124 OUR SOUTHERN BIRDS 



Perhaps the mistake arises from a supposi- 

 tion that the well-known poem of our school- 

 days, "The Merry Brown Thrush," refers to 

 one or the other. It is my belief that these . 

 pretty verses were written in celebration of some 

 English species not found on this side of the 

 Atlantic. For the song of the Wood Thrush is not 

 merry, any more than the music of Bach or 

 Beethoven is merry; while one line speaks of a 

 nest "and five eggs hid by me in the juniper- 

 tree, ' ' but I have never known either Thrush or 

 Thrasher to build in evergreen trees, the 

 Thrasher especially being likely to build near the 

 ground. 



CATBIRD 



Of all the empty birds' nests in my posses- 

 sion the most interesting is perhaps that of a 

 pair of Catbirds, who built it in a plum tree 

 behind an old barn and in it hatched their young 

 from four beautiful green-blue eggs. It is quite 

 soberly lined with fine rootlets; the main struc- 

 ture is sensibly woven of crab-grass, weeds, and 

 shreds of grapevine bark and corn husks; but 

 down in the foundation, made of dry leaves, 

 cornstalk splints and heavier weed stems, is a 

 queer notionate collection, perhaps made with 

 some idea of ornament. There are chicken quills, 

 wrapping twine, a bit of crumpled newspaper, a 



