STEARNS WILD BIRDS IN CITY PARKS 31 1 



Here comes one, though not a warbler. We cannot mistake him, 

 however, as with flash of white and gleam of red, he pops down 

 upon a branch and — peck, peck goes his saucy scarlet head, for 

 he is the red-headed woodpecker with white belly and great white 

 patches on his wings which are daintily edged with black, to match 

 his shoulders . There were many of these handsome fellows through- 

 out the park, darting here and there, hammering along trunk and 

 branch, or lying flat to sun themselves. 



But look— quick — your glasses! What is that large bird, 

 winging his way from, the lake? There is something trailing 

 behind him — 



"His long legs, of course," comes the verdict, "that is a heron." 



Very good, but let us on to that nook where we saw the merry 

 juncos, weeks before. Scarcely were we started when, coming 

 up over the side of a knoll, we saw a flash of color. Had a bit 

 of bluest sky dropped to the grass? 



The glasses again — is it a blue-bird, like that we had seen 

 down by the museum? 



No, there is no red breast, but look at the beautiful bronze- 

 brown wings, in striking contrast to the deep, almost indigo 

 blue of the back, breast and head — all blue, except for bronze 

 wings and tail, glistening in the sun. See how graceful that 

 curve of his head and neck, so slender, as he holds them, erect, 

 looking for insects! There were a "flock of him," for we soon 

 saw many more. We wrote it all down, our hearts a-dance, 

 and found him. in the book, when we got home, — the indigo bunt- 

 ing. We saw a "lady bunting," too, with olive-brown back and 

 light olive or buffy-whitish, underneath. 



Our heads were constantly upward turned, now, and soon a 

 more modest bird was seen. Him we recognized at once as the 

 black-throated gray warbler, his head, throat and chest black, 

 with white streaks on the sides, pure white on the under part 

 of him, white streaks on his sides, and the back gray, black- 

 streaked. On the wings, also, are two white bars, a streaked fellow, 

 surely, and easily recognized, when once you have m.adc his 

 acquaintance. 



But what is that peculiar whistle— not a robin, not a black- 

 bird? On we crept, very softly, locating his tree, following to 

 the next, when he flew, until we could be sure of liim. a thrush. 



