THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS 25 
sort of female Paul Pry; and the chewink shows 
his inhospitality by espying your movements like 
a Japanese. The wood thrush has none of these 
under-bred traits. He regards me unsuspiciously, or 
avoids me with a noble reserve, —or, if I am quiet 
and incurious, graciously hops toward me, as if to 
pay his respects, or to make my acquaintance. I 
have passed under his nest within a few feet of his 
mate and brood, when he sat near by on a branch 
eying me sharply, but without opening his beak; 
but the moment I raised my hand toward his de- 
fenseless household his anger and indignation were 
beautiful to behold. 
What a noble pride he has! Late one October, 
after his mates and companions had long since gone 
south, I noticed one for several successive days in 
the dense part of this next-door wood, flitting noise- 
lessly about, very grave and silent, as if doing pen- 
ance for some violation of the code of honor. By 
many gentle, indirect approaches, I perceived that 
part of his tail-feathers were undeveloped. The 
sylvan prince could not think of returning to court 
in this plight, and so, amid the falling leaves and 
cold rains of autumn, was patiently biding his time. 
The soft, mellow flute of the veery fills a place 
in the chorus of the woods that the song of the ves- 
per sparrow fills in the chorus of the fields. It has 
the nightingale’s habit of singing in the twilight, 
as indeed have all our thrushes. Walk out toward 
the forest in the warm twilight of a June day, and 
when fifty rods distant you will hear their soft, 
