24 HERMIT THRUSH. 
Washington, D. C., during the winter, and scattered individuals pass the cold season 
even, farther north. 
The breeding range of the Hermit extends northward from the 44th parallel. It 
is very common in Maine, likewise in the beautiful Adirondacs and Catskills, probably 
also in Canada and northward from central Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota. 
Westward it extends up into the Rocky Mountains. In Colorado it occurs at an alti- 
tude of from 1,000 to 8,000 feet. Here the bird appears toward the end of May; about 
the middle of June it abounds in the thicket-grown mountain valleys and forests, from 
which its beautiful song continually echoes.—It always chooses for a home the dense’ 
swampy woods composed of luxuriant and varied vegetation, rarely pierced hy the 
sun’s rays. On this account it is often called the Grounp Swamp Rosin or SwAMP 
Rosin. In the many luxuriant and solitary woods of central and northern Wisconsin 
the Hermit seems to be a rather common summer resident. This is especially true of 
the large white cedar and tamarack swamps. Far removed from the bustling activity 
of man in the secluded forest solitude, in the half shadow cast by the trees and bushes, 
the Hermit Thrush pours forth its charming song, so wonderful that the people in the 
romantic Adirondacs call the bird the Swamp ANGEL. 
In Dr. Elliott Coues’ admirable work on the “Birds of the Colorado Valley” I find 
the following paragraph on the Hermit’s song: ‘Great injustice would be done were 
the Hermit’s musical powers overlooked in any sketch, however slight, of its life-history. 
The earlier authors were evidently unaware of its accomplishments, for its melody is 
lavished in the gloom of the swamp, or lost in the darkening aisles of the forest, where 
years past by before the ear of the patient and toiling student of nature was gladdened 
by the sweet refrain. Wilson denies its song; Audubon speaks of ‘its single plaintive 
note,’ though he adds, perhaps upon information received from his friend Dr. Pickering, 
that ‘its song is sometimes agreeable.’ Nuttall seems to have first recognized the 
power and sweetness of the lay of our Hermit: he compares it to the famous Night- 
ingale, that sweet princess of song, and ranks it far above the Wood Thrush. Later 
writers agree in this high estimate of the bird’s powers, though it may be questioned 
whether a comparison unfavorable to the Wood Thrush is a perfe@tly just discrimination. 
The weird associations of the spot where the Hermit triumphs, the mystery inseparable 
from the voice of an unseen musician, conspire to heighten the effeét of the sweet, 
silvery, bell-like notes, which, beginning soft, low, and tinkling, rise higher and higher, 
to end abruptly with a clear, ringing intonation. It is the reverse of the lay of the 
Wood Thrush, which swells at once into powerful and sustained effort, then gradually 
dies away, as though the bird were receding from us; for the song of the Hermit first 
steals upon us from afar, then seems to draw nearer, as if the timid recluse were weary 
of solitude, and craved recognition of its conscious power to please. Yet it is but a 
momentary indecision—true to a vow of seclusion, the anchorite is gone again to its 
inviolate grotto in the fastnesses of the swamp, where a world of melody is wasted in 
its pathetic song of life: — 
Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear; 
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 
