The Great Northern Shrike reaches the city from its habitat beyond the Canada line about the first of November. For four years in succession I saw my first Northern Shrike of the season on November first, a day set down in the Church Calendar for the commemoration of “All Saints.” It is eminently in keeping with the hypocritical character of Mr. Shrike, sinner that he is, to put in an appearance on so holy a day. From the time of his coming until late March and sometimes well into April, the shrike remains an urban resident and harries the sparrow tribe to its heart’s content. As far as my own observation goes the Great Northern Shrike in winter does not put very much food in cold storage. I have never seen many victims of the bird’s rapacity impaled upon thorns. Perhaps I should qualify this statement a bit by saying that I have never seen many victims hanging up in one place. I have watched carefully something like a score of the birds, and while every one occasionally hung up one of its victims, there was nothing approaching the “general storehouse” of food, so often described. It is my belief that this habit of impaling its prey upon thorns or of hanging it by the neck in a crotch is one that is confined largely to the summer season, and especially to the nesting period. The Great Northern Shrike has been said by some writers to be a bully as well as a butcher. I have never seen any evidence of this trait in his character. He does not seem to care for what some small human souls consider the delight of cowing weaker vessels. When the shrike gives chase to its feathered quarry it gives chase for the sole purpose of obtaining food. While the bird is not a bully in the sense in which I have written, it displays at times the cruelty of a fiend. It has apparently something of the cat in its nature. It delights to play with its prey after it has been seized, and by one swift stroke reduce it to a state of helplessness.