IN THE HEMLOCKS 41 



He is one of our most common and widely dis- 

 tributed birds. Approach any forest at any hour 

 of the day, in any kind of weather, from May to 

 August, in any of the Middle or Eastern districts, 

 and the chances are that the first note you hear will 

 be his. Rain or shine, before noon or after, in the 

 deep forest or in the village grove, when it is too 

 hot for the thrushes or too cold and windy for the 

 warblers, it is never out of time or place for this 

 little minstrel to indulge his cheerful strain. In 

 the deep wilds of the Adirondacks, where few birds 

 are seen and fewer heard, his note was almost con- 

 stantly in my ear. Always busy, making it a point 

 never to suspend for one moment his occupation to 

 indulge his musical taste, his lay is that of industry 

 and contentment. There is nothing plaintive or 

 especially musical in his performance, but the senti- 

 ment expressed is eminently that of cheerfulness. 

 Indeed, the songs of most birds have some human 

 significance, which, I think, is the source of the 

 delight we take in them. The song of the bobolink 

 to me expresses hilarity; the song sparrow's, faith; 

 the bluebird's, love; the catbird's, pride; the white- 

 eyed flycatcher's, self-consciousness; that of the 

 hermit thrush, spiritual serenity: while there is 

 something military in the call of the robin. 



The red-eye is classed among the flycatchers by 

 some writers, but is much more of a worm- eater, 

 and has few of the traits or habits of the Muscicapa 

 or the true Sylvia. He resembles somewhat the 

 warbling vireo, and the two birds are often con- 



