A MONTH'S MUSIC. 281 
now writing (May, 1884) I was favored with 
thrush music to a quite unwonted degree. With 
the exception of the varied thrush (a New-Eng- 
lander by accident only) and the mocking-bird, 
there was not one of our Massachusetts repre- 
sentatives of the family who did not put me in 
his debt. The robin, the brown thrush, the cat- 
bird, the wood thrush, the veery, and even the 
hermit (what a magnificent sextette!) — so 
many I counted upon hearing, as a matter of 
course ; but when to these were added the Are- 
tic thrushes — the olive-backed and the gray- 
cheeked —I gladly confessed surprise. I had 
never heard either species before, south of the 
White Mountains ; nor, as far as I then knew, 
had anybody else been more fortunate than 
myself. Yet the birds themselves were seem- 
ingly unaware of doing anything new or note- 
worthy. This was especially the case with the 
olive-backs ; and after listening to them for three 
days in succession I began to suspect that they 
were doing nothing new, — that they had sung 
every spring in the same manner, only, in the 
midst of the grand May medley, my ears had 
somehow failed to take account of their contri- 
bution. Their fourth (and farewell) appear- 
ance was on the 23d, when they sang both morn- 
ing and evening. At that time they were ina 
bit of swamp, among some tall birches, and as 
