CHE WINK. 11? 



raspberry stem and looking at me over his shoul- 

 der, is a handsome male chewink. What a beauty ! 

 His back is bbck and his sides match the crisp 

 curled beech leaves that color the wood paths in 

 fall. He whisks his tail back and forth, and opens 

 and shuts it as a nervous beauty toys with her fan, 

 so disclosing the white feathers that border it and 

 the white triangles on the corners. But before I 

 can put pencil to note-book he has disappeared. I 

 spy about in all directions, get down on my knees 

 to peer through the raspberry bushes, and tiptoe 

 along, ogling all the white-throats that light on the 

 fence but never a glimpse do I get of him. 



Then suddenly he appears on top of a fence 

 facing me ; but as I look down he hops among 

 the ferns, and as I screen myself behind a tree 

 for a better view when he shall fly up again, a low 

 cheree-ak-ree reaches me, and I see him on the 

 fence several rods away! He looks up to the 

 trees, raising and lowering his cap, with the odd 

 effect of rounding or flattening his head, and then, 

 deciding in favor of brambles, jumps off into the 

 bushes again. 



And so I follow him for three or four hours, 

 trying every device to keep near without letting 

 him take fright, stepping on moss or walking 

 along the trunks of fallen trees to avoid the crack- 

 ling sound of the leaves, stopping to listen for his 

 soft cheree-ah-ree, getting down to look through 

 the bare stems of the bushes for him, and, if I see 



