234 A BIRDghOVER'S APRIL. 
I saw no bay-winged buntings until the 22d, 
although it is likely enough they had been here 
for some days before that. By a lucky chance, 
my very first bird was a peculiarly accomplished 
musician: he altered his tune at nearly every 
repetition of it, sang 1t sometimes loudly and 
then softly, and once in a while added cadenza- 
like phrases. It lost nothing by being heard on 
a bright, frosty morning, when the edges of the 
pools were filmed with ice. 
Only three species of warblers appeared dur- 
ing the month: the pine-creeping warblers, al- 
ready spoken of, who were trilling on the 14th ; 
the yellow-rumped, who came on the 23d; and 
the yellow red-polls, who followed the next morn- 
ing. The black-throated greens were mysteri- 
ously tardy, and the black-and-white creepers 
waited for May-day. 
A single brown thrush was leading the chorus 
on the 29th. ‘A great singer,’ my note-book 
says: “not so altogether faultless as some, but 
with a large voice and style, adapted to a great 
part ;”’ and then is added, “ I thought this morn- 
ing of ‘Titiens, as I listened to him!” —a bit of 
impromptu musical criticism, which, under cover 
of the saving quotation marks may stand for. 
what it is worth. 
Not long after leaving him I ran upon two 
hermit thrushes (one had been seen on the 
