A SUMMER DRIVE IN THE LAKE COUNTRY. 207 
a great liking for the roadsides where he can see travel 
and still have his fields for refuge if molested. He 
often sings from a fence stake until you are opposite 
him, when he will fly ahead three or four lengths of the 
fence, and sing again. If observed too closely, he will 
drop into the grass, and the song will be taken up by 
another a little distance away. The house wrens are 
very musical just now, as it is their nesting season. We 
make many ahalt to listen to their rapid, rippling songs. 
In a wild cherry tree by the roadside one was singing 
and scolding by turns. The scolding part indicated 
family relations. He was ona dry limb within reach 
of one standing on the fence. A little examination re- 
vealed a small, smooth hole in the dead branch just 
above him, and a smart rap brought out the female 
from her nest in this cavity. Immediately both birds 
let fall upon us such a shower of epithets—probably all 
uncomplimentary—that we hurridly left them alone 
with their household cares. The pleasantest episode of 
the morning drive was the performance of a cat-bird. 
Several times this season, as we have passed a thicket 
by a ravine, this cat-bird has made his appearance and 
sung for us as long as we would listen. On-this occa- 
sion he failed to “show up” when we stopped opposite 
the thicket, so I tried the usual successful method of 
calling him out. A few coaxing words, and I heard his 
cat call; then he suddenly appeared on a brush heap 
by the road and commenced to sing. He fairly excelled 
himself. He whistled, warbled, trilled and talked, ex- 
celling any mocking bird that I ever heard, and as I 
