IN THE HEMLOCKS 



and softly, and disperse through the trees. I shoot 

 one, which is of a tawny red tint, like that figured 

 by Wilson. It is a singular fact that the plumage 

 of these owls presents two totally distinct phases, 

 which "have no relation to sex, age, or season," 

 one being an ashen gray, the other a bright rufous. 



Coming to a drier and less mossy place in the 

 woods, I am amused with the golden-crowned 

 thrush, which, however, is no thrush at all, but 

 a warbler. He walks on the ground ahead of 

 me with such an easy, gliding motion, and with 

 such an unconscious, preoccupied air, jerking his 

 head like a hen or a partridge, now hurrying, now 

 slackening his pace, that I pause to observe him. 

 I sit down, he pauses to observe me, and extends 

 his pretty ramblings on all sides, apparently very 

 much engrossed with his own affairs, but never los- 

 ing sight of me. But few of the birds are walkers, 

 most being hoppers, like the robin. 



Satisfied that I have no hostile intentions, the 

 pretty pedestrian mounts a limb a few feet from the 

 ground, and gives me the benefit of one of his musi- 

 cal performances, a sort of accelerating chant. Com- 

 mencing in a very low key, which makes him seem 

 at a very uncertain distance, he grows louder and 

 louder till his body quakes and his chant runs into 

 a shriek, ringing in my ear with a peculiar sharp- 

 ness. This lay may be represented thus : " Teacher, 

 teacher, TEACHER, TEACHER, TEACHER!" 

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