66 WAKE-ROBIN 
somest of the warblers; his white breast and throat, 
chestnut sides, and yellow crown show conspicuously. 
Last year I found the nest of one in an uplying 
beech wood, in a low bush near the roadside, where 
cows passed and browsed daily. Things went on 
smoothly till the cow bunting stole her egg into it, 
when other mishaps followed, and the nest was soon 
empty. A characteristic attitude of the male dur- 
ing this season is a slight drooping of the wings, 
and tail a little elevated, which gives him a very 
smart, bantam-like appearance. His song is fine 
and hurried, and not much of itself, but has its 
place in the general chorus. 
A far sweeter strain, falling on the ear with the 
true sylvan cadence, is that of the black-throated 
green-backed warbler, whom I meet at various 
points. He has no superiors among the true Syi- 
via. His song is very plain and simple, but re- 
markably pure and tender, and might be indicated 
by straight lines, thus, / 3 the first 
two marks representing two sweet, silvery notes, in 
the same pitch of voice, and quite unaccented; the 
latter marks, the concluding notes, wherein the tone 
and inflection are changed. The throat and breast 
of the male are a rich black like velvet, his face 
yellow, and his back a yellowish green. 
Beyond the Barkpeeling, where the woods are 
mingled hemlock, beech, and birch, the languid 
midsummer note of the black-throated blue-back 
falls on my ear. ‘“‘Twea, twea, twea-e-e!” in the 
upward slide, and with the peculiar z-ing of summer 
