184 VIRGINIA 



time, a somewhat different matter; for 

 new songs, happily, songs new to the in- 

 dividual listener, are by no means so in- 

 frequent as the songs of new birds. On the 

 very forenoon of which I am now writing, I 

 heard another strain that was every whit as 

 novel to my ear as the worm-eater's, as 

 novel, indeed, as if it had been the work of 

 some bird from the other side of the planet. 

 Again and again it was given out, at tanta- 

 lizing intervals, and I could not so much as 

 guess at the identity of the singer ; partly, 

 it may be, because of the feverish anxiety I 

 was in lest he should get away from me in 

 that endless mountain-side forest. Every 

 repetition I thought would be the last, and 

 the bird gone forever. Finally, as I edged 

 nearer and nearer, half a step at once, with 

 infinite precaution, I caught a glimpse of a 

 chickadee. A chickadee ! Could he be 

 doing that ? Yes ; for I watched him, and 

 saw it done. And these were the notes, or 

 the best that my pencil could make of them : 

 twee, twee, twee (very quick), twitty, twitty, 

 the first measure in a thin, wire-drawn 

 tone, the second a full, clear whistle. Some- 

 times the three twees were slurred almost 



