224 BULLETIN 196, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 



mainly in the Transition Zone but extends northward to lowlands in 

 the Canadian region; it has the most southern range except the wood 

 thrush whose breeding range extends far into the Southern States. 



Frank W. Braund, in a letter to Mr. Bent, speaking of a spot in 

 Ontario, Canada, where both the veery and the hermit thrush were 

 breeding, brings out the fact that each species was restricted to its 

 own habitat, although the two species were so near each other that 

 they could sometimes be heard singing at the same time. He says: 

 "The terrain was composed of rocky ridges, dry and lichen-covered, 

 with moist, fern- and bracken-carpeted basins between them. The 

 habitats of the veery and hermit were well defined: on each ridge I 

 could hear a male hermit, singing, whereas in the moist bottoms, 

 I heard the song of the veery. Standing on a ridge, I could hear 

 alternately a hermit, a veery, a hermit, etc., until the notes faded into 

 the distance." 



Prof. Maurice Brooks (MS.) speaks of the veery's habitat thus: 

 "The veery is a middle-of-the-mountain bird in the central Appala- 

 chian region. It is never found as a breeding bird in the warmer valleys, 

 nor found abundantly at the spruce-clad heights. Where extensive 

 hemlock stands occur, at whatever elevations, veeries are apt to be 

 found. Along Cheat Kiver, near Morgan town, W. Va., I have found 

 them nesting at elevations around 900 feet. I had always thought of 

 veeries as creatures of the wild, but during several seasons a group 

 of nature students has camped near Lake Terra Alta, Preston County, 

 W. Va., in a region where veeries are abundant. Every year our 

 experience has been the same; during the first few days the buds are 

 silent and not easily observed during the day, but as they become 

 used to our presence they come into camp more familiarly, feeding 

 around the tables even while we are eating. I have never seen another 

 thrush of this genus so tame." 



When we meet the veery in the forest we seldom get a clear view of 

 it for very long a time; generally we have only a glimpse before it 

 retires behind thick foliage or disappears among the crowded branches 

 of a tree. Sometimes, however, we catch sight of a veery as it moves 

 along a woodland path before us. Here, leaning forward with its 

 head stretched out, it progresses by a quick series of long, springing 

 froglike jumps — not scudding along like a robin — rising at each jump 

 well above the ground — perhaps to leap over the dead leaves that 

 usually litter the veery's pathway. When the bird pauses, it straightens 

 up, standing almost upright, so that if it is facing us the white breast 

 gleams out of the shadows, and holds the head high and often turned a 

 little to one side, staring about with its large, soft eyes. It flips its 

 wings as it goes on and sometimes leaps high in the air, giving a light 

 beat with its wings, half flying as it leaps. All its motions are quick, 



