208 SINGING BIRDS. 



these birds winter in the myrtle-swamps of South Carolina. I 

 have not, however, seen them in the Southern States at that 

 season, and most part of the species pass on probably as far as 

 the coast of the Mexican Gulf. They do not, according to 

 Wilson, breed in the lower parts of Pennsylvania, though un- 

 doubtedly they do in the mountainous districts, where they are 

 seen as late as the 20th of May. They propagate and are very 

 common in Massachusetts. 



In its retiring habits and love of concealment this Thrush 

 resembles the preceding. It frequents the dark and shady 

 borders of small brooks and woods, and sometimes the bushy 

 and retired parts of the garden ; from whence, without being 

 often seen, in the morning and particularly the evening to the 

 very approach of night, we often hear the singular, quaint, and 

 musical note of this querulous species at short intervals, as one 

 perches upon some low branch of a tree or bush. This curious 

 whistling note sounds like ^vehu ^v'rehu 'v'rehu 'v'rehu, and 

 sometimes 'ved ved ^vrehd ^vrehd vehu, running up the notes 

 till they become shrill and quick at the close, in the first 

 phrase, but from high to low, and terminating slender and 

 slow, in the latter; another expression seems to be, 've 'ved 

 vehurr, ascending like a whistle. The song of another indi- 

 vidual was expressed in the following manner : 've ''viUill 'viirill 

 'tullull 'tuUuL It was then repeated with variation, 've viirillil 

 vilUll villill; then viUUlill vilMill, tulM/l iuirilill ; the whole 

 agreeably and singularly delivered in a shrill, hollow voice, 

 almost like the sound of liquor passing through a tunnel into a 

 bottle. I have also heard several of these sounds, sometimes 

 occasionally prefaced by a mewing or chirping warble. These 

 sounds, though monotonous, are possessed of greater variety 

 than is at first imagined, the terminating tone or key changing 

 through several repetitions, so as to constitute a harmony and 

 melody in some degree approaching the song of the more 

 musical Wood Thrush. From this habit of serenading into 

 the night, the species is sometimes here dignified with the 

 nickname of the Nightingale. Occasionally he utters an angry, 

 rather plaintive mew, like the Catbird, or a quivering bleat 



