The Burgess Bird Book for Children 



came now and then the sharp, rather harsh cry of 

 Boomer the Nighthawk, as he hunted his supper in 

 the air. 



For a time it seemed as if these were the only 

 feathered friends still awake, and Peter couldn't 

 help thinking that those who went so early to bed 

 missed the most beautiful hour of the whole day. 

 Then, from a tree just back of him, there poured 

 forth a song so clear, so sweet, so wonderfully suited 

 to that peaceful hour, that Peter held his breath 

 until it was finished. He knew that singer and 

 loved him. It was Melody the Wood Thrush. 



When the song ended Peter hopped over to the 

 tree from which it had come. It was still light 

 enough for him to see the sweet singer. He sat 

 on a branch near the top, his head thrown back and 

 his soft, full throat throbbing with the flute-like 

 notes he was pouring forth. He was a little smaller 

 than Welcome Robin. His coat was a beautiful 

 reddish-brown, not quite so bright as that of 

 Brownie the Thrasher. Beneath he was white 

 with large, black spots thickly dotting his breast 

 and sides. He was singing as if he were trying to 

 put into those beautiful notes all the joy of life. 

 Listening to it Peter felt steal over him a wonder- 

 ful feeling of peace and pure happiness. Not for 

 the world would he have interrupted it. 



The Black Shadows crept far across the Green 

 [230] 



