OUTDOORS 



hides in deepest copses and builds his coarse 

 nest gossiping between times with his mate. 

 He is chary of his song, as if he knew its 

 worth and matchless melody. The robin 

 flutes in the elms when the sun's rays wheel 

 slantingly toward the west, and after the rain 

 the brown thrush sings from a treetop, but 

 only rarely, in my experience, does a cat- 

 bird choose the daytime for his gift of song. 

 Possibly he listens, for he has the notes of 

 many a morning and evening songster in his 

 repertoire. 



His coat is of a subdued tint, as betokens 

 the rarest vocalists of the woods and fields. 

 It is true that the red-bird, brilliant in color 

 as a torch at midnight, sings sweetly. And 

 the orioles, with their orange and black and 

 other bright diversities of plumage, are sing- 

 ers in the true sense, but not such lyrists as 

 the cat-bird and the mocking-bird. How 

 quietly has nature robed her chief favorites 

 the cat-bird, the mocking-bird, the thrushes, 

 the song-sparrow, and the robin. The lone 

 exception among the birds whose songs rank 

 highest is that saucy harlequin, the bobolink, 

 for the tanager and the oriole, sweet as their 

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