24 



and half that of the oriole. It was a most delightful medley, and 

 many mornings I walked several blocks out of my way to enjoy it. 



At Portage, my attention was called to the song of a red-eyed 

 vireo {Vireo olivaceous) that had caught the whistte of a quail; his 

 cheerful, almost incessant song of a dozen notes uttered interroga- 

 tively, was changed at intervals to exactly resemble the clear whistle 

 of "Bob White," of the quail. So perfect was it that several whose 

 attention was called to it would not believe that the little song-bird 

 uttered it, until I pointed out to them the small, ashen-colored war- 

 bler, evidently the author. For many days the same sweet singer 

 delighted its listeners. Its own song is a very agreeable one, and it 

 is a persistent singer, making music, not only on the soft, sweet 

 mornings of June, but during all the hot, sultry days of summer, 

 when the songs of most other birds are hushed. The following sea- 

 son I heard the same bird in the same grove, and should have recog- 

 nized it among a thousand. Probably, when young and commenc- 

 ing to sing, these birds that have caught notes and strains of others, 

 were in hearing of those which they imitate. 



Three species of birds utter the word " Phebe " quite distinctly; 

 the American gold-finch, phebe-bird, and chickadee; the first, in a 

 plaintive tone, generally when shivering with the cold of early au- 

 tumn, or while trying to escape the sparrow-hawk. The phebe re- 

 peats it as its daily song, keeping time with the oscillation of its long 

 tail, while the chickadee only utters it as its love-song when mating, 

 and then it is one of the clearest, sweetest whistles to be heard in 

 the woods. 



Birds of the same species vary much in quality and quantity of 

 song; the wild ones even as much as the canary and mocking-bird. 

 This is more frequently noticed in the song- sparrow and robin; but 

 those who delight in the songs of the Sylvias — the thrushes and war- 

 blers of the woods— better appreciate this difference. Some wood- 

 thrushes sing as if they had colds; others only short snatches of a 

 song, seeming never quite able to complete the strain; while most of 

 them send out such clear and silvery notes, so exquisitely modulated, 

 as to stamp them as Nature's sweetest musicians. 



Burroughs has noticed the fact that the bobolink sings his best 

 and brightest songs in the meadow regions of eastern ar.d central 



