THE AUDUBON'S WARBLER, 



{Dendroica auduboni.) 



Audubon's Warbler bears the same re- 

 lation to the Western United States that 

 the myrtle warbler bears to the Eastern 

 States. It inhabits the forests and thick- 

 ets of the West from British Columbia 

 southward as far as Guatemala in win- 

 ter. And, as Dr. Coues has stated, it has 

 rarely been known to pass to the east- 

 ward beyond the line of arboreal vege- 

 tation, which marks the easternmost foot- 

 hills and outlying elevations of the Rocky 

 Mountains. 



During its migrations it is often asso- 

 ciated with the titmouse and the ruby- 

 crowned kinglet. It may be seen skip- 

 ping about in the tree tops, actively en- 

 gaged in searching for insects, which it 

 will at times pursue in the air. It may 

 be readily distinguished from the myrtle 



warbler, which it so closely resembles 

 both in habits and actions, by its yellow 

 instead of white throat, which is charac- 

 teristic of the myrtle warbler. 



Its nest is usually built in cone-bearing 

 trees at a variable altitude of from three 

 to thirty feet. These homes are neatly 

 woven and usually constructed of fine 

 strips of bark, pine needles and twigs. 

 They are lined with fine roots, bark 

 fibers, hair and feathers. In Colorado 

 it is known to breed on the mountain 

 sides at an altitude of nine or ten thou- 

 sand feet. 



The habits of this little warbler are 

 well portrayed by Mrs. Whitman: 



The little bird upon the hillside lonely, 

 Flits noiselessly along from spray to spray. 



THE SING-AWAY BIRD. 



Have you ever heard of the sing-away bird, 

 That sings where the run-away river 



Runs down with its rills from the bald-headed hills 

 That stand in the sunshine and shiver? 

 Oh, sing, sing away, sing away! 



How the pines and the birches are stirred 



By the trill of the sing-away bird ! 



And beneath the glad sun, every glad-hearted one 

 Sets the world to the tune of its gladness; 



The swift rivers sing it, the wild breezes wing it, 

 Till earth loses thought of her sadness. 

 Oh, sing, sing away, sing away! 



Oh, sing, happy soul, to joy's giver — 



Sing on, by Time's run-away river. 



Lucy Larcom, 



158 



