396 NESTS AND EGGS OF 



As the dew-drops on the drooping branches glistened like jewels 

 in the bright sunlight of that glorious dawn, I harkened to the de- 

 lightful strain, and a soft melancholy stole o'er me, as Nature bade him 

 sing Her sweetest songs. He sat on a bough with his brown and 

 speckled plumage ruffled ; his wings and tail drooping, but his head was 

 turned heavenward, and, as his throat swelled, the wild, artless har- 

 mony of this great minstrel's song echoed and re-echoed throughout 

 the woodland. He was a rustic musician, and extravagant with his 

 powers. At first I thought his notes were the rustling of leaves, until 

 he burst forth with the lively chatter of the House Wren ; then came 

 the soft, plaintive notes of the Bluebird, followed by the loud ker-ker- 

 ker of the Red-headed Woodpecker, and the hurried clucking of the 

 Golden-wing ; again and again he repeated the mellow piping of the 

 Kildeer Plover, which it utters as it settles down on a pebbly shore. 

 Sometimes his voice would die away into a liquid tone like the mur- 

 muring of a fountain, when suddenly he would break forth again into 

 the loud voice of the Robin or the harsh notes of the Kingfisher. 



o 



The songs of all the birds of the woods seemed to be within the 

 range of his vocal powers. Even the subdued accents of the nuthatch 

 as it climbs about the trunk of a tree were distinctly uttered, and the 

 loud, musical song of the Tufted Titmouse came from his throat clear 

 and strong. The singular reverberating song of the Swamp Black- 

 bird seemed to be one of his favorite melodies, often repeating it and 

 interluding it with his sweet ventriloquil strains that sounded like the 

 trill of rippling waters. All of these, and the flute-like notes of the 

 Meadow Lark, which seemed to come a great distance across the mead- 

 ows, will never be effaced from my memory, and as each spring returns 

 I long for the woods where I can hear again his matchless voice. 



The Brown Thrasher usually occupies a lofty position while sing- 

 ing ; morning and evening are the chosen hours for this exercise. 



It is a shy, active bird and when inhabiting woods it generally 

 retires to the most secluded parts. It loves the security of dense 

 thickets and the solitude of deep swamps; at times several of them 

 may be seen running along the fences catching insects, now and then 

 darting into bushy hedges or brush heaps to elude observation ; every 

 movement is accompanied by a graceful switch of the tail, and when 

 an intruder approaches near its nesting place he is greeted with the 

 familiar alarm note, chuck, chuck. In August its food consists largely 

 of wild berries of which the young seem to be particularly fond. 



Quite a number of these birds confined in cages have come under 

 my observation, and strange to say they never uttered a note^of song. 



