222 OVEN-BIRD 



would flutter directly upward as we often see the English Sparrow 

 or House Wren do, and reaching a height of twenty feet or more, 

 dash about the clearing in varying circles, ever tending in his flight 

 toward the object of his extravagant attention. She, in the meanwhile, 

 sat silent and evidently interested in the performance. Suddenly the 

 male dropped beside her, and alternately dashing and wheeling about, 

 but continually on the move and always revolving about her, gave 

 evidence of his adoration by a series of hops, dignified struts, droop- 

 ings of the bead and tail, elevation of the wings and crest, which 

 would have done credit to both the Turkey and the Ruffed Grouse. 

 While on the ground, the song was kept up with the usual vigor, but 

 the interruption by the coarser, common notes was more frequent and 

 the bird stopped in its struts in order to utter the notes which 

 apparently caused him more effort than did the more beautiful song. 

 The appearance of a third party on the scene, probably also a lover, 

 caused the first performer to dash into the brush much to my disap- 

 pointment." 



Song. — Formerly, singing Oven-birds said, to my ear, with re- 

 markable distinctness and decision, teacher, teacher, etc., in the usual 

 crescendo chant, but as I now hear the song the accent is placed on the 

 last syllable. The call-note is a fine, small cheep, which, when one is 

 near the bird's nest is uttered with irritating persistence. 



The Oven-bird's flight song is one of the remarkable vocal per- 

 formances among the Warblers. It is a wild outpouring of jumbled 

 notes over which the bird seems to have no control and is often con- 

 cluded with the common teacher song. 



"Widely and intimately known though the Oven-bird is, there 

 seem to be no written accounts either of the occasional strange vag- 

 aries of its perch-singing, or of the abundance and regularity of its 

 nocturnal free-air flight-singing. Here in southwestern New Hamp- 

 shire, its full flight-song, — delivered often from a height of a hundred 

 or more feet above the tree-tops — is one of the commonest night-sounds, 

 from early May to September. Indeed, we are apt to hear Oven- 

 birds singing high overhead the night before their first spring appear- 

 ance in our daylit woods, and the same performance is often the last 

 token we have of their presence in late September. Of course, this 

 song is often uttered in the daytime, too, — especially at late afternoon, 

 — but never so commonly as in the moonlit nights of mid-summer. 

 Even on pitch-dark nights it is not uncommon, but then as a rule, the 

 birds don't go so high, — sometimes singing fairly amid the tree-tops. 

 This flight-song is a combination of the usual Teacher, teacher, per- 



