52 WAKE-ROBIN 



by Wilson. It is a singular fact that the plumage 

 of these owls presents two totally distinct phases, 

 which "have no relation to sex, age, or season," 

 one being an ashen gray, the other a bright rufous. 



Coming to a drier and less mossy place in the 

 woods, I am amused with the golden- crowned thrush, 

 — which, however, is no thrush at all, but a war- 

 bler. He walks on the ground ahead of me with 

 such an easy gliding motion, and with such an 

 unconscious, preoccupied air, jerking his head like 

 a hen or a partridge, now hurrying, now slackening 

 his pace, that I pause to observe him. I sit down, 

 he pauses to observe me, and extends his pretty 

 ramblings on all sides, apparently very much en- 

 grossed with his own affairs, but never losing sight 

 of me. But few of the birds are walkers, most 

 being hoppers, like the robin. 



Satisfied that I have no hostile intentions, the 

 pretty pedestrian mounts a limb a few feet from the 

 ground, and gives me the benefit of one of his musi- 

 cal performances, a sort of accelerating chant. Com- 

 mencing in a very low key, which makes him seem 

 at a very uncertain distance, he grows louder and 

 louder till his body quakes and his chant runs into 

 a shriek, ringing in my ear with a peculiar sharp- 

 ness. This lay may be represented thus: "Teacher, 

 teacher, teacher, TEACHER, TEACHER!'' — 

 the accent on the first syllable and each word uttered 

 with increased force and shrillness. No writer with 

 whom I am acquainted gives him credit for more 

 musical ability than is displayed in this strain. 



