THE HERMIT THRUSH. I 7, 



HERMIT THRUSH. 



(Turdus Pallasi) 



Closely allied to the Robin is that delicate 

 recluse, the sweet - voiced Hermit Thrush. It 

 never comes about our houses and gardens, t)ut 

 keeps to the secret shadows of the wood -land, 

 pouring out from its hidden retreat a song of the 

 most exquisite delicacy and richness. It would 

 be but little known or cared for but for the 

 marvellous beauty of its plaintive melody, which 

 would entitle it to be called the Nightingale of 

 our groves. On a calm evening in June, when 

 the leafy bowers hang silent in shadowed beauty, 

 and the amber light steals softly through the 

 arches, and the holy stillness of the sunset hour 

 rests on nature, the Hermit's song is loudest, 

 clearest, and fullest. Then it fills the whole 

 wood -land with pure, liquid notes, thrilling with 

 emotion and delicate plaintiveness. 



In singing, the bird chooses a lofty perch in 

 some retired glade. It sits motionless on the 

 bough, its speckled bosom swelled, its delicate bill 

 parted, and its head raised to the clear field of 

 the sky as it pours out those strains that seem 



