A QUEER SUN-BATH. 147 



self as if he were alone ; often taking a sunning 

 by crouching on the top twig of a bush, spread- 

 ing wings and tail and fluffing out his plumage 

 till he looked like a ragged bunch of feathers. 

 It was very droll to see him, while in this atti- 

 tude, suddenly pull himself together, stand up- 

 right, utter his song, and instantly relapse into 

 the spread-eagle position to go on with his sun- 

 bath. To my surprise, I found that this war- 

 bler, whose song and movements always seem to 

 indicate a constant flitting and scrambling about 

 in warbler fashion, is capable of repose. He 

 frequently stood perfectly still, the black patch 

 which covers his eyes like an old-fashioned face- 

 mask turned toward me, singing his little aria 

 with as much composure as ever thrush sang his. 



My pleasing acquaintance with the yellow- 

 throat ended as soon as the young became ex- 

 pert on the wing and could leave their native 

 alder patch. After that the nook was deserted, 

 and unless I heard the song I could not distin- 

 guish my little friend among the dozens of his 

 species who lived in the neighborhood. 



Toward the north end of my delectable hunt- 

 ing-ground was a second favorite spot, especially 

 attractive on warm, sunny mornings. When I 

 turned my steps that way, I came first upon the 

 feeding-ground of another party of Young Amer- 

 icans, — thrashers. They were a family group, 



