MINOR SONGSTERS. 181 
We watched the little tableau admiringly (I had 
never seen a prettier show of nonchalance), and 
thanked our stars that we had been saved from 
an involuntary slaughter of the innocents while 
trampling all about the spot. The nest, which 
we had tried so hard to find, was in plain sight, 
concealed only by the perfect agreement of its 
color with that of the dead pine-branches in the 
midst of which it was placed. The shrewd birds 
had somehow learned — by experience, perhaps, 
like ourselves — that those who would escape 
disagreeable and perilous conspicuity must con- 
form as closely as possible to the world around 
them. 
According to my observation, the towhee is 
not much given to singing after July; but he 
keeps up his call, which is little less musical 
than his song, till his departure in late Septem- 
ber. At that time of the year the birds collect 
together in their favorite haunts; and I remem- 
ber my dog’s running into the edge of a road- 
side pasture among some cedar-trees, when there 
broke out such a chorus of cherawinks that I 
was instantly reminded of a swamp full of frogs 
in April. 
After the tanager the Baltimore oriole (named 
for Lord Baltimore, whose colors he wears) is 
probably the most gorgeous, as he is certainly 
one of the best known, of New England birds. 
