This Oriole is one of the most brilliantly colored of our common birds. The name oriole is from “aureolus,” meaning, little bird in gold. Ruskin says that on the plumes of birds the gold of the cloud is put, that cannot be gathered of any covetousness.

There is a story to the effect that when, in 1628, Lord Baltimore was exploring the Chesapeake, worn out and discouraged, he was so much cheered by the sight and sound of the oriole that he adopted its colors as his own, hence the name, “Baltimore Oriole.”

This bird, however, rejoices in several other cognomens, such as English Robin, Golden Robin, Hang-nest Bird, Fire-Finch, and Golden Oriole. He is both esthetic and utilitarian, being beautiful, musical, social and also useful in that he feeds upon insects most injurious to vegetation; especially the harmful small kinds passed over unnoticed by the birds of other species.

The Baltimore Oriole is fond of sweets. He has been seen to snip off the heads of white-headed or stingless bees and draw out the viscera through the ring-like opening, for the sake of the honey sack. How did he know it was there? How did he learn that he could get at it in this way? The poet naturalist, Thompson, well says of him:

While the Oriole’s song is not especially melodious to me, it is fresh and cheerful, with something of a human element in its child-like whistle. Young birds in the nest cry “cree-te-te-te-te-te.”

This bird is fond of building near the habitations of men, selecting sites in door-yards, orchards, and lawns. He weaves an artistic habitation at airy heights, choosing strong, flexible material for the pendant, bag-like nest. In California, the Arizona hooded oriole weaves nests of the beautiful Spanish moss; but one occasionally uses the love-vine or yellow dodder to construct a gaudy, pocket-like nest. The Fire-bird would not do this, for it always selects for its nest grayish, bleached material in harmony with the limbs of the trees. An experiment was tried of placing a bunch of colored yarns near its nesting-place, in order to see what, if it used them, the choice of colors would be. It selected all the gray threads, and, when nearly done, a few blue and purple, but not a single red, or green or yellow strand. The strongest and best material is used for the part by which the whole is supported.

The Baltimore Oriole is sometimes on intimate terms with his relative, the Orchard Oriole. Last summer the latter had hung its pretty cup-shaped nest on a branch of weeping willow near my window. The tedium of her sitting was relieved several times by a morning call from Sir Baltimore. He would seat himself on a twig near her nest and utter a soft, clear note, which no doubt meant a greeting in bird language. When he went away a few moments later, his two notes sounded strangely like “A—dieu”—a translation for which Olive Thorn Miller is authority.

But his song and his speech were less heeded than the spectacle of his brilliant flight—