's head, which bled
profusely.
One evening after dinner as we sat with French windows opened wide to
the warm evening air of late spring, puffing idly at our cigars, a
most beautiful bird song burst upon our ears--a song that made us
stare at one another in amazement; we had never heard its like before.
It might be described as a bird fantasia--the notes covered a wide
range of sounds and the effect was beautiful. Captain Ellis walked
quietly down the garden path and got close to the cherry tree from
which the trills and lilts continued to pour, but could see nothing.
Mlle. C---- said it was a chantresse (songster) but that did not give
us much idea of what it was like.
Every morning and evening after that, this indefatigable songster
made music for us (or rather for his mate, probably sitting on her
eggs) in the cherry tree on the other side of the wall. How we enjoyed
listening to it! Many a time we tried to locate the singer in his
leafy home, but in vain; the nearest we ever came to it was once when
we saw a branch shake as the bird hopped to another limb.
One morning the brilliant bursts of song were lacking, and we missed
them. Just before we left for the laboratory Mademoiselle C----
brought in a rat trap to show us, and there caught in it, was our
little shy singer with grey dappled breast, its head crushed by the
cruel steel spring.
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