148 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 
over our heads, and uttering a loud chuck ah, hid 
away in the leaves. It was the scarlet tanager, 
the bird of glowing coal, whose brilliancy passes 
wonder. His black wings and tail seemed only 
to intensify his flaming coat, which literally daz- 
zled my eyes as I looked at him. Little marvel 
that he takes pleasure in the green leaves! and 
chooses a wife —in most “ natural selection” — 
who is also his complemental color ! 
But how could Madam Tanager ever live with 
such a fiery husband if her eyes did not find re- 
lief in her own greens? Even then it would seem 
that she had to become accustomed to him by de- 
grees, for in his youth her gay cavalier is relieved 
by green, yellow, and black. Perhaps even his 
own eyes get tired, for like the bobolink and gold- 
finch in the fall he gets out his old clothes and 
flies away south in as plain a garb as his lady’s. 
Strolling through Paradise on another day I 
heard a song that I did not know, and leaving the 
river edge with its green grass and forget-me-nots, 
and clambering up the steep hillside where the 
magic witch-hazel blooms and shoots its seeds afar, 
I made my way cautiously to the tree from which 
the voice came. There, high over my head, was 
another scarlet tanager. He was evidently a 
young gentleman, for there was still a yellowish 
streak across his breast, but he sang his woodsy 
song with all the gusto of an old bass. It is 
loud and harsh, but in a rhythm that, as it has 
