A TIRED TRAVELLER 101 



one redwing there were now two. One flew wildly 

 away at my approach to a distance of eighty or a 

 hundred yards before alighting again; the other 

 remained, and when I drew near it again moved on 

 its perch, a little alarmed as at first, flirting its wings 

 and tail and once uttering its call note; and then, 

 recovering from its fear, it began uttering little 

 chirps as before. Those tender little musical sounds, 

 reminiscent of vanished days in distant lands, were 

 somewhat sad, as if the bird complained at being 

 left alone. But his mate had not forsaken him after 

 all, or perhaps she had gone on with the others and 

 then returned to look for him at the last roosting-place. 

 Having found my bird, I determined to make the 

 most of our second meeting. I had never had an 

 opportunity of looking at a redwing so closely before 

 in such a favourable light, and, seeing it in that way, 

 I found it a more beautiful bird than I had thought 

 it. Perched at a height of above five feet, it was seen 

 against the pale sky in that soft sunlight, pale but 

 crystal clear, and its eyes and every delicate shade in 

 its colouring were distinctly visible. The upper parts 

 were olive-brown, as in the throstle, but the cream- 

 coloured band over the large dark eye made it very 

 unlike that bird; the dark spotted under-parts were 

 cream -white, tinged with buff, the flanks bright 

 chestnut-red. I could not have seen it better, nor so 

 well, if I had held it dead with glazed eyes in my hand; 

 but the dead bird, however brilliant in its colours it 

 may be, I cannot admire. It is beautiful nevertheless, 

 it may be said, because of the colour and the form. 



