BIRD PARADISE 133 



managed to secure several score of grubs in that 

 time. 



Passing near the swamp thicket this morning I 

 was greeted cheerily by the song of the thrush. 

 It came out of the coverts so smoothly and sweetly 

 that one wondered how such a place could yield 

 such music. It was the stirring trill of Mr. 

 Thrush at his very best. What a song it is and 

 how it commands the attention of all the denizens 

 of the wood. I noticed that when it was given 

 utterance the other singers were silent. Very 

 likely the clear ripple of the notes was so bright 

 and entrancing that no others could be given a 

 moment's thought. Usually the singing of one 

 of these birds is answered by another from some 

 point near by. I waited for the response and 

 half fancied at times that it was in the air, but 

 none was made. The lack of response, however, 

 had no perceptible effect upon the singer. He 

 went on and seemed entirely satisfied in having 

 the parson for a listener. The nest, no doubt, 

 was hidden away in the thicket, the young being 

 now nearly ready to shift for themselves. It has 

 occurred to me that if the young birds could only 

 shape and use the song of the species it would add 

 much to the attractiveness of our groves. We 



