THE WOOD THRUSH. 



"With what a clear 

 And ravishing sweetness sang the plaintive Thrush ; 

 I love to hear his delicate rich voice, 

 Chaining through all the gloomv day, when loud 

 Amid the trees i:- dropping the big rain. 

 And gray mists wrap the hill ; foraj'e th<' sweeter 

 His so::tr is when the day is sad and daik." 



O many common names 

 has the Wood Thrush 

 that he would seem to be 

 quite well known to every 

 one. Some call him the 

 Bell Thrush, others Bell Bird, others 

 again Wood Robin, and the French 

 Canadians, who love his delicious 

 song, Greve des Bois and Merle Taune. 

 In spite of all this, however, and 

 although a common species through- 

 out the temperate portions of eastern 

 North America, the Wood Thrush can 

 hardly be said to be a well-known bird 

 in the same sense as the Robin, the 

 Cat-bird, or other more familiar 

 species ; " but to every inhabitant of 

 rural districts his song, at least, is 

 known, since it is of such a character 

 that no one with the slightest appre- 

 ciation of harmony can fail to be 

 impressed by it." 



Some writers maintain that the 

 Wood Thrush has a song of a richer 

 and more melodious tone than that of 

 any other American bird ; and that, 

 did it possess continuity, would be 

 incomparable. 



Damp woodlands and shaded dells 

 are favorite haunts of this Thrush, but 

 on some occasions he will take up his 

 residence in parks within large cities. 

 He is not a shy bird, yet it is not often 

 that he ventures far from the wild 

 wood of his preference. 



The nest is commonly built upon a 

 horizontal branch of a low tree, from 

 six to ten — rarely much more — feet from 

 the ground. The eggs are from three 

 to five in number, of a uniform 

 greenish color; thus, like the nest, 

 resembling those of the Robin, except 

 that thev are smaller. 



In spite of the fact that his name 

 indicates his preference for the woods, 

 we have seen this Thrush, in parks and 

 gardens, his brown back and spotted 

 breast making him unmistakable as 

 he hops over the grass for a few yards, 

 and pauses to detect the movement of 

 a worm, seizing it vigorously a moment 

 after. 



He eats ripening fruits, especially 

 strawberries and gooseberries, but no 

 bird can or does destroy so many 

 snails, and he is much less an enemy 

 than a friend of the gardener. It 

 would be well if our park commis- 

 sioners would plant an occasional fruit 

 tree — cherry, apple, and the like— in 

 the public parks, protecting them from 

 the ravages of every one except the 

 birds, for whose sole benefit they 

 should be set aside. The trees would 

 also serve a double purpose of orna- 

 ment and use, and the youth who 

 grow up in the city, and rarely ever 

 see an orchard, would become familiar 

 with the appearance of fruit trees. 

 The birds would annually increase in 

 numbers, as they would not only be 

 attracted to the parks thereby, but 

 they would build their nests and rear 

 their young under far more favorable 

 conditions than now exist. The criti- 

 cism that birds are too largely de- 

 stroyed by hunters should be supple- 

 mented by the complaint that they 

 are also allowed to perish for want of 

 food, especially in seasons of unusual 

 scarcity or severity. Food should be 

 scattered through the parks at proper 

 times, nesting boxes provided — not a 

 few, but many — and then 



The happy mother of every brool 

 Will twitter notes of gr.ititud . 



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