168 OUT WITH THE BIRDS 



and somehow spoke low or in whispers as we lis- 

 tened to the evening noises of the woods. 



It was what I set down in my notes as a bird 

 evening, so dead calm and the woods so still that 

 the faintest whisper of a warbler or the " chink " 

 of a song sparrow could be heard plainly at a 

 wonderful distance. From every hand came the 

 lisping voices of the yellow warblers. As it was 

 their time of migration, doubtless many families 

 had taken shelter here for the day. Once, also, 

 a yellow-throat cousin tuned up and let go with 

 his '* Wichety-wichety-wichety " from some- 

 where low in the shrubbery. The " Cheenk" of 

 a water thrush sounded occasionally from the 

 margin of a dark pool where the little fellow 

 solemnly wagged his tail as he worked around 

 after his supper. Very probably he also was on 

 his southward way. Kingbird families in the 

 dry willow-tops, the youngsters all begging in 

 chorus for a final dragon-fly night-cap before 

 retiring, chattered noisily and almost incessantly; 

 the members of a catbird family mewed to each 

 other from the willows, while a song sparrow 

 sang a time or two and chinked away afterwards 

 that all had his approval and was well with the 

 world, 



