36 Jhilleiiii No. 20. 



Jones put him across the creek, where I " held him " for Jones to study. 

 During this time he favored us with a few delicate snatches of a sweet 

 but very weak song. Taken altogether it is scarcely any wonder that 

 we had not found this bird before. 



In the woods also I almost stumbled on a beautiful Mourning Warbler. 

 So tenaciously did it cling to the brush heap, that Mr. Jones afterward 

 drove it up within four feet of me, where it allowed a most minute in- 

 spection. It's snapping black eyes vied with the shining jet of its breast, 

 and we let it go for a " little exquisite. " Another rarity was the Gray- 

 cheeked Thrush, which we came upon in addition to the three other 

 species. 



After a half hour lost at breakfast, Mr. Jones and I boarded the elec- 

 tric cars for Lorain, on Lake Erie, intending to search the shore for hve 

 miles ; then after exploring a swamp there to tramp back to Oberlin via 

 Beaver Creek bottom. Arrived at Lorain, we saw from the pier Com- 

 mon Terns, which are usually anything but common here. Purple Mar- 

 tins swarmed about the docks and channels, and with them were mingled 

 a few Tree Swallows. Also a very ancient and tattered Bald Eagle soared 

 slowly overhead. When we called the attention of an intelligent-looking 

 bystander to the fact, he exclaimed excitedly, " Is that so ? Why, some- 

 body ought to get after him." That's it ! That is the average American's 

 one idea of the eagle. "Kill it." Let us be thankful that there are 

 some of us who have been spared that ignominy. 



Shore birds were conspicuously absent, but in the swampy sections 

 arrivals dropped in on us pretty fast. As the "go" mark was passed 

 our spirits, already high, rose perceptibly. When it began to look as if 

 we would score a hundred, the editor became visibly excited, while the 

 writer, who is somewhat younger and more "flighty," gave vent to a 

 few uncontrollable whoops. However in our wanderings we came across 

 a feathered brother who was able to adequately express our sentiments. 

 It was the American Bittern ; and I tell you candidly, gentle reader, that 

 of all uncanny noises the noise he makes is the most uncanniest of all. 

 Take a jug the size of a hogshead, and while full of air, duck it mouth 

 down in the pond. Then let the air escape in great gurgles, say a cask- 

 ful at a time, and Vou get but a faint idea of the terrifying, earth shak- 

 ing power of the well lubricated " Thunder-pump." 



The return was made along a creek bottom of varied character. A 

 pair of the rare Rough-winged Swallows were sighted in a small shale- 

 walled gorge. Several strays were brought into line, and the list ap- 

 propriately closed at 7:15 p. i\i. by the appearance of the first Nighthawk. 



