30 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



gurgling trill of the long-billed marsh wren 

 has been in my ears. If I have been here 

 an hour, I must have heard that sound five 

 hundred times. Once only, and only for an 

 instant, I saw one of the singers. I have not 

 been on the watch for them, to be sure ; but 

 if it had been earlier in the season I should 

 have seen them whether I tried to do so or 

 not. It must be that the little aerial song- 

 flights, then so common and so cheerful to 

 look at, are now mostly over. 



In such a place, however, populous as it 

 is, one does not expect to see many birds 

 blackbirds being left out of the reckoning 

 at any time. Swamp ornithology is mainly 

 a matter of " earsight." Birds that live in 

 cat-tail beds and button-bush thickets are 

 very little on the wing. Here a least bittern 

 may coo day after day, and season after sea- 

 son, and it will be half a lifetime before you 

 see him do it. I have made inquiries far and 

 near in the likeliest quarters, and have yet 

 to learn, even at second hand, of any man 

 who has ever had that good fortune. Once, 

 for five minutes, I entertained a lively hope 

 of accomplishing the feat myself, but the 



