THE HERMIT THRUSH. 



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'N John Burroughs' "Birds and 

 Poets" this master singer is 

 described as the most melodious 

 of our songsters, with the ex- 

 ception of the Wood Thrush, 

 a bird whose strains, more than any 

 other's, express harmony and serenity, 

 and he complains that no merited 

 poetic monument has yet been reared 

 to it. But there can be no good 

 reason for complaining of the 

 absence of appreciative prose concern- 

 ing the Hermit. One writer says: 

 "How pleasantly his notes greet the 

 ear amid the shrieking of the wind 

 and the driving snow, or when in a 

 calm and lucid interval of genial 

 weather we hear him sing, if possible, 

 more richly than before. His song 

 reminds us of a coming season when 

 the now dreary landscape will be 

 clothed in a blooming garb befitting 

 the vernal year of the song of the 

 Blackbird and Lark, and hosts of other 

 tuneful throats which usher in that 

 lovely season. Should you disturb 

 him when singing he usually drops 

 down and awaits your departure, 

 though sometimes he merely retires to 

 a neighboring tree and warbles as 

 sweetly as before." 



In "Birdcraft" Mrs. Wright tells us, 

 better than any one else, the story of 

 the Hermit. She says: "This spring, 

 the first week in May, when standing 

 at the window about six o'clock in the 

 morning, I heard an unusual note, and 

 listened, thinking it at first a Wood 

 Thrush and then a Thrasher, but soon 

 finding that it was neither of these I 

 opened the window softly and looked 

 among the near by shrubs, with my 

 glass. The wonderful melody ascended 

 gradually in the scale as it progressed, 

 now trilling, now legato, the most 

 perfect, exalted, unrestrained, yet 

 withal, finished bird song that I ever 

 heard. At the first note I caught 

 sight of the singer perching among 

 the lower sprays of a dogwood tree. 



I could see him perfectly: it was the 

 Hermit Thrush. In a moment he 

 began again. I have never heard the 

 Nightingale, but those who have say 

 that it is the surroundings and its con- 

 tinuous night singing that make it even 

 the equal of our Hermit; for, while 

 the Nightingales sing in numbers in 

 the moonlit groves, the Hermit tunes 

 his lute sometimes in inaccessible soli- 

 tudes, and there is something imma- 

 terial and immortal about the 

 song." 



The Hermit Thrush is comparatively 

 common in the northeast, and in 

 Pennsylvania it is, with the exception 

 of the Robin, the commonest of the 

 Thrushes. In the eastern, as in many 

 of the middle states, it is only a 

 migrant. It is usually regarded as a 

 shy bird. It is a species of more 

 general distribution than any of the 

 small Thrushes, being found entirely 

 across the continent and north to the 

 Arctic regions. It is not quite the 

 same bird, however, in all parts of its 

 range, the Rocky Mountain region 

 being occupied by a larger, grayer 

 race, while on the Pacific coast a 

 dwarf race takes its place. It is 

 known in parts of New England as 

 the "Ground Swamp Robin," and in 

 other localities as "Swamp Angel." 



True lovers of nature find a certain 

 spiritual satisfaction in the song of 

 this bird. "In the evening twilight 

 of a June day," says one of these, 

 "when all nature seemed resting in 

 quiet, the liquid, melting, lingering 

 notes of the solitary bird would steal 

 out upon the air and move us strange- 

 ly. What was the feeling it awoke in 

 our hearts? Was it sorrow or joy, 

 fear or hope, memory or expectation? 

 And while we listened, we thought 

 the meaning of it all was coming; it 

 was trembling on the air, and in an 

 instant it would reach us. Then it 

 faded, it was gone, and we could not 

 even remember what it had been." 



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