52 OUT WITH THE BIRDS 



traded attention, and a big, ruddy cock ruffed 

 grouse walked slowly off into the deeper woods. 

 Little schooled in the ways of man, he had no 

 fear, and quit-quitted and flirted his great 

 bronze tail proudly as he moved away. Ten 

 yards distant was a log that seemed to bear on 

 the case. It was hollow, bare of bark and 

 smooth, and the droppings about it showed that 

 it was a drumming-log. What soft muffled 

 thunderings had been started off down the val- 

 ley, from this old fallen poplar, we could only 

 guess. Without a doubt the mate of this hand- 

 some fellow was covering her eggs somewhere 

 in the wood nearby. 



As we neared the top of the hill, suddenly a 

 new and delightful bird note greeted us. From 

 a tree-top above us up the slope, came the 

 "Sweet bird sing!" of a towhee; and what 

 sound could be more welcome? That three-note 

 call it can scarcely be called a song is to me 

 one of the most impressive of the woods. Like 

 the song of the veery thrush, it is rather an ex- 

 pression of feeling than a melody; but how much 

 soul is expressed in those two notes and the end- 

 ing, virbrant trill! Bird songs mean much or 

 little to the human listener, according as his 



