6 WASTE-LAST) WANDERINGS. 



only make bare mention of the fact that beyond their 

 numbers they offered nothing of special interest to the 

 observer. 



To return to these water -thrushes — true warblers, 

 bear in mind — at Linden Bend. The incessant see-saw 

 of their tails, as they walked along the sloping, muddy 

 shore, or tripped the whole length of some horizontal 

 branch of hornbeam, told me at once what birds they 

 were, and but for one curious habit they might have 

 passed unnoticed among the hundreds of brilliantly col- 

 ored warblers that threaded every tangle of intermingled 

 branches. Possibly because these more active species, or, 

 shall I say, better tree-climbers, monopolized the choicer 

 feeding -grounds, the water -thrushes, or wagtails, took 

 to the water, and with swallow-like dexterity and grace 

 snapped up the " skaters," those quick-motioned spiders, 

 until scarcely one was to be seen. And then, at inter- 

 vals of ten or fifteen minutes, these birds would rise to 

 the very tops of the tall lindens and sing a few bars of 

 wellnigh matchless melody. Perhaps I am extravagant 

 in sounding its praises, but it was music that grew sweet- 

 er with each repetition, and caused the songs of other 

 birds to seem commonplace in comparison, and this, I 

 take it, is a test of its exceeding merit. 



Hard by I once had a curious adventure with a cousin 

 of this water-thrush, our common oven-bird. The day 

 before, I lost overboard a number of trout-flies, tied to- 

 gether with a bit of fine copper wire. The buoyancy of 

 the feathers was not sufficient to keep them afloat, and, 

 as it was high tide at the time, they sunk beyond my 

 reach. I revisited the spot the following morning, when 



