122 



ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



we heard. It echoes from the roadsides, 

 from the woodland, from hill-top and 

 valley. The brown thrasher seems to 

 hold an equal share of the island's terri- 

 tory, — perhaps I can say terra firma, — 

 while the pine and prairie warblers divide 

 the tree-tops among themselves. I do 

 not mean to say that 

 these four birds just 

 named are alone on 

 the uplands of the 

 island. The black- 

 throated green war- 

 blers, chickadees, 

 Maryland yellow- 

 throats, field spar- 

 rows, red-eyed vireos 

 and vesper sparrows sang to us during our 

 long drive, and blue jays, wood pewees, 

 dainty hummers, swifts and song sparrows 

 and the sociable chipping sparrows inhab- 

 ited the immediate vicinity of the West 

 Chop Light. 



Our driver, an enormous man, who re- 

 galed us with reminiscences of his child- 

 hood, lived in the country through which 

 our panting horse was slowly taking us. 

 There was the school-house, to reach 



