks of 'eyes have ye and ye see not,' and in another place something about our eyes being holden so that we do not see the beauties of Spirit," said Miss Miller.
"I know that my eyes have beheld more beauty in nature since we came here than I ever dreamed was in the world," said Elena, gratefully.
"I haven't decided on a beautiful bird so much as the fact that we have heard many of them about our camp—I mean the catbird. I see a description in this book so I will read it," said Nita.
"The catbird can be found as far north as southern Canada, and in the winters south as far as Florida. It is nine inches in length, and smaller than a robin. The upper parts are slate coloured shading into black on brown and tail. Under parts are slaty grey, with warm brown patch under the tail.
"Its nest is hidden in thick bushes and is built of twigs, grasses and leaves. The five or six eggs are of a beautiful green and the parents utter their distressed call whenever a hostile bird or animal approaches its young."
"Nita's description is correct, but I must admit that I haven't any real incident of a catbird to tell you," said Miss Miller. "A few details omitted by Nita, I can supply however. He is sleek and well-groomed, being very proud of his appearance. After he is satisfied with his toilet, he will swing on an alder and pipe his low and melodious note. But how different his tone, should you approach the nest while his mate is watching a brood of young. Then they will give a spiteful and shrill call that is almost rasping on sensitive nerves.
"The catbird is a clever imitator and many a woodsman has been misled by thinking he was on the trail of a bird he much hoped to secure, or watch. Suddenly, when he nears the place where he heard the note of the rare bird, the disappointed human will hear the catbird give a mocking laugh. It also mews like a cat, so naturally that it derives its name from the habit. I may add that Woodcraft Indians should offer an honour to every catbird that overcomes the disagreeable habit of hoarse mewing. I have heard that a catbird has imitated perfectly a strain of 'Yankee Doodle' and other music. Sometimes, one will become tame and live in the home of its human friends, in this way learning to utter sounds peculiar to mortals. One catbird is said to have cried so naturally like the baby of the house that the mother never could tell which it was—baby or bird."
"I think I'll choose a wren for my bird—they are so small and busy all day long," said Hilda.