264 OUR SUMMER MIGRANTS. 



awakened by a perfect chorus of birds — Black- 

 cap, Nightingale, Thrush, Wood Pigeon, Chaf- 

 finch, Starling, and Magpie were all recognized ; 

 but what pleased me above all, was a beautiful 

 mellow whistle, which I took to be that of the 

 Golden Oriole, and in less than an hour after- 

 wards I found that I was right in my surmise, 

 for on walking through the woods which flank 

 one side of the house, I had the pleasure of 

 seeing for the first time alive several of these 

 beautiful birds. They were very shy, and kept 

 to the tops of the oak trees ; but by proceeding 

 cautiously I managed to get near enough to see 

 and hear them well. Their note is really splen- 

 did, so mellow, loud, and clear — something of 

 the Blackbird's tone about it, but yet very 

 different ; while in their mode of flight and 

 perching they remind one of a Thrush. After 

 a long search, I at length found a nest, placed 

 at the extremity of a thin bough, and at the top 

 of an oak tree, about sixty feet up. There were 

 no branches for more than thirty feet, and it 

 would have been almost impossible to reach it 



