SONG-BIEDS. Thrushes 



shaped brown spots. Breast and under parts white. Bill dark 



above, lower mandible light. Feet light. 

 So)i(j : Ringing, echo-like. Professor Ridgway indicates it thus : 



"Taweel 'ah — taweel 'ah, twil-ah, twil-ah ! " 

 Season : Early May to October. 

 Breeds : According to Coues, in the northerly part of its range, but it 



also breeds freely in our river groves and in the more southern 



portion of the Middle States. 

 Nest : Built either upon or near the ground, of sticks and twigs like 



that of the Wood Thrush, but lacking the mud. 

 Eggs : Like Robin and Wood Thrush, of a greenish blue, but smaller 



than either. 

 Bange : Eastern United States to the Plains, north to Manitoba, 



Ontario, Anticosti, and Newfoundland. 



The Veery, the most .slender and graceful of the Thrushes, 

 is with us all the season, but it is so shy and elusive in its 

 ways of slipping through the trees and underbrush in 

 SAvampy woodlands that it seems scarcely an actual j^res- 

 ence. Change a word in Wordsworth's verses on the Cuckoo 

 and the description is perfect : — 



" O Veery ! shall I call thee bird, 

 Or but a wandering voice ? " 



When it first arrives, and before mating, the Veery is seen 

 frequently in the garden, prying under dead leaves and in 

 low bushes like all its insect-eating kin, but when it retires 

 to the woods to nest all but the voice seems to vanish. That 

 wonderful, haunting voice ! It was a woodland mystery to 

 me not so very long ago ; a vocal Will-o'-the-Wisp. Lead- 

 ing on and on, up and down river banks, into wild grape 

 tangles and clinging brush, then suddenly ceasing and leav- 

 ing me to return as best I might. 



There came a time, however, when a few pairs, mating 

 before they left the garden in the spring, surprised us by 

 singing while in view, and the same season we took a leis- 

 urely drive through the country to see the orchards in bloom, 

 and stopped for the night at a hospitable farmhouse in a 

 hollow that winds between banks clad with laurel and hem- 

 locks up to the old village of Redding llidge. 



59 



