102 TANGLES OF BIRD-SONG. 



bird orchestra, and try to catch the higher har- 

 mony of it all. Many times have I been caught — 

 a willing captive — in the meshes of an outdoor 

 concert. 



Memory fondly lingers about a delightful ex- 

 perience of this kind which I had one June morn- 

 ing in Northern Indiana. Before daylight I had 

 risen, and leaving behind me the city wrapped in 

 slumber, I made my way across the dewy fields to 

 the broad, clear river, whose wooded banks a large 

 number of birds had chosen for their summer 

 home. 



My objective point was a well-timbered spot 

 between the river bank and a steep declivity 

 about eight rods back from the stream. Here and 

 there were dense thickets of underbrush, gro wing- 

 up about the bases of the beeches, maples, eliiis 

 and sycamores, while the more open spaces were 

 covered with a carpet of soft, green sod. The 

 steep acclivity, which was thickly overgrown with 

 small oak-trees, curved around to meet the river 

 above and below, thus inclosing a regular bird 

 bower, as I well knew from many previous 

 excursions. 



When I reached the place, the sun was just 

 peeping over the eastern woods, glittering in the 



