THE MOCKING BIRD. 69 
mewing of the Cat-bird, the loud clear melody of the 
Wood Robin, the shrill cry of the Woodpecker, and 
many other voices equally attractive. As we advance 
into the thicket the confusion of sounds increases ; 
every song with which we are familiar, and many 
more, seem suddenly let loose upon the ear, and last, 
though it is broad day, we are surprised to hear the 
ery of the Whip-poor-will. This exciting our curios- 
ity, we naturally look around to discover the cause 
of so strange an occurrence; but still sounds the 
clear cry of “ Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!’ When 
suddenly there darts up from a low bush near by a 
fine Mocking Bird, and settling on a branch within 
our view, continues his varied melody. The secret 
is at once explained; the little mimic before us has 
been the sole cause of our surprise, and there he sits 
flirting his long tail from side to side with an air of 
perfect satisfaction, expanding his wings and stretch- 
ing his neck in all directions, while he calls out with 
much animation, “ Bob-White! Bob-White!” and 
before poor Bob-White has time to scamper to his 
covey, the screams of the Pigeon Hawk are heard 
wild and clear; then immediately his voice falls into 
some soft and tender warble, gradually rising higher 
and higher until we recognize, among a host of others, 
the clear and ringing melody of the Brown Thrush, 
set off with the gentler tones of the Robin and Blue- 
bird, occasionally interspersed with some fine, pleas- 
ing original notes. We stand and listen with delight 
to this grand concert of Nature’s great musician, his 
voice ever changing, ever sweet, until the twilight 
