The Hermit Thrushes 
keeper of the heavenly voice, blow 
not in vain, for as many as thrill to 
that voice know God—or shall know 
Him.” 
“Los Colibris, March 12, 1915: 
—The call to prayers can come from 
no throat sweeter or more devout than 
that of the Hermit Thrush. A certain 
pepper tree next the studio is forever 
consecrated as a chapel, because this 
gentle exile from the heavenly wil¬ 
derness tried the strings of his harp 
and found them still resonant. Oh, 
sweeter than our best imaginings 
and purer than the resolves of a 
purged heart come those limpid tones 
of bliss. Ah! Hermit, I marvel and 
1 tremble before you. If the Master 
hath taught your little heart so much 
of blessedness, what shall be for the 
Sons of God?” 
To speak soberly of the Hermit 
Thrush as a mere bird is scarcely 
possible to one whose feeling for it 
is akin to worship. But in the name 
of Science we will try to tear our¬ 
selves away from the altar. We will 
put on our working clothes and 
repair to Nature’s laboratory, the 
great out-of-doors. 
Over several thousand square 
leagues of west-central and southern 
California one will find the Dwarf 
Hermit Thrush (or, upon the border, 
the scarcely distinguishable Alaska 
Hermit Thrush) among the common 
birds of the open chaparral or the 
more secluded under shrubbery of the forests. If there is shade, one 
sees scarcely more than a moving shape, a little browner than the earth, 
but scarcely outlined in the uncertain light, start up from the ground 
with a low chuck and pause for a moment on a fallen branch. Before 
you have made out definite characters, the bird flits to a branch a little 
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