122 IN BIRD LAND. 



lengthened out the gloaming and added many 

 precious minutes to the singing hours of the birds. 

 Such a woodland chorus as I was permitted to 

 listen to that evening ! It was a rare privilege. 

 How the wood-thrushes vied with the towhee 

 buntings ! Which would sing the latest ? That 

 seemed to be the question. At length there were 

 several moments of silence, and I supposed all the 

 birds had gone to sleep, when a white-throated 

 sparrow and a wood-pewee struck in with their 

 sweet strains ; and so the chorus continued until 

 it was really night. The wood-thrushes, I think, 

 got in the last note of the twilight serenade. 



Before it had become quite dark, I espied a 

 wood-thrush sitting in the fork of a dogwood-tree, 

 looking at me in a startled way ; but she did not 

 fly. I walked off some distance, remained awhile, 

 and then returned, to find her still in her place. 

 Then I strolled about until night had fully come ; 

 the moon shone brightly, so that it was not dark. 

 When I went back to the dogwood-tree, the 

 speckled breast of the thrush was still visible in 

 the fork which she had chosen for her bed-chamber, 

 and I wished her pleasant dreams. 



While stalking about, I startled another wood- 

 thrush, which had selected a loose brush-heap on 

 the ground instead of a sapling or tree for a roost. 

 The indigo-birds and bush-sparrows flew up from 

 the blackberry bushes as I pushed my way through 

 them. Several times the towhee buntings leaped 

 scolding out of bed, having selected brush-heaps, 



