258 THE BROWN THRASHER. 
open air, the jubilant boasting of a soul untamed. Each phrase is repeated 
twice. 
“That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, 
Lest you think he never could recapture 
The first fine careless rapture.” 
He opens his bill wide, his body vibrates with emotion, and each note is 
graced by a compensating movement of the drooping tail. 
Altho the Brown ‘Thrasher does not make such hopeless confusion of jest 
and earnest as does the Catbird, there is still something of the buffoon about 
him, and his ways in the bush are not altogether above criticism. Possibly 
Photo by E. B. Williamson. 
NEST OF THE BROWN THRASHER. 
with the best of motives, but still in a very annoying fashion the bird sneaks 
about through the brush and insists upon knowing your business. From time 
to time it utters a sharp repulsive tsook, and occasionally a suggestive you-wh, 
which makes one feel conspicuous and uncomfortable. The bird’s eye too, 
with its orange iris, while it must be admitted to harmonize perfectly with the 
warm russet of the plumage, has a sinister cast which might prejudice the 
unthinking. 
