AUGUST DAYS 



song sparrow and the oriole. The real August song- 

 ster, and the bird that one comes to associate with 

 the slow, drowsy days, is the indigo-bird. After 

 midsummer its song, delivered from the top of some 

 small tree in the pasture or a bushy field, falls upon 

 the ear with a peculiar languid, midsummery effect. 

 The boys and girls gathering raspberries and black- 

 berries hear it ; the stroller through the upland fields, 

 or lounger in the shade of maple or linden, probably 

 hears no bird-song but this, if he even distinguishes 

 this from the more strident insect voices. The plum- 

 age of the bird is more or less faded by this time, 

 the vivid indigo of early June is lightly brushed with 

 a dull sooty shade, but the song is nearly as full as 

 the earlier strain, and in the dearth of bird voices is 

 even more noticeable. I do not now recall that any 

 of our poets have embalmed this little cerulean song- 

 ster in their verse. 



One may also occasionally hear the red-eyed vireo 

 in August, but it is low tide with him too. His song 

 has a reminiscent air, like that of the indigo. The 

 whip-poor-will calls fitfully in this month, and may 

 be heard even in September; but he quickly checks 

 himself, as if he knew it was out of season. In the 

 Adirondacks I have heard the speckled Canada 

 warbler in August, and the white-throated sparrow. 

 But nearly all the migratory birds begin to get rest- 

 less during this month. They cut loose from their 

 nesting-haunts and drift through the woods in pro- 



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