THE BROWN THRASHER 17 



It is a performance worth buying a ticket for 

 and going miles to hear ; but it is to be heard 

 without price on the outskirts of almost any vil- 

 lage in the United States east of the Rocky 

 Mountains and south of Maine. You must go 

 out at the right time, however, for the bird sings 

 but a few weeks in the year, although he remains 

 in New England almost six months, or till the 

 middle of October. He is one of the birds that 

 every one should know, since it is perfectly easy 

 to identify him ; and once known, he is never to 

 be forgotten, or to be confounded with anything 

 else. 



The thrasher's nest is a rude, careless-looking 

 structure, made of twigs, roots, and dry leaves, 

 and is to be looked for on the ground, or in a 

 bush not far above it. Often it has so much the 

 appearance of a last year's affair that one is 

 tempted to pass it as unworthy of notice. I have 

 been fooled in that way more than once. 



The bird sits close, as the saying is, and as 

 she stares at you with her yellow eyes, full at 

 once of courage and fear, you will need a hard 

 heart to disturb her. Sometimes she will really 

 show fight, and she has been known to drive a 

 small boy off the field. Her whistle after she 

 has been frightened from her eggs or nestlings 

 is one of the most pathetic sounds in nature. I 



