es 
A Bouquet of Song Birds 
nothing of importance to remark, commonly 
abound in small talk. The curiously colored, 
chestnut-sided warbler was plentiful, with his 
insipid but vibrant strain. The pert little 
oven-bird was omnipresent—a delightful fellow 
to look at as he struts about in his trim figure 
and soft olive dress, but his inordinate loquac- 
ity often mars the effect. He was hammering 
the air incessantly with his familiar dissyllable 
—at first amusing, then wearisome, and finally 
maddening. His relative, the water thrush, 
was less assertive, but more musical, The dis- 
tinctiveness of all the warblers increases with 
acquaintance. Nature tucks away a trace of 
individuality into every possible corner. Un- 
der the guise of uniformity, she is wonderfully 
lavish of variety, and evidently abhors monot- 
ony as much as she is reputed to abhor a vac- 
uum. 
Of course, in mass of brilliant color, the 
scarlet tanager makes all our other birds pale. 
Early in the morning he was singing a brief 
phrase of three notes in a rich but hoarse voice, 
and as lustily as his indolent nature would allow ; 
but later he indulged in a genuine and really 
pleasing warble, with a very different quality of 
tone, not unlike a clear and loud-voiced warb- 
15 
