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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 
way through the woods, I paused a little to listen 
to the outburst of song issuing from the throat of a w’ood thrush 
or bell bird. This bird is considered one of the sweetest song- 
sters o»f America. Its only rival in this respect is its cousin, 
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the Hermit Thrush, only known to us during its migration 
periods in the early Spring and late Autumn. The liquid notes 
of this particular wood thrush sounded clear and beautiful as 
they floated through the soft Summer twilight. 
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I was loathe to leave this wonderful performance, but I 
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noted the sun was fast sinking in a flood of crimson glory and I 
wished to get to the city before dark. I reluctantly left the 
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woods, hoping to hear that wonderful song repeated at some 
later day. 
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The next time I visited the nest, or just fourteen days from 
the date of discover}’, the eggs were uncovered, probably while 
the female was making her daily toilet, or taking a dust bath 
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in some nearby road. The clear staccato Bob White call of 
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the male bird, came floating to me from down the field, showing 
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that the eggs were only deserted temporarily; for, since the 
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male bird was so near, his mate could not be far away. Just 
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as I turned to leave, I saw her coming through the air from 
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