122 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



in adjoining neighborhoods. About the village there are 

 probably twice as many three-leaved or pitch pines as of 

 scrub or two-leaved. But this is immaterial. The trees 

 that I saw were all small, the third or fourth growth, per- 

 1 haps, but still large enough to be sheltering trees, and 

 crowned with murmuring branches. 



Unlike most constant sounds, this of the wind in the 

 pine-tree tops is never tiresome, fitting as it does so well 

 with the loneliness of unfrequented woods — for these woods 

 are lonely; in no sense, as compared with forests else- 

 where, are they a chosen haunt of any of our familiar 

 birds, and, as was the case in April, I saw no trace of any 

 mammal but the chickaree. 



This arises almost certainly from the uniformity of the 

 locality and consequent comparative absence of both ani- 

 mal and vegetable food ; and not unimportant is the fact 

 that the pine tree does not afford much concealment for 

 the birds themselves, and even less for their nests ; but, as 

 I continually found, the moment you pass the bounds of 

 a typical " pine barren " and reach the edge of a swamp, 

 or even dry area — ^but with deciduous trees and shrub- 

 bei'y — the birds appear. 



In the village proper there were fourteen species of 

 birds in such numbers as one might expect to find in any 

 country town with shaded streets and ample gardens. In 

 the " deciduous tree " and swampy portions of the back 

 woods I noted but eight species, but one of which — the 

 wood thrush — ^is included in the village list. In all my 

 rambles, including a long row down Great Egg Harbor 

 River, I saw and unmistakably identified but forty-four 

 species — a considerably smaller number than can be seen 

 at any time during the same month at home. Of the list, 

 there was but one not to be found in central New Jersey 

 — the log cock or pileated woodpecker. The mocking- 

 bird — of which I saw one specimen — is as rare there as 



