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136
My Studio Neighbors
·
W. Hamilton Gibson
15
Owing
to
the
onomatopoetic
quality
of
the
"kow,
kow,
kow!"
of
the
bird,
it
is
known
in
some
sections
as
the
"kow-bird,"
and
is
thus
confounded
with
the
real
cow-bird,
and
gets
the
credit
of
her
mischief,
even
as
in
other
parts
of
the
country,
under
the
correct
name
of
"cuckoo,"
it
bears
the
odium
of
its
foreign
relative.
For
though
we
have
no
disreputable
cuckoo,
ornithologically
speaking,
let
us
not
congratulate
ourselves
too
hastily.
We
have
his
counterpart
in
a
black
sheep
of
featherdom
which
vies
with
his
European
rival
in
deeds
of
cunning
and
cruelty,
and
which
has
not
even
a
song
to
recommend
him--no
vocal
accomplishment
which
by
the
greatest
of
license
could
prompt
a
poet
to
exclaim,
"I
hear
thee
and
rejoice,"
without
having
his
sanity
called
in
question.
The
cow-blackbird,
it
is
true,
executes
a
certain
guttural
performance
with
its
throat--though
apparently
emanating
from
a
gastric
source--which
some
ornithologists
dignify
by
the
name
of
"song."
But
it
is
safe
to
affirm
that
with
this
vocal
resource
alone
to
recommend
him
he
or
his
kind
would
scarcely
have
been
known
to
fame.
The
bird
has
yet
another
lay,
however,
which
has
made
it
notorious.
Where
is
the
nest
of
song-sparrow,
or
Maryland
yellow-throat,
or
yellow
warbler,
or
chippy,
that
is
safe
from
the
curse
of
the
cow-bird's
blighting
visit?
And
yet
how
few
of
us
have
ever
seen
the
bird
to
recognize
it,
unless
perchance
in
the
occasional
flock
clustering
about
the
noses
and
feet
of
browsing
kine
and
sheep,
or
perhaps
perched
upon
their
backs,
the
glossy
black
plumage
of
the
males
glistening
with
iridescent
sheen
in
the
sunshine.
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