42 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 
of a wood thrush just over my head. This was followed 
by nearly the same syllables, fuller and on a lower key. 
The song was immediately taken up by another thrush 
across the creek, and still a third further north, but in 
the Lawn. It was a glorious concert and in harmony 
with the peaceful surroundings. But how came these 
birds to be in this Lawn so far away from any extended 
woods, and three of them together? Had they selected 
that soft June day for an excursion? There would 
seem to have been method in the arrangement, as sel- 
dom more than one is heard singing in so open a place, 
and so far from any considerable piece of woods. 
The veeries (Zurdus fucescens) are not so equally-dis- 
tributed as the wood thrushes. They are more retiring, 
and seek low, rather than the high, wooded lands, prob- 
ably because insects are more plentiful in such localities. 
Unlike others of the family, they are somewhat grega- 
rious in their summer haunts. You will seldom find 
them singly, or even in pairs, but if there be one, several 
will be in the same locality. 
The song of one is nearly always taken up by another 
in the neighborhood, and sometimes a dozen or more 
will join in the concert—not in chorus, but each waiting 
till the other has finished before beginning his solo. 
The song of the veery, or Wilson’s thrush, although 
lacking the pure, flute-like notes of the wood thrush, is 
a continuous strain, fervid, ecstatic, very sweet, and of 
great power. There is a touch of wild weirdness not 
heard in any other strain. These few vibrating reed- 
like notes are repeated, and sometimes seemingly rolled 
