242 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



these roots long strings of a clear, jelly-like substance flecked and 

 speckled with black. They were "frog eggs." They had recently 

 disappeared, hence the myriads of tadpoles. The Thrush continued 

 his journey around the edge of the pond to the waterfall, then, turning 

 without a pause, went tripping back up stream apparently intent only 

 on catching tadpoles. A slight unintentional movement on my part, 

 as he passed me, instantly caught his eye and he rose to the branches 

 above with a metallic "chip" of alarm. He sat there watching me first 

 with one eye, then the other, then both together, and bobbing, bowing, 

 wagging, teetering and uttering his sharp "chip" until he thoroughly 

 alarmed every bird within ear shot. Then he left. 



After a little while, when things had become quiet again, I saw a 

 little pedestrian coming down a pathway that led to the pond from 

 the cornfield. She seemed in an awful hurry, apparently more so as 

 she neared the water, covering the last six feet in a trot. She was a 

 Horned Lark, had doubtless been brooding her eggs in the sunken 

 nest up in the field since early morn, and had now come to relieve her 

 parched little throat. After satisfying her thirst she went back in a 

 very business like way picking up a seed occasionally by the wayside. 

 I watched her off, then, hearing a loud spluttering in the pond, turned 

 suddenly, catching a gleam of gold and green, as a Yellow-breasted 

 Chat beat a hasty retreat into the nearest thicket. Ah-ha, I had sur- 

 prised him in the midst of his bath. It was my turn to laugh now, and 

 I did, although I knew two black eyes were regarding me sullenly 

 from that thicket. But I could not see him and had to depend on my 

 imagination to picture him in his mortification at having the tables 

 turned. It was sometime before he could find his voice and then he 

 laughed, hooted, jeered, barked, gnacked, whistled, cackled and in fact 

 uttered every kind of sound imaginable and a whole lot that were not. 

 Then, wishing to get a better view of that wonderful creature that 

 could not be moved to show the slightest interest in his gifted vocal 

 powers, he flew up to a branch where I got a fine view of him and iden- 

 tified him for the first time. I saw a little bird about seven inches 

 long, olive green above and bright yellow below, and with a whitish 

 line over the eye. So this was the bird that had led me such a wild 

 goose chase, or chat chase as you please. This was the individual 

 who had so tired my patience and then laughed in my face. Well, I 

 should never forget the little Golden-throated Polyglot, I was sure of 

 that. 



A few days before while walking along an old unused roadway, at 

 the edge of the woods, I found a patch of skin with the feathers on, as 

 fine feathers as any I ever saw, bright golden yellow and pure olive 



