72 IN THE HEMLOCKS. 



something impish and uncanny. It is a 

 new effect, the night side of the woods by 

 daylight. After observing them a moment 

 I take a single step toward them, when, quick 

 as thought, their eyes fly wide open, their 

 attitude is changed, they bend, some this 

 way, some that, and, instinct with life and 

 motion, stare wildly around them. Another 

 step, and they all take flight but one, which 

 stoops low on the branch, and with the look 

 of a frightened cat regards me for a few 

 seconds over its shoulder. They fly swiftly 

 and softly, and disperse through the trees. 

 I shoot one, which is of a tawny red tint, 

 like that figured by Wilson, who mistook a 

 young bird for an old one. The old birds 

 are a beautiful ashen gray mottled with 

 black. In the present instance, they were 

 sitting on the branch with the young. 



Coming to a drier and less mossy place in 

 the woods, I am amused with the golden- 

 crowned thrush, which, however, is no 

 thrush at all, but a warbler, like the night- 

 ingale. He walks on the ground ahead of 

 me with such an easy, gliding motion, and 

 with such an unconscious, preoccupied air, 

 jerking his head like a hen or a partridge, 

 now hurrying, now slackening his pace, that 



