A SUMMER AT HOME. 197 



to identify the birds to which he referred. In the case 

 of the wren, there seems to me a longer series of 

 considerably varied notes, and the sparrow's song is as 

 marked as an oriole's. I began to think, because plants 

 were voiceless, botanists had no ears. 



Illogical mortals we, verily ! Having concluded it 

 could not be done, we continued to try. Our last effort, 

 whatever may be thought of the result, was the most 

 elaborate. Taking our stands at a considerable distance 

 from each other, but equally distant from the bird, we 

 listened carefully to the same rose-breasted grosbeak, 

 which sang without stopping for just three minutes — 

 which is an unusually long time for any bird to con- 

 tinue in song. 



Except that I used " ph " and " t," as the initial con- 

 sonants, where he used "ch" and "d," we were in ac- 

 cord, using in every instance the same vowels. We con- 

 cluded that possibly the following might be recognized 

 as the song of this incomparable performer, Ku-hu^ ta- 

 wee-a, ta-wee-a ! Chee-che-wee-a ! Phee-ta-td-wee-a ! 



While discussing the matter in a general way, as we 

 entered the yard, and admitting it was strange that in 

 apparently so simple a matter people could not agree, a 

 Carolina wren screamed at us, curi ous, curi ous, curious / 

 We agreed that it was. 



June 12. — My rambles brought me to the mucky 

 meadow, and while gathering the beautiful broad leaves 

 of the arum, I chanced upon the nest of a pair of least 

 bitterns. Such finds make red-letter days. The nest 

 itself was a loosely woven mat of twigs and grass, yet 



