Song Birds and Water Fowl 
ing off his irritation over some recent disagree- 
able experience. But his temper sweetens as 
the season advances, and in mid-summer he 
breathes the serenity of his native wilds, where 
waving trees and purling brooks are chanting 
restful undertones to the clear, melodic phrases 
of this noble singer. His call-note is but the 
chrysalis of his song—at first soft and seldom 
heard, but gradually becoming louder and more 
frequent, until at length he breaks out into a rich 
and finely modulated chant. On the other hand, 
the very loudest and richest sound of the wood 
thrush is his call-note, commonly repeated two or 
three times, marvellously vigorous, sparkling and 
delicious. Its fiery animation is really startling. 
If his song were proportionally splendid, he 
would almost rival the finest human voice; and 
would certainly make every other bird-song 
seem insipid. Before leaving the thrush family, 
I must do that somewhat ostracized member, 
the catbird—the black sheep of the family—the 
justice ta say that he was never more conspicu- 
ously on his good behavior, in action and song, 
than on this occasion. I cannot but recollect, 
however, that these are his courtship days ; and 
the sly scamp is shrewd enough to know that it 
would be very impolitic and disastrous for him 
8 
