1 64 SPRING AT THE CAPITAL. 



on a bright May day, flying to and fro between two 

 spring runs, alighting at intermediate points, the male 

 breaking out into one of the most exuberant, unpre- 

 meditated strains I ever heard. Its song is a sudden 

 burst, beginning with three or four clear round notes 

 much resembling certain tones of the clarionet, and 

 terminating in a rapid, intricate warble. 



This bird resembles a thrush only in its color, which 

 is olive-brown above, and grayish-white beneath, with 

 speckled throat and breast. Its habits, manners, and 

 voice suggest those of the lark. 



I seldom go the Rock Creek route without being 

 amused and sometimes annoyed by the yellow-breasted 

 chat. This bird also has something of the manners 

 and build of the cat-bird, yet he is truly an original. 

 The cat-bird is mild .and feminine compared with this 

 rollicking polyglot. His voice is very loud and strong 

 and quite uncanny. No sooner have you penetrated 

 his retreat, which is usually a thick undergrowth in 

 low, wet localities, near the woods or in old fields, 

 than he begins his serenade, which for the variety, 

 grotesqueness, and uncouthness of the notes, is not un- 

 like a country skimmerton. If one passes directly 

 along, the bird may scarcely break the silence. But 

 pause awhile or loiter quietly about, and your presence 

 stimulates him to do his best. He peeps quizzically at 

 you from beneath the branches, and gives a sharp fe- 

 line mew. In a moment more he says very distinctly, 

 who, 7vho. Then in rapid succession follow notes the 



