36 THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



whistling notes, staccato and diminuendo, with 

 longer intervals toward the close. Again the 

 noise was like the mewing of cats, and sometimes 

 a young puppy seemed concealed in the bushes. 

 The whole thing puzzled me. The vocabulary 

 of the chat is not limited ; the bird is a polyglot 

 and vociferous. 



Once, on a very still day, about noon, when 

 nature was silent, — no songster carolled and 

 hardly a zephyr stirred, — I saw a bird rise from 

 a dense thicket and begin a curious flight, like 

 that of some butterfly or large moth, and as seem- 

 ingly inconsequent. With dangling legs and 

 slowly fluttering wings, with feathers apparently 

 awry, he poised for a moment, and then burst into 

 the series of notes that had so long confounded 

 me ; the croak, the whoop, and the sharp whistling 

 notes that I have tried to describe, and in addition 

 many other drolleries, both of song and motion, 

 were executed. A most remarkable performance ! 

 When he alighted again a momentary view dis- 

 closed a bird about seven and a half inches long. 

 All the upper parts and the wings were olive-green. 

 This color was interrupted on the sides of the face 

 by a clear white line extending from the nostril 

 to the back of the eye, and the region in front of 

 the eye was almost black, while about it was a 

 white ring. The whole throat and the body under 

 the chest was a clear lemon yellow, deepening 



