Tue ZooLocist—Avucust, 1876. 5015 
Of the winter wren (dnorthura Troglodyles, var. hiemalis), the 
Doctor quotes as follows :— 
“The song of the winter wren excels that of any other bird of its size 
with which I am acquainted. It is truly musical, full of cadence, energetic 
and melodious; its very continuance is surprising, and dull indeed must be 
the ear that thrills not on hearing it. When emitted, as it often is, from 
the dark depths of the unwholesome swamps, it operates so powerfully on 
the mind, that it by contrast inspires a feeling of wonder and delight, and 
on such occasions has impressed me with a sense of the guoduess of the 
Almighty Creator, who has rendered every spot of earth in some way 
subservient to the welfare of His creatures.” 
The Missouri sky lark (Neocorys Spraguez) appears to have the 
same habits as our English favourite :— 
“Rising from the nest, or from its grassy bed, this plain-looking little 
bird, clad in the simplest colours, and making but a speck in the boundless 
expanse, mounts straight up on tremulous wings till lost to view in the blue 
ether, and then sends back to earth a song of gladness that seems to come 
from the sky itself to cheer the weary, give hope to the disheartened, and 
turn the most indifferent, for the moment at least, from sordid thoughts.” 
The mourning warbler (Geothlypis Philadelphia), Townsend’s 
fly-catching thrush (Myiadestes Townsendii), the purple finch 
(Carpodacus purpureus), the bay-winged bunting (Pooecetus gra- 
mineus), and the fox-sparrow (Passerella iliaca), are some of the 
other favourites of the American wilds. We must quote a de- 
scription of the song of one of these, the bay-winged bunting :— 
“ The charming song of the ‘ vesper-bird’ has been fittingly described by 
one of the most enthusiastic and agreeable of writers upon birds,—I mean 
John Burroughs,—in his welcome little volume entitled “ Wake Robin.’ 
‘Have you heard the song of the field sparrow?’ he asks. ‘If you have 
lived in a pastoral country, with broad upland pastures, you could hardly 
have missed him. Wilson, I believe, calls him the grass-finch, and was 
evidently unacquainted with his powers of song. The two white lateral 
quills of his tail, and his habit of running and skulking a few yards in 
advance of you as you walk through the fields, are sufficient to identify him. 
Not in meadows or orchards, but in high, breezy pasture-grounds, will you 
look for him. His song is most noticeable after sundown, when other birds 
are silent, for which reason he has been aptly called the vesper sparrow. 
The farmer following his team from the field at dusk catches his sweetest 
strain. His song is not so brisk and varied as that of the song sparrow, 
