October Bird Music 153 



she continued to do as long as I was near the young. She slipped around 

 to the side and tried to attract my attention and get me away from the 

 place where the young were; all this time they lay perfectly still, with their 

 eyes nearly closed, as may be seen by referring to photograph No. 5. They 

 did not stick their heads under foliage or leaves, as young Grouse do when 

 hiding, but simply dropped flat with bill extended, as seen in the photographs. 

 However, if one was touched or moved, as soon as freed it ran away about 

 three feet, dropped to the ground for an instant and repeated this per- 

 formance until out of sight. 



At my second visit, the young lay only until all was quiet, then rose up 

 and skulked away; the old bird did not tiuut except just as she flew up, 

 but simply feigned injury at first and then sneaked to cover. 



October Bird Music 



By EARLE STAFFORD 



OCTOBER, as regards the birds, may be justly termed an unmusical 

 month. Not only have most of the songsters departed, but very 

 few of the remaining ones favor us with their voices. Even at this 

 time, however, when the first frosts whiten the meadows at sunrise, and 

 the oak woods are in dull splendor, snatches of welcome melody may be 

 heard to cheer the heart. 



There is no bird, I believe, that is utterly silent during the month. 

 The call-notes are necessary means of communication, throughout any 

 season, but the song — that expression of an emotion not fully understood — 

 is seldom heard from many of the birds, either residents or migrants. The 

 Hermit Thrush, silent, dignified, passes through with scarce a word. He 

 mounts from the dry leaves of a thicket to a swaying branch, and quietly 

 observes us, perhaps giving a low chuck, as an indication of his annoyance. 

 How dififerent, too, the familiar Song Sparrow now skulking shyly among 

 the weeds, from the same merry herald of spring ! The season has affected 

 his character, and when he does occasionally rise from his retreat and give his 

 familiar ditty, or, as a substitute, a prolonged warble, it appears to be for his 

 own consolation rather than for the pleasure of the world. The jolly Tree 

 Sparrows arriving in the middle of the month are of a different mood ; the 

 drifting leaves and the biting north wind cause them no sorrow, while the 

 fields and gardens are bountiful with a rich repast. No wonder October is 

 a month of Finches. In company with the Tree Sparrows are Juncos, 

 White-throats and Song Sparrows, and they spend the clear days among 

 the thicket and goldenrod patches, busy with the multitude of seeds which 

 nature has spread for them. The Tree Sparrows have a social jingling 



