The Cardinal at the Hub
BY ELLA GILBERT IVES
With Photographs from nature by Blanche Kendall
HIS range being southern, Cardinal Grosbeak seldom travels through New England; and, to my knowledge, has never established a home and reared a family north of Connecticut until in the instance here recorded. Kentuckians claim him, and with some show of right, since James Lane Allen built his monument in imperishable prose. But, soon or late, all notables come to Boston, and among them may now be registered the “ Kentucky Cardinal.”
Shy by nature, conspicuous in plumage, he shuns publicity; and, avoiding the main lines of travel, he put up at a quiet country house in a Boston suburb—Brookline.
Here, one October day in 1897, among the migrants stopping at this half-way house, appeared a distinguished guest, clad in red, with a black mask, a light red bill, and a striking crest; with him a bird so like him that they might have been called the two Dromios. After a few days, the double passed on and left our hero the only red-coat in the field. A White-throated Sparrow now arrived from the mountains, and a Damon and Pythias friendship sprang up between the birds. Having decided to winter at the North, they took lodgings in a spruce tree, and came regularly to the table d'hote on the porch. My lord Cardinal, being the more distinguished guest, met with particular favor, and soon became welcome at the homes of the neighborhood. With truly catholic taste, he refused creature comforts from none, but showed preference for his first abode.
It was March 5, 1898, when we kept our first appointment with the Cardinal. A light snow had fallen during the night, and the air was keen, without premonition of spring. It was a day for home-keeping birds, the earth larder being closed. The most delicate tact was required in presenting strangers. A loud, clear summons,—the Cardinal’s own whistle echoed by human lips—soon brought a response. Into the syringa bush near the porch flew, with a whir and a sharp tsip, a bird. How gorgeous he looked in the snow-laden shrub! For an instant the syringa blossoms loaded the air with fragrance as a dream of summer floated by. Then a call to the porch was met by several sallies and quick retreats, while the wary bird studied the newcomers. Reassuring tones from his gentle hostess, accompanied by the rattle of nuts and seeds, at last prevailed, and the cardinal flew to the railing and looked us over with keen, inquiring eye. Con-
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