STRANGE CRIES UP THE ROAD. 63 



late. So hard it is in the bird-world, as in the 

 human, to help, and not hurt. 



More interesting, even, than this flycatcher 

 episode was an adventure one evening when I 

 walked far out on a road, one side of which was 

 deep woods, while the other was bordered by 

 pasture and meadows. My object in going was 

 to hear a white-throated sparrow, who often sang 

 in that vicinity. 



I had been resting on my camp-stool very 

 quietly for half an hour, and was just thinking 

 it time to return home, when a strange sort of 

 clacking cry startled me. At first I thought it 

 was made by a frog with a bad cold ; but it grew 

 louder, and changed in quality, till it became a 

 whining sound that might be made either by a 

 baby or by some small animal. I looked very 

 carefully up the road whence the sound seemed 

 to come, but saw nothing excepting a robin, who, 

 perched on the highest post of a fence, was look- 

 ing and listening with great apparent interest, 

 but without making a sound himself, — a very 

 unusual proceeding on the part of this bird, who 

 always has a great deal to say about everything. 



The cries increased in volume and frequency, 

 and I started slowly up the road, uncertain 

 whether I should come upon a young fox or 

 other wild beast, but determined to solve the 

 mystery. As I drew near, I began to be con- 



