146 IN BIRD LAND. 
the song for fully an hour, I could not well have 
been mistaken. Several times the reproduction of 
the goldfinch’s song was so perfect that I looked 
the tree all over again and again with my glass for 
that bird, but goldfinches there were none about. 
Moreover, the gnat-catcher was in plain sight, 
dropping quite low in the tree part of the time; and 
there can be no doubt that every strain proceeded 
from his lyrical little throat. 
The forenoon and part of the afternoon slipped 
away all too rapidly, bringing many valuable additions 
to my stock of bird lore; but I must pass others 
by to describe the most important “find” (to me) 
of this red-letter day in my experience. At about 
half-past four o’clock I reached an old bush-covered 
gravel-bank where many birds of various species 
have been encountered. As I stepped near a pool 
at the foot of the bank, a little bird flashed into 
view, setting my pulses all a-flutter. It was the 
hooded warbler, the first of the species I had ever 
seen. He was recognizable at once by the bright 
yellow hood he wore, bordered all around with deep 
black. A bright, flitting blossom of the bird world ! 
For fully an hour I lingered in that ‘“ embowered 
solitude,’’ watching the bird’s quaint behavior, which 
deserves more than a mere passing notice. He was 
not in the least shy or nervous, but seemed rather 
to court my presence. Almost every moment was 
spent in capturing insects on the wing or in sitting 
on a perch watching for them to flash into view. 
Like a genuine flycatcher, as soon as a buzzing insect 
ee eee an wa Piss saree 
Ge sen 
