SWAINSON'S WARBLER. 179 
which in turn soon mingle their waters with those of neighboring rivers. More extensive 
swamps, especially those bordering the larger streams, are subject to inundations which, 
bringing down deposits of alluvial soil, bury up or sweep away the humbler plants, 
leaving a floor of unsightly mud, interspersed with pools of stagnant water. Such 
places answer well enough for the Prothonotary and Hooded Warblers, which, although 
essentially swamp-lovers, are not to any extent terrestrial; but you are not likely to 
find Swatnson’s WaRBLER in them, unless about the outskirts, or on islands elevated 
above the reach of the floods. Briefly, four things seem indispensable to his existence, 
viz., water, tangled thickets, patches of cane, and a rank growth of semi-aquatic plants. 
“All four conditions are fulfilled by the ‘pine-land galls.’ These belts, with their cool 
shade, running water, and luxuriant vegetation, attraét many thicket-haunting birds. 
They invariably swarm with Cardinals, White-eyed Vireos, Carolina Wrens, and Hooded 
Warblers, while there are occasional pairs of Maryland Yellow-throats, and now and 
then a Wood Thrush, sounding his flute-like notes, or a Painted Finch, warbling softly 
among the bushes. From the pines outside come the sweet refrain of the Yellow-throated 
Warbler, the petulant cry of the Great-crested Flycatcher, and, from somewhere in the 
distance, the matchless reverie of Bachman’s Finch. 
“In the early morning, before the sun’s rays have evaporated the delicate frosting 
* of dew-drops from the fronds of the ground palmetto, or invaded the swamp, still cool 
and fragrant after the night, one may hear fifty birds singing in suchaspot. The effect 
is confusing at first, but the practised ear soon identifies the various performers, and a 
few minutes spent in this way will often give the listener a fairly accurate idea of the 
bird life by which he is surrounded. Amid the general din, if he be fortunate, may be 
heard the song of Swainson’s Warbler, a performance so remarkable that it can scarcely 
fail to attract the dullest ear, while it is not likely to be soon forgotten. It consists of 
a series of clear, ringing whistles, the first four uttered rather slowly and in the same 
key, the remaining five or six given more rapidly, and in an evenly descending scale, like 
those of the Cafion Wren. In general effect it recalls the song of the Water Thrush. 
It is very loud, very rich, very beautiful, while it has an indescribably tender quality 
that thrills the senses after the sound has ceased. 
“Tt is ventriloquial to such a degree that there is often great difficulty in tracing 
it to its source. You advance confidently enough at first, when suddenly the sound 
comes from behind you. -Retracing your steps, the direction is again changed. Now it 
is to the right, shortly after to the left; one moment in the tree tops overhead, the next 
among the bushes almost at your feet. Hurrying hither and thither with rapidly 
diminishing caution you finally lose all patience and dash through the tangle, tripping 
over hidden obstructions or perhaps floundering in morasses at imminent risk of being 
bitten by some venomous moccasin. When at length you pause near the starting point, 
tired of the fruitless pursuit, and convinced that your will-o’-the-wisp has been moment- 
arily changing his position, you may perchance discover him sitting quietly near the end 
of some low branch, where he has probably been all the while, calmly curious perhaps 
with respect to the strange two-legged creature rushing about beneath, but more likely 
lost to everything except his own ecstatic music. At times, however, he actually will 
flit from perch to perch as you advance, keeping more or less concealed among the foliage. 
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