INDIGO-BIKD 317 



of the dead gray extremities of the cat-briar, with its 

 tendrils (and some" of this had dropped on the ground 

 beneath), and this was lined merely with fine brown 

 stems of weeds like pinweeds, without any leaves or 

 anything else, — a slight nest on the whole. Saw the 

 birds. The male uttered a very peculiar sharp click- 

 ing or squeaking note of alarm while I was near the 

 nest. 



June 14, 1859. The rose-breasted grosbeak is com- 

 mon now in the Flint's Pond woods. It is not at all 

 shy, and our richest singer, perhaps, after the wood 

 thrush. The rhythm is very like that of the tanager, 

 but the strain is perfectly clear and sweet. One sits on 

 the bare dead twig of a chestnut, high over the road, 

 at Gourgas Wood, and over my head, and sings clear 

 and loud at regular intervals, — the strain about ten 

 or fifteen seconds long, rising and swelling to the end, 

 with various modulations. Another, singing in emula- 

 tion, regularly answers it, alternating with it, from a 

 distance, at least a quarter of a mile off. It sings thus 

 long at a time, and I leave it singing there, regardless 

 of me. 



July 9, 1860. See two handsome rose-breasted gros- 

 beaks on the Corner causeway. One utters a peculiar 

 squeaking or snapping note, and, both by form of bill 

 and this note, and color, reminds me of some of those 

 foreign birds with great bills in cages. 



INDIGO-BIRD 



June 9, 1857. In the sprout-land beyond the red 

 huckleberry, an indigo-bird, which chips about me as 



