RIFE WITH BIRDS. 153 



parents sang were cheerful and engaging, in spite of 

 the fact that some critic has pronounced the min- 

 strelsy of the warbling vireo tiresome. Tiresome, 

 forsooth ! Truth to tell, the more closely you listen 

 to it the sweeter it grows. All day long, from peep 

 of dawn to evening twilight, those quaint, continuous 

 lays could be heard, now subdued and desultory, 

 now almost as vigorous as a robin's carol. 



It sometimes seemed as if the vireos and orchard 

 orioles were rival vocalists. If so, a prize should be 

 awarded to both, — to the vireos for persistency, for 

 never letting up ; to the orioles for richness and 

 melody of tone. Many a rollicking two-part con- 

 cert they gave. 



But there were other voices frequently heard in 

 the chorus, though not so continuously as those of 

 the birds just mentioned. A song-sparrow, which 

 had built a dainty cot in a bush not two rods from 

 the veranda, sometimes trilled an interlude of en- 

 trancing sweetness, taking the bays for real tuneful- 

 ness from every rival. Then, to my surprise, a 

 Maryland yellow-throat, shy little fellow in other 

 places, would frequently sing his heart out in the 

 small trees and silver maples of the front yard. He 

 did not fly off or discontinue his song when an 

 auditor stood right beneath his perch, but would 

 throw back his masked head, distend his golden 

 throat, and deHver his trill to his own and every- 

 body else's satisfaction. Very often, too, the indigo- 

 bird, just returned from a bath in the cerulean 

 depths, would enrich the harmony with the most 



