A Book on Birds 



for its pupils (it had thirteen all told, when 

 I was there) and teacher. 



However, to return to the Tanager, just 

 a stone's throw away! You will not need 

 to go more than thirty or forty feet into 

 the woods before you hear him repeating 

 overhead his two sharp, unmusical notes — 

 ^^chirp, churr! chirp, churr! chirp, churr!" 

 again and again. You have frightened him 

 from his nest, which is up on a horizontal 

 branch somewhere; but, exceptional fellow 

 that he is, he sits quite still and gives you 

 plenty of chance to study him till you 

 are tired. 



Or, until your attention is diverted by 

 the call of the Yellow-billed Cuckoo — 

 or Rainbird; for he is here, too; but, like 

 the others, hard to find. He is a large, 

 fine bird, as smooth and quiet in voice and 

 every movement as in color, except, perhaps, 

 for the loud, melancholy cry, often heard of 

 a sultry afternoon, with which he is said to 

 prognosticate a thunder shower. 



While you are trying in vain to locate 

 him, the big, sharp, saucy note of the 



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