The Audubon Societies 169 



After walking a little way I came across several paths and, following one, 

 finally came to a quiet place with the grass beaten down and bushes growing in 

 a circular position, forming a sort of tree-house. 



I waited there a minute, intending to go on after a few minutes' rest, when 

 all the songsters I wanted poured in upon me. 



Generally, when one goes 'bird hunting,' they play 'hide and seek' with 

 the birds, the game beginning with the bird-lover seeking and the birds hiding, 

 but this particular visit to the woods evidently reversed matters on my part, 

 for at that moment, I seemed to be hiding and the birds seeking. 



The Towhee's clear notes, which call his name, sang forth from the upper 

 branches of my so-called house. He changed his position and was silent a 

 minute, then again, as before, he burst forth in melody, letting every member 

 of the happy family of birds know where he was. 



A little Carolina Wren seemed very much surprised, when it saw the green 

 figure so closely watching from below, and with sharp chits, which grew rather 

 monotonous after calling quite a while, let me know that I was trespassing 

 on its land. 



An Indigo Bunting, who was changing to winter plumage, expressed its 

 opinion of me by uttering a sweet but not at all wonderful song on a bush quite 

 near my hiding-place. 



Two Catbirds sang an ever-changing duet on the topmost branches of 

 my house. 



A Brown Thrasher made me a visit and entertained me the whole time I was 

 there by a most human-like conversation. 



A little Maryland Yellow-throat sent forth its curious warble from a 

 near-by bush. 



A bright Redstart sang daily thanks on one of the bushes that comprised 

 my house. 



There were so many birds singing at the same time that the very trees 

 resounded, and the echoes went in every way, bounding through the woods, 

 awaking every sleeping squirrel. 



Is there anything in bird-study more gratifying and encouraging than to 

 have the birds seek you, instead of you seeking them? — Sarah Waldran 

 Weaver (age 13 years), "Clynmalia," Monkton, Md. 



[No comment is needed beyond the following quotation from a letter accompany- 

 ing the above: 



"Two articles sent with very near dates seems quite often to write my experiences 

 to Bird-Lore, but I was so enthused with my last experience that joy, gratification 

 and encouragement just simply made me write this article. 



My pony and her colt are my two best friends in watching birds. 'Ladie' makes 

 no complaints when I tell her we are going bird-hunting, but without a word she takes 

 me to one of my best friends, the woods."— A. H. W.] 



