82 BIRDS OP THE WEST 



NORTHERN YELLOWTHROAT. 



The greatest pleasure that comes from bird study is the con- 

 stant surprise that awaits you. I was once studying a cat bird 

 that evidently thought that I was on forbidden ground and was 

 doing his best to frighten me away, when I literally felt the 

 presence of a then invisible spectator. Presently I glanced down 

 at the root of the willowy underbrush before me and saw a pair 

 of bright eyes no bigger than tiny beads fastened upon me. I 

 had never seen the little bird before and it seemed at first as 

 though he were a little outlaw, for across his eyes he wore a 

 black mask, which, however, did not conceal his look of suspi- 

 cion. He was only a little detective, hiding there to see what I 

 was doing. As soon as he saw that I had discovered him, he darted 

 away, but not very far, so I followed him, only to find that he 

 was leading me by easy stages away from his sphere of living. 

 After I had made my notes of his personal appearance I retired, 

 thinking that perhaps he would cease his orders for me to ''quit* 

 quit! quit!" and would give vent to his joy at my departure. I 

 was soon rewarded by his joyous song, "Witchity, witchity, 

 witchity," which is now all that I need to hear, that I may know 

 that there is a northern yellowthroat nearby. Either his little 

 black mask or his buoyant song will serve to tell him from the 

 large family of warblers that come north during the month of 

 May. I think it is always hard for a beginner to tell the warblers 

 apart and the sparrows, too. There are so many kinds and they 

 are all so much alike. It is nearly always easy to say "That is 

 a warbler" or "That is a sparrow," but it is not so easy to tell 

 just which sparrow or warbler it is. You will know the yellow- 

 throat at once, for he has all the delicacy and refinement of the 

 warbler family. He is neat and aristocratic, active, mostly yellow 

 and wholly lovable. The sparrows are usually quite plain, com- 

 mon and democratic and just as lovable, excepting always, our 

 English cousins, the little tyrants. 



The northern yellowthroat^ is the little bird that, in the east 

 where the skunk cabbage grows, actually builds his nest in the 

 very heart of it, for its enemies would hardly care to approach 

 that horrid weed. Some have claimed that the yellowthroat can- 

 not smell, but it is safer, I think, to say that the very alert little 



