THE RUSSET-BACKED THRUSH. i 
ment without recourse to sight. Quit, or hwit, is a soft whistled note of inquiry 
and greeting, by which the birds keep in constant touch with each other, and 
which they are nowise disinclined to use in conversations with strangers. 
Hwootaylyochtyl is the name which the Quillayute lad gives the bird, the 
first syllable being whistled rather than spoken, in imitation of the bird’s note. 
At the friendly call the Thrush comes sidling over toward you thru the brush, 
until you feel that you could put your hand on it if you would; but the bird 
remains invisible, and says, quit, quit, with some asperity, if you disregard 
the convenances. 
A longer call-note, of sharper quality, qgueec, may be as readily imitated, 
altho its meaning in the bush is uncertain. The bird has also a spoken note, 
a sort of happy purring, which I call the coordaddy cry. In this the daddy 
notes are given in from one to six syllables, and are spoken “‘trippingly on the 
tongue.” 
Recalling again the guece note, we are surprised to find that it is the 
commonest sound heard during migrations. At midnight when a solemn hush 
is over all besides, this weird note comes down from the sky at any height, 
from every angle, a greeting en passant from the voyageurs, the tenderest, 
the most pathetic, the most mysterious voice of Nature. There are a dozen 
variations of pitch and tone, quééé, quee, kooo, etc., but the theme is one, and 
the quality is that of the Russet-backed Thrush. Now it is incredible that any 
one species should so abound to the exclusion of all others, or that one alone 
should speak, while others flit by silently. Moreover, the intermittent utter- 
ance of a single bird proclaims the rate at which that bird is moving, and 
oftener argues for the passing of the smaller species, Warblers and the like. 
Repeated observation would make it appear certain that this guce note is the 
common possession of many, perhaps of all species of migrant song birds, a 
sort of Esperanto for “Ho, Comrade!” by which the flying legions of the 
night are bound together in a great fellowship. 
Much of the apparent difference in the call-notes of these night-birds is 
explained when we remember that they are reaching us from different angles. 
Thus, the guee of a rapidly approaching bird is raised sharply and shortened, 
quéé; while the same voice, in passing, falls to a ghostly kwoo, at least a musi- 
cal third below. It is, perhaps, needless to add that practiced lips may join 
this mystic chorus and hold delightful converse with these brothers of the 
air—may, indeed, provoke them to trebled utterance in passing. 
But only the Russet-backed Thrush may repeat this cabalistic note, by 
day. He is the bugler in that greatest of all armies and he must needs keep 
in practice while on furlough. 
Russet-backs are tardy migrants, seldom arriving before the first week 
in May; and they are off again for the Southland by the first week in Septem- 
ber. ‘Two instances are on record, however, of the bird’s wintering here- 
