higher situations. The Baltimore oriole, 

 chat, bobolink, meadowlark, and song 

 sparrow, and occasionally the indigo 

 bunting, prairie horned lark, ovenbird, 

 Louisiana water thrush, and Maryland 

 yellowthroat sing on the wing. Court- 

 ship is the primal motive here. The 

 prairie horned lark and bob-white sing 

 on the ground. Robins are familiar 

 singers on house roofs. As to telegraph 

 wires — ^^robins, song sparrows, indigo 

 buntings, catbirds, chipping sparrows, 

 bluebirds, and phoebes are often seen 

 singing there ; and occasionally I have 

 found the wood thrush so far forget his 

 dignity. Many birds are partial to the 

 high dead branches of living trees ; such 

 are the indigo buntings, Carolina wren, 

 cardinal, crested flycatcher, cowbird, 

 meadowlark (in spring), red-winged 

 blackbird, pewee, kingbird, thrashers, et 

 cetera. The flycatchers have especially 

 good motives, as they use these situa- 

 tions as points from which to sally. 



The frequency of the song is also an 

 interesting point. As a rule, if the song 

 is long, there are fewer repetitions per 

 minute than if it is short. Five times per 

 minute seems to be the song sparrow's 

 average. On a quiet June evening I lis- 

 tened to a vesper sparrow's inspiring 

 notes ; his song averaged seven times to 

 the minute. 



Imagine a meadow that contains about 

 six song sparrows and six vesper spar- 



rows. Together, one of each species sings 

 twelve times per minute and six of each 

 seventy-two times per minute. In five 

 minutes, then, we shall have heard three 

 hundred and sixty songs from these two 

 species alone ! 



The maximum number of repetitions 

 is given, I believe, by the short-songed 

 whippoorwill, fifty-nine times per min- 

 ute being his average. Generally he be- 

 gins to sing about 8:00 p. m. and for a 

 half hour at least continues almost unin- 

 terruptedly. This means three thousand 

 five hundred and forty repetitions in that 

 brief time, including the almost inaudible 

 ''cluck" that precedes the song ; he sings 

 in a single hour seventeen thousand seven 

 hundred notes. We are prone to won- 

 der where he gets the breath for that 

 effort. 



We often speak about certain songs 

 having a "woodsy" flavor, and of others 

 that are "songs of the pasture." This is 

 because in most cases there is a subtle 

 harmony between the song and its sur- 

 roundings. Imagine, who can, a veery, 

 instead of rolling out his ethereal strains 

 while in a pensive, meditative mood, 

 sing while gyrating in aerial evolutions ! 

 Take the demure wood pewee into the 

 city and he loses half of his charm ; and 

 the wood thrush beside a city "artery" 

 (where I have heard him) is very dif- 

 ferent from the wood thrush of the 

 woods.' Norman Foerster. 



THE MERTENSIA 



In a dingle moist and chilly, 

 Habitation of the lily, 

 Underneath the frowning hill, 

 Where the crystal spring-drops spill, 

 Just beyond the flowing river, 

 Where the willows bend and quiver, 

 So, the blue Virginia flower. 

 With the fronded ferns and grasses, 

 And the perfumed zephyr passes. 

 Through the aisles of Sylva's bower : 

 Purely blue, the clustering bells. 

 Emulates and oft excels 

 The cerulean depths of morning, 

 Nature's tangled wilds adorning, 

 Where the twilight, moist and chilly. 

 Gathers round the vestal lily. 



— Charles F. Fudge. 



