LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 33 



these were not the cerulean's trees. None 

 but enthusiasts in the same line will be able 

 to appreciate the delight of such innocent 

 "collecting," birds in the memory instead 

 of specimens in a bag. Even on one's home 

 beat it quickens the blood ; how much more, 

 then, in a new field, where a man is almost a 

 stranger to himself, and rarities and novelties 

 seem but the order of the day. Again and 

 again, morning and afternoon, I traversed 

 the little wood, leaving it between whiles for 

 a rest under the big oaks on the edge of the 

 cliffs, whence, through green vistas, I gazed 

 upon the farms of Lookout Valley and 

 the mountains beyond. A scarlet tanager 

 called, my second one here, wood thrush 

 voices rang through the mountain side forest, 

 a single thrasher was doing his bravest from 

 the tip of a pine (our " brown mocking- 

 bird " is anything but a skulker when the 

 lyrical mood is on him), while wood pewees, 

 red-eyed vireos, yellow-throated vireos, black- 

 and-white creepers, and I do not remember 

 what else, joined in the chorus. Just after 

 noon an oven-bird gave out his famous aerial 

 warble. To an aspiring soul even a moun- 

 tain top is but a perch, a place from which 

 to take wing. 



