AN OWL'S HEAD HOLIDAY. 271 



to notice that it was the father-bird who man- 

 ifested the deepest concern and the readiest 

 wit, not to say the greatest courage ; but I am 

 obliged in candor to acknowledge that this fea/- 

 ture of the case surprised me not a little. 



In what language shall I speak of the song of 

 these familiar myrtle warblers, so that my praise 

 may correspond in some degree with the gracious 

 and beautiful simplicity of the strain itself ? 

 For music to be heard constantly, right under 

 one's window, it could scarcely be improved ; 

 sweet, brief, and remarkably unobtrusive, with- 

 out sharpness or emphasis ; a trill not altogether 

 unlike the pine-creeping warbler's, but less mat- 

 ter-of-fact and business-like. I used to listen 

 to it before I rose in the morning, and it was 

 to be heard at intervals all day long. Occasion- 

 ally it was given in an absent-minded, medi- 

 tative way, in a kind of half-voice, as if the 

 happy creature had no thought of what he was 

 doing. Then it was at its best, but one needed 

 to be near the singer. 



In a clearing back of the hotel, but sur- 

 rounded by the forest, were always a goodly 

 company of birds, among the rest a family of 

 yellow-bellied woodpeckers ; and in a second 

 similar place were white - throated sparrows, 

 Maryland yellow - throats, and chestnut -sided 

 warblers, the last two feeding their young. 



