THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS 17 
but, as stated, not especially musical; Chick-a-re’r- 
chick, he seems to say, hiding himself in the low, 
dense undergrowth, and eluding your most vigilant 
search, as if playing some part in a game. But in 
July or August, if you are on good terms with the 
sylvan deities, you may listen to a far more rare 
and artistic performance. Your first impression 
will be that that cluster of azalea, or that clump of 
swamp-huckleberry, conceals three or four different 
songsters, each vying with the others to lead the 
chorus. Such a medley of notes, snatched from 
half the songsters of the field and forest, and uttered 
with the utmost clearness and rapidity, I am sure 
you cannot hear short of the haunts of the genuine 
mockingbird. If not fully and accurately repeated, 
there are at least suggested the notes of the robin, 
wren, catbird, high-hole, goldfinch, and song spar- 
row. The pip, pip, of the last is produced so 
accurately that I verily believe it would deceive the 
bird herself; and the whole uttered in such rapid 
succession that it seems as if the movement that 
gives the concluding note of one strain must form 
the first note of the next. The effect is very rich, 
and, to my ear, entirely unique. The performer is 
very careful not to reveal himself in the mean time; 
yet there is a conscious air about the strain that 
impresses me with the idea that my presence is 
understood and my attention courted. A tone of 
pride and glee, and, occasionally, of bantering jocose- 
ness, is discernible. I believe it is only rarely, and 
when he is sure of his audience, that he displays 
