the lead and precede me to the mouse abode. This he did without hesitation, arriving first by about 15 feet, and stood quietly by the table patiently waiting. I purposely took my time about getting a mouse for him in order to see what he would do. He looked up at me as if to divine my intentions. He was given a large white mouse. It was so large that its tail stuck out from his bill for a few seconds like a cigar. While at this stage of its consumption Rhody jumped up to the low window sill for his, now usual, glance at himself in the glass. At 3 P.M. Rhody, who had been spending most of the time in his acacia and on the ground near the cage waiting for worms to be tossed to him, began edging off toward the shop-yard. When I followed he halted, then kept pace with me. At the gate we both stopped, but Rhody, this time, waited for me to go first. He accepted instantly the first mouse offered: a large white one. This downed, he jumped to the sill for a swift glance at his reflection. At the present time Rhody has no special interest in the opposite sex--it is too late in the season. Nor, presumably, like Brownie, is there any particular reason why he should defend territory at this season. As a consequence there is no incentive for him to indulge in his mirror dance in so far as it represents the arousing of combative instincts in the presence of a stranger, nor his presentation of prey and nesting material at the mirror as a part of his reproductive cycle. Therefore he does not seek out the mirror any more. The tool-house window, however, is only about a foot above the ground and 3 or 4 feet from where he usually stands while disposing of a mouse. It is not a good mirror--the background is not dark enough and the glass is wavy. But, no matter where he stands, he can always see some sort of a reflection in it, though not necessarily of himself, dimly. Any motion whatever on his part causes something to appear to move in the window, hence he investigates this mystery. But, when he has his eyes close to the pane, this moving thing is gone and there is nothing but the dim interior of the tool house and the shrubbery outside the window in the opposite wall. There is no bird to chase away and none to court. His present attention to this window, therefore, is casual and accidental. Similarly, in the case of automobiles, he probably sees ill defined objects moving about on the polished surfaces and these arouse his curiosity. September 5th. 9:30 A.M. Thrasher song was heard early in the morning and at 8:30 was almost continuous from a point near the west window of the living room. (It is still continuing). The singer was located about 30 feet from the window in an oak. I could not recognize the song as Brownie's. It was rather high pitched and all but three phrases were unfamiliar. Its general character was staccato and imperative. The singer paid no attention to me, yet, as later shown, it was Brownie. Thrasher voices, apparently in reply, were heard from the west, north-west, north and north-east. Some of them seemed to be exact duplicates of B's efforts, others not. It was perhaps 20 minutes before I realized that some of them were merely echoes of B and confirmed that fact. Since this time last year a dozen or so houses have been built or started in the territory from which the echoes came. Roughly they are a hundred or so yards apart and from 100 to 300 yards from where I stood, placed at varying angles to the points