82 THE RETURN OF THE NATIVES. 



ing an instant, he begins the next syllables, which 

 to me are interpreted thus : Ple-pu-pu pu ; the last 

 seeming to be uttered more rapidly, and having 

 the very expression of pathos. Weeks afterward, 

 as he sails over and alights in the meadow, the 

 tones are different, being now a cheerful ringing 

 whistle, full of semiquavers at the conclusion, and 

 difficult to put into any kind of words. The notes 

 vary in individual birds. Passing across the 

 Adams' field, a half-mile away, with the sudden 

 transitions of the last still lingering in my mind, I 

 am surprised to hear in the walnut-tree, notes en- 

 tirely unlike those to which I just now listened. 

 Che-er-chew chewit-ehewit, he seems to sing, yet not 

 without the usual quirks, which would require a 

 vivid imagination to arrange into articulate dis- 

 course. After the season of incubation, when 

 chance has taken him quite a distance from his 

 home, his song is not so elaborate or prolonged. 

 Sometimes he appears in the deep woods, remote 

 from dwellings, with only a single plaintive note, 

 as he moves along the higher limbs, and if startled 

 utters that peculiar guttural sound which reminds 

 you of the blackbird, and betrays their close rela- 

 tionship. 



His flight and general make-up resemble those 



