THRUSHES. 1938 
ining the leaves with the care of a vireo, or clam- 
bering down the side of an alder stalk to hunt at 
its roots. Wahr-r-ree'-chee-tee, whr-r-ree!-chee-tee, 
whr-r-ree!-chee-tee, the cheery rich song comes v1- 
brating through the air, to be echoed from the 
far-off corners of the swamp. We sit down on 
an old moss-covered log to eat our lunch, and in 
answer to my call the sociable little warbler comes 
nearer and nearer till at last he catches sight of 
us. With what charming curiosity he peers down 
at us! What can be his thoughts of the strange 
intruders as he takes a half circle to inspect us, 
first from one point and then from another ! 
A little further along | come upon a father 
bird who is even more friendly. He is feeding 
his hungry little ones, and goes about in a most 
business-like way hunting for food, but still takes 
time for an occasional warble. He sees me, but, 
after a casual survey, keeps on with his work 
with the calmness of preoccupation, answering 
my call in a naive, off-hand manner that is very 
gratifying. 
LXVIIL. 
THRUSHES. 
AFTER spending a morning with a flock of 
warblers, trying to fix your glass on the spot 
overhead where the leaves stirred, striving to 
catch the colors of the cap and wing bars of the 
