Vermont Botanical and Bird Clubs 13 



year-old sen," says Harper's Magazine. "The two were in the depths of 

 a forest when the youngster startled the father by the following: 'Dad, 

 I can hear the cuckoo but I can't see any clock.' " 



For nine years, recognized by its song, the same song sparrow came 

 back to its home in "The Highlands" garden and at night perched 

 high in the crab-apple tree that stands at the end of the piazza. Often 

 just at midnight he would send forth his clear, sweet notes that in the 

 stillness seemed emphasized and purified. This year he came no more — 

 a new songster, not half so sweet, was in the garden, and no notes of 

 his sounded from the crab-apple tree. Instead a white-throated sparrow, 

 that with its mate has nested for the first time near the house, revealed 

 frequently that he is one of the finest of night singers. I was interested 

 to read the following in a recent novel touching upon Idaho bird life: 

 "What is the bird that sings far into the night?" 

 "The bird that says 'Sweet, sweet, please listen to me, won't you?" 

 "Yes, or something equally as plaintive, at any rate." 

 "It's the white-crowned sparrow. You'll hear it through the dark- 

 est nights. Its song has all the somber quality of the dark hours. It's 

 our American nightingale." 



This is not the generally accepted bird to bear that title as to 

 the veery has often been referred to as much, and on June evenings 

 frequently sings from twilight into the night. Sometimes in our near- 

 by sugar-bush the three species — wood, hermit and veery — are singing 

 in turn, and as the shadows deepen the voice of the hermit recedes 

 into the deep woods, then the "quit, quit" of the wood announces 

 its departure, leaving the veery still singing. On rare occasions it 

 slips into a low-branched cherry tree near my window where I can 

 hear its undertones, and see the pulsing of its throat. At such times 

 the depth and beauty of its notes could surely win it the title of the 

 "American Nightingale." 



The oven bird is one of the most striking of the night singers, and 

 only reveals its daytime self by the abrupt ending to its love song with 

 the conventional "teacher, teacher." For many weeks I hear it almost 

 nightly, the ascending and descending notes vibrant with ecstacy and 

 so sharp as to awaken one from sleep. 



Near at hand in the syringa bush, chipping sparrows pass the 

 night, and this year after the little ones were raised the whole happy 

 family would chatter to each other as they stirred in their sleep. Chest- 

 nut-sided warblers that built in the lane perched in the grape vine, 

 as their twitterings announced, and a pair of robins perched as well as 

 nested in the big maple whose protecting branches reach to the piazza. 



