228 THE TOWNSEND SOLITAIRE. 
“We followed down the river in the bottom of the canon; all day the 
gorge was filled with a chorus of sweet sounds from hundreds and thousands 
of these birds, which from their monotonous color, and their habit of sitting 
on the branch of a tree projecting into the void above the stream, or hanging 
from some beetling crag, and flying out in narrow circles after insects precisely 
in the manner of the Flycatchers I was disposed to associate with them. 
“Two days afterward in the cafion of Psuc-see-que Creek, of which the 
terraced banks were sparsely set with low trees of the western cedar (J. occi- 
dentalis), 1 found these birds numerous. * * * With the first dawn of day 
they began their songs, and at sunrise the valley was perfectly vocal with their 
notes. Never, anywhere, have I heard a more delightful chorus of bird music. 
Their song is not greatly varied, but all the notes are particularly clear and 
sweet, and the strain of pure gushing melody is as spontaneous and inspiring 
as that of the Song Sparrow. At this time, September 30, these birds were 
feeding on the berries of the cedar; they were very shy, and could only be ob- 
tained by lying concealed in the vicinity of the trees which they frequented.” 
Mr. T. M. Trippe, speaking for the Clear Creek Cafion in Colorado, says? : 
“Tn summer and fall its voice is rarely heard; but as winter comes on, and the 
woods are well-nigh deserted by all save a few Titmice and Nuthatches, it be- 
gins to utter occasionally a single bell-like note that can be heard at a great dis- 
tance. The bird is now very shy; and the author of the clear, loud call, that I 
heard nearly every morning from the valley of Clear Creek, was long a mys- 
tery to me. ‘Toward the middle and latter part of winter, as the snow begins 
to fall, the Flycatching Thrush delights to sing, choosing for its rostrum a pine 
tree in some elevated position, high up above the valleys; and not all the fields 
and groves, and hills and valleys of the Eastern States, can boast a more ex- 
quisite song; a song in which the notes of the Purple Finch, the Wood Thrush, 
and the Winter Wren are blended into a silvery cascade of melody, that ripples 
and dances down the mountain sides as clear and sparkling as the mountain 
brook, filling the woods and yalleys with ringing music. At first it sings only 
on bright clear mornings; but once fairly in the mood, it sings at all hours and 
during the most inclement weather. Often while travelling over the narrow, 
winding mountain roads, toward the close of winter, I have been overtaken and 
half-blinded by sudden, furious storms of wind and snow, and compelled to 
seek the nearest tree or projecting rock for shelter. In such situations I have 
frequently listened to the song of this bird, and forgot the cold and wet in its 
enjoyment. ‘Toward spring, as soon as the other birds begin to sing, it be- 
comes silent as tho disdainful of joining the common chorus, and commences 
building its nest in May, earlier than almost any other bird. During this season 
it deserts the valleys, and confines itself to partially wooded hill-tops.” 
a. Coues, Birds of the Northwest (1874), pp. 95, 96. 
