44 WAKE-ROBIN 
straight toward his head. He is the least ostenta- 
tious singer I know of. He does not strike an. 
attitude, and lift up his head in preparation, and, 
as it were, clear his throat; but sits there. on a log 
and pours out his music, looking straight before 
him, or even down at the ground. As a songster, 
he has but few superiors. I do not hear him after 
the first week in July. 
While sitting on this soft-cushioned log, tasting 
the pungent acidulous wood-sorrel, the blossoms of 
which, large and pink-veined, rise everywhere above 
the moss, a rufous-colored bird flies quickly past, 
and, alighting on a low limb a few rods off, salutes 
me with “Whew! Whew!” or “Whoit! Whoit! ” 
almost as you would whistle for your dog. I see 
by his impulsive, graceful movements, and his dimly 
speckled breast, that it is a thrush. Presently he 
utters a few soft, mellow, flute-like notes, one of 
the most simple expressions of melody to be heard, 
and scuds away, and I see it is the veery, or Wil- 
son’s thrush. “He is the least of the thrushes in 
size, being about that of the common bluebird, and 
he may be distinguished from his relatives by the 
dimness of the spots upon his breast. The wood 
thrush has very clear, distinct oval spots on a white 
ground; in the hermit, the spots run more into 
lines, on a ground of a faint bluish white; in the 
veery, the marks are almost obsolete, and a few rods 
off his breast presents only a dull yellowish appear- 
ance. / To get a good view of him you have only to 
sit down in his haunts, as in such cases he seems 
equally anxious to get a good view of you. 
