WILD LIFE ABOUT MY CABIN 



quently heard a fine burst of melody that was new 

 to me. One June day I was fortunate enough to 

 see the bird delivering its song in the air above the 

 low trees. As with the oven-bird, its favorite hour 

 is the early twilight, though I hear the song occa- 

 sionally at other hours. The bird darts upward fifty 

 feet or more, about half the height that the oven- 

 bird attains, and gives forth a series of rapid, ring- 

 ing musical notes, which quickly glide into the long, 

 sparrow-like trill that forms its ordinary workaday 

 song. While this part is being uttered, the singer is 

 on its downward flight into the woods. The flight- 

 song of the oven-bird is louder and more striking, 

 and is not so shy and furtive a performance. The 

 latter I hear many times every June twiUght, and I 

 frequently see the singer reach his climax a hundred 

 feet or more in the air, and then mark his arrow-like 

 flight downward. I have heard this song also in the 

 middle of the night near my cabin. At such times it 

 stands out on the stillness like a bursting rocket on 

 the background of the night. 



One or two mornings in April, at a very early 

 hour, I am quite sure to hear the hermit thrush 

 singing in the bushes near my window. How 

 quickly I am transported to the Delectable Moun- 

 tains and to the mossy solitudes of the northern 

 woods ! The winter wren also pauses briefly in his 

 northern journey, and surprises and delights my 

 ear with his sudden lyrical burst of melody. Such 

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