Shall America's Songsters Be Slaughtered? 



By Garrett P. Serviss 



The fight of the Audubon societies to preserve our American song birds 

 from destruction is something that all lovers of the natural attractions of this 

 country ought to aid. We boast of several of the greatest songsters in the world, 

 and every Summer they are being shot down without mercy, so that their music 

 becomes fainter and less frequent in the woods and fields. It is robbing the nation 

 to take the lives of these melody-makers ! 



Three or four of the finest of the American singers belong to the wonderful 

 thrush family, which comprises most of the leading musicians of the bird world. 

 Unfortunately they are regarded by certain persons as "good eating," and that 

 is made an excuse for their slaughter. They include the wood thrush, the brown 

 thrush, or, more properly, brown thrasher; the hermit thrush and the veery, or 

 tawny thrush. 



The brown thrasher, which is really a wren, though it looks like a thrush, 

 has been called the mocking bird of the North. It is of a reddish color on the 

 back, with a cream-white breast, marked with arrow-shaped streaks or spots. It 

 loves the neighborhood of inhabited houses, and is very fond of perching and 

 singing in orchards and among shade trees. It has a very merry note, and begins 

 singing at break of day. When it sings it likes to get on the topmost bough, 

 where, unluckily, it makes a good mark for boys' rifles. It is noted for the variety 

 and liveliness of its song. 



The wood thrush is a marvel. Neither the nightingale nor the mocking bird 

 can surpass it in the richness, beauty and spiritual melody of its song. It has 

 but one possible superior, the hermit thrush, and but one equally gifted rival, 

 the veery. It is about as large as a robin redbreast, and it is sometimes called 

 the wood robin. Its strongly spotted vest, however, distinguishes it at once from 

 a robin. 



The splendor of its song surpasses description. It is the Jenny Lind of 

 birds. George William Curtis said of Jenny Lind : "Romantic singing, pic- 

 turesque, mournful, weird, could go no further." E. H. Forbush has said of 

 the wood thrush : "Its tones seem like a vocal expression of the mystery of the 

 universe, clothed in a melody so pure and ethereal that the soul, still bound to its 

 earthly tenement, can neither imitate nor describe it. 



When I was a boy a wood thrush sang at sundown and during the twilight 

 in a grove of trees across a field from my father's house, and to wait for and 

 listen to the marvelous song of that bird as the Summer night approached was 

 one of the most delightful experiences that I can remember. It awoke a feeling 

 of wonder. It was so unearthly sweet, clear, ringing and melodious that it awed 

 me as if I had heard an angel! 



The hermit thrush justifies its name by its life; it lives, retired, and loves 

 the twilight hours of morning and evening in the shades or dark woods and of 



324 



