MORNING IN THE NOETH WOODS. 117 



softly hither and thither, scanning the 

 branches of one tree after another, as a note 

 or the stirring of a leaf attracted me, ready 

 every minute for the sight of something 

 new and wonderful. I found nothing, 

 nothing new and wonderful, I mean, but I 

 had alLthe exhilaration of the chase. In the 

 company, nearly all of them in song, were 

 wood thrushes, a silent palm warbler (red- 

 poll), a magnolia warbler, three Canadian 

 flycatchers, many black-polls, one or two 

 redstarts, a chestnut-sided warbler, a black- 

 and-white creeper, a field sparrow, a yellow- 

 throated vireo, a wood pewee, an Acadian 

 flycatcher, and two or more yellow-billed 

 cuckoos. The red-poll was of a very pale 

 complexion (but I assert nothing as to its 

 exact identity, specific or sub-specific), and 

 seemed to me unreasonably late. It was 

 the llth of May, and birds of its kind had 

 been passing through Massachusetts by the 

 middle of April. Chestnut-sides were scarce 

 enough to be interesting, and it was good 

 to hear this lover of berry fields and the 

 gray birch singing from a sweet-gum. 



When at last I turned away from the 

 grassy glade, where cattle were pasturing, 



