LATE SUMMER NOTES 65 



As I come to the edge of the swamp I see 

 a leaf move, and by squeaking draw into 

 sight a redstart. The pretty creature peeps 

 at me furtively, wondering what new sort of 

 man it can be that makes noises of that kind. 

 To all appearance she is very desirous not to 

 be seen ; yet she spreads her tail every few 

 seconds so as to display its bright markings. 

 Probably the action has grown to be habitual 

 and, as it were, automatic. A bird may be 

 unconsciously coquettish, I suppose, as well 

 as a woman or a man. It is a handsome tail, 

 anyhow. 



Somewhere just behind me a red-eyed 

 vireo is singing in a peculiar manner; re- 

 peating his hackneyed measure with all his 

 customary speed, forty or fifty times a 

 minute, but with no more than half his 

 customary voice, as if his thoughts were 

 elsewhere. I wish he would sing so always. 

 It would be an easy way of increasing his 

 popularity. 



Not far down the road are three roughly 

 dressed men, of the genus tramp, if I read 

 the signs aright, coming toward me ; and 

 I notice with pleasure that when they reach 



