74 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



A BIRD COMPOSER. 

 By George R. Thompson, Clinton, X. Y. 



It was a beautiful morning in Central New York, in the unusually warm 

 and pleasant Spring of 1908. The writer was just leaving his house oppo- 

 site the grounds, formerly owned by a nurseryman, of a neighbor who 

 spared no pains to maintain one of the beauty spots of his village. Sud- 

 denly from among the trees beyond the hedge a ringing bird song was heard, 

 — a single phrase only, — but so striking as instantly to command attention. 



Here was every inducement to stop and investigate, but nature study, the 

 thing that seemed worth while, had to yield to business engagements, things 

 of no consequence, but necessary in order to meet the endless procession of 

 bills, the penaky of an attempt at civilized life. And so a trolley trip and a 

 day in a city office followed instead of the more congenial ramble afield, not 

 without a resolution, however, to identify the songster at the earliest chance. 



Several days of fair, warm weather followed. Early one morning, — it 

 was Thursday, May 21, 1903, — through the open window of the sleeping 

 room the song was heard, instantly recognizable when one had observed it 

 before. Further sleep was out of the question. After hastily rising, a trial 

 at the piano, Avhile the song was fresh in memory, showed that the song- 

 phrase was in D minor, thus : 



Here was a musical phrase worthy of Wagner in originality and of Verdi 

 in sweetness, rendered with a brilliancy and tone quality not to be despised 

 in the cornet soloist of a metropolitan orchestra, — all by a little bird, un- 

 taught, save by nature, in rhythm, phrasing, tone-quality or motive. 



It was a bird morning and the air was full of song, but the repetition of 

 this phrase at short intervals dominated the chorus. A search with an opera- 

 glass in the shrubbery over the way was begun, with determination to solve 

 the mystery. Clear and strong the calls came, while evergreens and shrubs 

 among the trees were passed, and a wood thrush, hopping about on the grass 

 among the robins, ordinarily enough to attract attention, was passed almost 

 unnoticed. Soon the approach became cautious; the song was near. Finally 

 an evergreen was carefully rounded and there, in a shrub thirty feet away, 

 was the singer. He was not shy at approach; instead, he seemed to have the 

 proper scorn of the virtuoso for ordinary folk. But what humiliation for 

 the finder! With the belief that the commoner birds were known and that 



