TALKS WITH YOUNG OBSEEVBKS 301 



my vineyard. It came late in the season, near the 

 end of August, the only one I had ever heard north 

 of the District of Columbia. During my Washing- 

 ton days, many years ago, this bird was one of the 

 most notable songsters observed in my walks. His 

 loud, rolling whistle and warble, his jocund calls and 

 salutations — how closely they were blended with 

 all my associations with nature on the Potomac. 

 When, therefore, one morning my ear caught the 

 same blithe, ringing voice on the Hudson, be assured 

 I was quickly on the alert. How it brought up the 

 past. How it reopened a chapter of my life that 

 had long been closed. It stood out amid other bird 

 songs and calls with a distinctness that attracted the 

 dullest ears. Such a southern Virginia air as it gave 

 to that nook by the river's side! 



I left my work amid the grapes and went down to 

 interview the bird. He peeped at me inquisitively 

 and suspiciously for a few moments from a little 

 clump of weeds and bushes, then came out in fuller 

 view, and finally hopped to the top of a grape-post, 

 drooped his wings and tail, lifted up his head, and 

 sang and warbled his best. If he had known ex- 

 actly what I came for and had been intent upon doing 

 his best to please me, he could not have succeeded 

 better. 



The great Carolina wren is a performer like the 

 mockingbird, and is sometimes called the mocking 

 wren. He sings and acts as well. He seems bent 

 on attracting the attention of somebody or something. 

 A Southern poet has felicitously interpreted cer- 



