THE THRUSH FAMILY 29 



closely imitate this alarm call. Social as the wood thrush 

 is and abundant, too, it is also eminently high-bred; and 

 when contrasted with its tawny cousin the veery, that 

 hides in the nearest bushes as you approach, or with the 

 hermit thrush, that pom's out its heavenly song in the soU- 

 tude of the forest, how neighborly and gracious and full of 

 gentle confidence it seems. Every gesture is graceful and 

 elegant; even a wriggling beetle is eaten as daintily as 

 caviare at the king's table. It is only when its confidence 

 in you is abused, and you pass too near the low-hung nest, 

 that might easily be mistaken for a robin's, that the wood 

 thrush so far forgets itself as to become excited. Pit, 

 pit, pit, sharply reiterated, is called out at you with a 

 strident quality in the tone that is painful evidence of the 

 fearful anxiety your presence gives this gentle bird. 



Too many guardians of nests, whether out of excessive 

 happiness or excessive stupidity, have a dangerous habit 

 of singing near them. Not so the wood thrush. "Come 

 to me," as the opening notes of its flute-like song have been 

 freely translated, invites the intruder far away from where 

 the blue eggs lie cradled. 



While sitting, the mother bird is quite tame. A pho- 

 tographer placed his camera within four feet of a nest, 

 changed the plates, and clicked the shutter three times for 

 as many pictures without disturbing the gentle sitter who 

 merely winked her eye at each click. 



Wood thrushes seem to delight in weaving bits of paper 

 or rags into their deep cradles. A nest in the shrubbery 

 near a bird-lover's home in New Jersey had many bits of 

 newspaper attached to its outer walls, but the most con- 

 spicuous strip in front advertised in large letters "A 

 House to Be Let or Sold." The original builders happily 



