124 Bird -Lore 



peaches, and other small fruits would almost certainly be eaten by it, 

 and it is a greedy feeder. 



Another notable dweller of the Hawaiian woods is the Omao, the 

 only Island representative of the Thrush family. In some districts the 

 Omao is the shyest of all shy recluses, while in others it is quite familiar. 

 1 know of no possible explanation of this extraordinary change of dispo- 

 sition. But shy or familiar, it is never chary of its song and often sings 

 the day through. My English friends speak in high terms of the Omao's 

 song, and I regret that I cannot heartily subscribe to their encomiums. 



When really bent upon singing, the Omao perches upon the topmost 

 twig of a tall tree, and thence for an hour or more seems to challenge 

 the whole bird world to a musical contest. Its song consists of a series 

 of odd, disconnected syllables, now rapidly uttered, now with widely- 

 spaced measures, but always defying description. In this medley there 

 are occasional melodious fragments which suggest bits of our Brown 

 Thrasher's song, but at best they are the merest suggestion, and the 

 song as a whole is not for a moment to be compared with the poorest 

 effort of our olive -backed fraternity. In general method and efiect the 

 Omao's song is not dissimilar to the musical efiforts of our Chat (Icteria). 

 The Omao, however, has inspired moments, and I have seen a male 

 leave the top of a tall tree and circle about on wing, leaving behind a 

 trail of ecstatic song, the memory of which bids the critic pause. 



The ordinary call-note of the Omao is a deep and loud chuck, 

 neither like nor very unlike the notes of the Wood Thrush. Its alarm 

 note, uttered when the bird hears a suspicious noise, is a sort of sworl- 

 ing call that again is a little suggestive of our Catbird's familiar note. 



The Omao passes its life in the trees of the deep forest, pretty well 

 up, and I have never seen an individual on the ground. I have searched 

 carefully for the nest of the Omao, for the nest may have something to 

 tell of the bird's not over-clear relationship, but thus far without success. 



I must not forget to mention a very curious habit of the Omao. 

 He seems to be afflicted with chronic ague. Standing upright upon 

 a bough in a thrush -like attitude and drooping his wings, he shakes 

 them with a tremulous motion, precisely as young birds do when begging 

 for food from their parents. He is particularly prone to one of these 

 seizures when he sees an intruder, and at first I interpreted the ague to 

 be the result of nervousness or fright. But more than once I have 

 watched the Omao when he was wholly unaware of my presence, and 

 have caught him in the act of having a good shake all by himself. 

 What the performance means, if it means anything, only the Omao knows. 



In such a forest as above described, the Oo, prince among Hawaiian 

 birds, used to be common, but alas! the love of feathers is not confined 

 solely to women or to civilization. The old chiefs of Hawaii had to 



