WILD LIFE ABOUT MY CABIN 



quently heard a fine burst of melody that was new 

 to me. One June day I was fortunate enough to 

 see the bird dehvering its song in the air above the 

 low trees. As with the oven-bird, its favorite hour 

 is the early twilight, though I hear the song occa- 

 sionally at other hours. The bird darts upward fifty 

 feet or more, about half the height that the oven- 

 bird attains, and gives forth a series of rapid, ring- 

 ing musical notes, which quickly glide into the long, 

 sparrow-like trill that forms its ordinary workaday 

 song. While this part is being uttered, the singer is 

 on its downward flight into the woods. The flight- 

 song of the oven-bird is louder and more striking, 

 and is not so shy and furtive a performance. The 

 latter I hear many times every June twilight, and I 

 frequently see the singer reach his climax a hundred 

 feet or more in the air, and then mark his arrow-like 

 flight downward. I have heard this song also in the 

 middle of the night near my cabin. At such times it 

 stands out on the stillness like a bursting rocket on 

 the background of the night. 



One or two mornings in April, at a very early 

 hour, I am quite sure to hear the hermit thrush 

 singing in the bushes near my window. How 

 quickly I am transported to the Delectable Moun- 

 tains and to the mossy solitudes of the northern 

 woods! The winter wren also pauses briefly in his 

 northern journey, and surprises and delights my 

 ear with his sudden lyrical burst of melody. Such 



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