Three Tragical Bird-Romances 



r 



the outcry that would surely follow an attack. 

 There are no bird's-nesting boys in this local- 

 ity, and few, if any, house-cats. I climbed to 

 the deserted nest this evening, and could see no 

 signs of a struggle, nor were there any eggs 

 or remnants of any ; yet the bird had been sit- 

 ting several days. Did she find herself unable 

 to produce eggs, and therefore abandoned the 

 nest? It is a mysterious outcome of a queer 

 little bird-romance. 



July 5. Father Wood-thrush never stays 

 close to his nest, and is rarely seen; but while 

 his mate is brooding, her golden mouth often 

 gasping for air during these hot, stagnant 

 days, he sits in a tree not far away and sings 

 almost continuously, and evidently to her alone. 

 It is not a loud, rollicking song, such as he still 

 sometimes gives in the cool of the morning, but 

 a low, fond and exceedingly melodious chant 

 a perfect lullaby, altogether outside of the pub- 

 lic repertoire of this virtuoso of the woods. It 

 is in four parts, the intervals five pulse-beats 

 in length. 



