314 The Towhee 



the abodes of man during the period when it has no pressing domestic 

 duties and responsibilities. When nesting-time arrives, therefore, it is 

 best to seek for it along hedge- rows, or beside old fences half concealed 

 by shrubbery, from the depths of which it will announce its presence by 

 its sharp, clear cry chewink. Abandoned fields, where briers and bushes 

 have sprung up, are also favorite abiding places for the Towhee. 



One summer day, as a member of a Harvard botany class, I journeyed 

 some miles out of Cambridge, and afoot began a rather laborious climb 

 up the somewhat steeply sloping side of Blue Hill. As we advanced, the 

 trees decreased steadily in size until, perhaps three-fourths of the way 



to the top, they became so scraggy that in many places 

 Its Song they had much the aspect of bushes. This change in 



the condition of the vegetation must have been due 

 largely to the poor quality of the soil, as the altitude was not great. We 

 studied many plants that day, many of which I have forgotten, but I do 

 remember with great distinctness the songs of Towhees, which with 

 marvelous clearness rang from the topmost bough of many a stunted 

 tree. 



This is the kind of situation it invariably occupies when singing. 

 The Nightingale may sing from the depths of its myrtle-bush, the Veery 

 from the bough of its favorite oak, and the Gnatcatcher from its nest, 

 but, like the Winter Wren and the Nonpareil, the Towhee must occupy 

 the highest twig of its chosen sapling or bush, before it flings to the 

 summer winds the melody of its notes. Its song is not a remarkable 

 performance when compared with the singing of many birds, but it is 

 vigorous and appealing. The song of the Towhee is the passionate cry 

 of a love-sick bird, who will not take "no" for an answer. Ernest 

 Thompson Seton has told us what it says. He asserts that the bird 

 plainly shouts, chuck-burr, pill-a-will-a-will-a. 



The Towhee's nest is often situated on the ground, though sometimes 

 we may find it in shrubs or low bushes. Even when built in a bush it is 



always near the earth ; in fact I have never found one 

 The Nest at more than a foot of elevation. It is usually made 



of a collection of dead leaves, strips of grape-vine or 

 other bark, and occasionally a few twigs. The lining appears always to 

 be made of fine, dead grasses. It is not covered over like the nest of 

 the Bob-white, 'Meadowlark, Oven-bird, and some other ground-nesting 

 species, and is protected from the rays of the sun and the eyes of the 

 curious only by the twigs and leaves of the bush in which it is hidden. 

 Although fairly ample in size, it is in reality rather a frailly built cradle, 

 and usually goes to pieces during the rains of autumn or in the winter 

 storms. 



As may be noticed from the accompanying colored illustration, the 

 female is less highly colored than her mate. This is the case with a 

 great many kinds of birds, and it would appear that when kind Nature 

 made them, she had in mind the fact that the mother-bird would do 

 most of the brooding; and that while on the nest her somewhat duller 



