lOO WOOD NOTES AND NEST HUNTING. 



ing here and there on the ground, not a rod from 

 where I am sitting. He takes long, quick strides, 

 as he turns his head to look at me, now half-tum- 

 bling over dead sticks that lay in his path, or get- 

 ting his long hind claw tangled in the blackberry 

 vines, and making little exertions to clear himself. 

 Now he runs swiftly ahead to capture a beetle, or 

 turns back quickly sideways for some crawling 

 dainty which nearly escaped his notice. How 

 much the color is like that of the leaves and 

 grasses and vines through which he forages ! The 

 upper parts are of dark olive-green, with two dark 

 streaks on the crown, and a broader brownish-yel- 

 low one between them, with the breast and sides 

 of dirty white, streaked with black. 



I believe not many of the birds sing while upon 

 the ground. They love to mount some kind of 

 stage, on which to pour out their melodies. But 

 the golden-crowned hardly thinks it worth his time 

 to take the pains to fly to a music stand whenever 

 the inspiration seizes him, but stops his feeding for 

 a brief interval, lifts up his head an instant before 

 commencing, as is the habit of some of our best 

 singers, and utters in a loud clear tone the sylla- 

 bles Oheat-er cheat-er cheat-er. The song is not like 

 any other in the woods. Listening to his lay at 



