Brown, Olive or Grayish Brown, and Brown and Gray Sparrowy Birds 



One of the shatterings of childish impressions that age too 

 often brings is when we learn by the books that our "merry 

 brown thrush " is no thrush at all, but a thrasher — first cousin to 

 the wrens, in spite of his speckled breast, large size, and certain 

 thrush-like instincts, such as never singing near the nest and 

 shunning mankind in the nesting season, to mention only two. 

 Certainly his bold, swinging flight and habit of hopping and run- 

 ning over the ground would seem to indicate that he is not very 

 far removed from the true thrushes. But he has one undeniable 

 wren-like trait, that of twitching, wagging, and thrashing his 

 long tail about to help express his emotions. It swings like a 

 pendulum as he rests on a branch, and thrashes about in a most 

 ludicrous way as he is feeding on the ground upon the worms, 

 insects, and fruit that constitute his diet. 



Before the fatal multiplication of cats, and in unfrequented, 

 sandy locations still, the thrasher builds her nest upon the ground, 

 thus earning the name "ground thrush" that is often given her ; 

 but with dearly paid-for wisdom she now most frequently selects 

 a low shrub or tree to cradle the two broods that all too early 

 in the summer effectually silence the father's delightful song. 



Wilson's Thrush 



( Turdus fuscescens) Thrush family 



Called also: VEERY; TAWNY THRUSH 



Length — 7 to 7.5 inches. About one-fourth smaller than the 

 robin. 



Male and Female — Uniform olive-brown, with a tawny cast above. 

 Centre of the throat white, with cream-buff on sides of 

 throat and upper part of breast, which is lightly spotted with 

 wedge-shaped, brown points. Underneath white, or with 

 a faint grayish tinge. 



Rattge — United States, westward to. plains. 



Migrations — May. October. Summer resident. 



To many of us the veery, as they call the Wilson's thrush in 

 New England, is merely a voice, a sylvan mystery, reflecting the 

 sweetness and wildness of the forest, a vocal "will-o'-the-wisp" 

 that, after enticing us deeper and deeper into the woods, where 

 we sink into the spongy moss of its damp retreats and become 



