The clarin defended himself against imposition, but, except to his own
reflection in the glass, he never showed warlike inclinations. Upon his
first sight of himself he was much excited. His feathers rose,
especially on the back, where they looked like a hump; his beak pointed
toward the offensive stranger, he uttered a peculiar new war-cry and
then flung himself violently upon the enemy. Of course he brought up
against the glass, and dropped panting to the bureau. In a moment he
rallied, poured out a few unfamiliar notes in a loud strange voice, with
wings quivering, body swaying from side to side, and tail wide spread.
Then lifting both wings high above his back, he repeated the attack.
Finding himself a second time baffled, he remained where he had dropped,
silent, a picture of despair.
I hastened to end his trouble by covering the glass. He flew several
times around the room, then alighted, reduced the inmates to meek
silence by his mysterious calls, then flew to his own cage, retired to
the upper perch, and remained quiet and motionless for an hour or more;
apparently meditating upon the strange occurrence, and wondering how the
elusive stranger had disappeared. During his trouble before the glass,
all the birds in the room were excited; they always were close observers
of everything he did, and never seemed to regard him as one of
themselves.
In the spring, when the room was emptied of all its tenants excepting
two or three who could not be set free, the clarin was a very happy
bird. He flew freely and joyously about, delighting especially in
sweeping just over my head as if he intended to alight, and he sang
hours at a time. The only disturbance he had then--the crumpled roseleaf
in his lot--was the presence of a saucy blue jay, a new-comer whom he
could neither impress by his manner nor silence by his potent calls. So
far from that, the jay plainly determined to outshriek him; and when no
one was present to impose restraint on the naughty blue-coat (who, as a
stranger, was for a time quite modest), he overpowered every effort of
his beautiful _vis-à-vis_ by whistles and squawks and cat-calls of the
loudest and most plebeian sort. At the first sound of this vulgar tirade
the imperial bird was silent, scorning to use his exquisite voice in so
low company; while the jay, in no whit abashed, filled the room with the
uproar till some one entered, when he instantly ceased.
[Sidenote: _WRAPPED IN FUSS._]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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