E
arly each spring I watch for the return of a Phœbe bird, which usually gladdens my heart by his appearance about sundown of some bright day. He is alone, because, according to most authorities, he travels in advance of his mate; and when I ask with wonder, "Well Peter, where is Phœbe?" with a quick dip of his tail and an expressive twitter, he seems to say, "She will arrive on the next train."
For several years they have returned to the same nest beneath the roof of my veranda, each spring re-lining the inside and brightening the outside with green moss. They always raise two broods. They are very tame, and from year to year do not seem to forget their confidence of the previous summer, and will perch on the cedar tree close to the porch, or light on the rope of the hammock only a few feet away from me.
'ZIP'
I have so trained my cat, Zip, that she thinks it is as wicked to look at a bird as she does to climb on the table, and never does either. Peter and Phœbe seemed to know that they had nothing to fear from her; and, when sitting on the little white eggs, their bright eyes would peep over the nest at Zip, sitting or napping in the easy chair below. When the young birds arrived, the parents would fly back and forth feeding them, without showing any more fear of the cat than they did of me.
While busy in the house one day, my attention was attracted by a loud tapping at the window, and on looking up I saw Phœbe apparently in great distress. She would fly at the window, striking the glass with her bill, circle round, fly back again, and tap, as though trying to attract my attention. Upon my appearance at the door, she flew toward the nest and, pausing on the wing, as a Kingfisher will poise over the water when seeing a fish, uttered sharp cries, fluttering her wings all the while, and telling me in bird language of her trouble. There sat a cat on the chair just below the nest, but it was not Zip. She had taken no other cat into her confidence, hence her alarm. When I drove the strange cat away, she quieted down and administered to the wants of her family as usual.
This little incident seems to show that birds become so accustomed to their environments that they know each member of the family, even to the dog and cat, and that they possess a certain degree of reasoning power.