WILSON’S THRUSH. 199 
side of the road, apparently indifferent to the 
baying of hounds, as well as the noisy play of 
the children; but I have also found others that 
were shy, even in the seclusion of an alder 
swamp. 
Tn our woods there are five haunts of the veery. 
Two are in a dry second growth, one of which is 
on the western exposure of the woods where the 
coldest winds sweep over the hill, and little is 
heard save the woodpecker’s reveille and the pen- 
sive note of the wood pewee. Here the thrushes’ 
chief occupation is to turn the dry leaves aside 
with their bills, and scratch among them, oven- 
bird fashion, for worms. The three other places 
are moist ferneries, two of them being in the 
most protected part of the woods. One is in the 
partridges’ cover, the grove of maple saplings 
where the redstart and the oven-bird nest, and 
the sun streams in to light up great masses of the 
arching hairy mountain fern, and warm the moss- 
covered drumming log of the partridge. An- 
other is an old swamp on whose border a giant 
hemlock stands. Here the red morning sunlight 
creeps up soon after the birds are awake, and 
touches caressingly the smooth trunks of the 
beeches. It always seems as if the veery were 
more sociable here than on the dark western side 
of the woods. If you find one running along on 
the dark moss, you are sure to see another stand- 
ing among the ferns; if you stop to see how the 
