CHEWINK. 8 ys 
raspberry stem and looking at me over his shoul- 
der, is a handsome male chewink. What a beauty! 
His back is black and his sides match the crisp 
curled beech leaves that color the wood paths in 
fall. He whisks his tail back and forth, and opens 
and shuts it as a nervous beauty toys with her fan, 
so disclosing the white feathers that border it and 
the white triangles on the corners. But before I 
ean put pencil to note-book he has disappeared. I 
spy about in all directions, get down on my knees 
to peer through the raspberry bushes, and _ tiptoe 
along, ogling all the white-throats that light on the 
fence — but never a glimpse do I get of him. 
Then suddenly he appears on top of a fence 
facing me; but as I look down he hops among 
the ferns, and as I screen myself behind a tree 
for a better view when he shall fly up again, a low 
cheree-ah-ree reaches me, and I see him on the 
fence several rods away! He looks up to the 
trees, raising and lowering his cap, with the odd 
effect of rounding or flattening his head, and then, 
deciding in favor of brambles, jumps off into the 
bushes again. 
And so I follow him for three or four hours, 
trying every device to keep near without letting 
him take fright, stepping on moss or walking 
along the trunks of fallen trees to avoid the crack- 
ling sound of the leaves, stopping to listen for his 
soft cheree-ah-ree, getting down to look through 
the bare stems of the bushes for him, and, if I see 
