200 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 



sunlight shimmers through the young hemlocks, 

 a friendly kree-ah from a bush near by will pre- 

 pare you for the low song that trills in descend- 

 ing scale through the cool morning air, and breaks 

 the hush of sunrise, as one after another of the 

 peaceful songsters takes it up and carries it along. 



In this swamp, on the soft decayed wood in the 

 top of an old stump, five or six feet from the 

 ground, one of the veeries' nests was found, and 

 I think that careful search might have revealed 

 others. But although such places seem best 

 suited to their tastes, I have found a nest in a lo- 

 cality as dissimilar as could be imagined. It was 

 on the edge of a raspberry patch where the sun 

 beat down nearly all day long. The nest was de- 

 serted when I found it. Such a pretty structure 

 as it was ! Within a foot or so of the ground, 

 wedged in between the sides of a young beech, it 

 was made almost entirely of old leaves, and com- 

 pletely disguised by the crisp brown ones still 

 clinging to the twigs. The lining was of dead 

 leaves, roots, and stems. The four eggs were a 

 beautiful, unspotted, robin's-egg blue. What a 

 pity it seemed that such an attractive little home 

 should be broken up ! Who will ever know its 

 tragedy! Perhaps the lonely father bird still 

 haunts the woods mourning for his little mate ! 



In his own quiet way, the veery is a peculiarly 

 sociable bird. So, although his song is the least 

 remarkable of the three thrushes, his conversa- 



