52 THE QUEST OF A THRUSH 



cases the mystery is a mystery still, and the 

 tantalizing notes haunt me yet. In one in- 

 stance it was a wild ringing song, resembling 

 that of the winter wren, heard years ago on 

 the coast of Maine ; another was a strange 

 monologue, half song, half talk, heard in the 

 early morning before I could get to the win- 

 dow, in the western part of the same state. 

 Neither of these was ever traced to its 

 source. 



Generally, however, I have been more 

 fortunate. Three years of watching were re- 

 quired to become somewhat familiar with the 

 domestic life of the veery, or tawny thrush, 

 though much yet remains to be discovered, 

 and three more have passed in quest of an- 

 other of the beguiling family, the olive- 

 backed or Swainson's thrush. Nor am I yet 

 satisfied ; I am still in pursuit. 



The search began two years before the 

 chronicle of the preceding chapter, in a 

 rather wild part of the Pine-Tree State. 

 Out of a piece of wood at some distance 

 from the farmhouse where I was staying, and 

 separated from it by an impassable swamp, 

 came one evening a loud call in the peculiar 



