MINOR SONGSTERS. 165 
might be said of the prairie warbler; but his 
étude is a little longer and less hurried, besides 
being in a higher key. I do not call to mind 
any bird who sings a downward scale. Having 
before spoken of the tendency of warblers to 
learn two or even three set tunes, I was the 
more interested when, last summer, I added 
another to my list of the species which aspire 
to this kind of liberal education. It was on the 
side of Mount Clinton that I heard two Black- 
burnians, both in full sight and within a few 
rods of each other, who were singing two en- 
tirely distinct songs. One of these — it is the 
common one, I think — ended quaintly with 
three or four short notes, like zip, zip, zip; 
while the other was not unlike a fraction of the 
winter wren’s melody. Those who are familiar 
with the latter bird will perhaps recognize the 
phrase referred to if I call it the wedlze, willie, 
winkie, — with a triple accent on the first syl- 
lable of the last word. Most of the songs of 
this family are rather slight, but the extremest 
case known to me is that of the black- poll 
(Dendreca striata), whose zee, zee, zee is al- 
most ridiculously faint. You may hear it con- 
tinually in the higher spruce forests of the 
White Mountains; but you will look a good 
many times before you discover its author, and 
not improbably will begin by taking it for the 
