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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 
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Sure,- don’t you see him over there among those dead 
leaves near that clump of bushes?” A hardy outburst of 
laughter greeted our ears, and we saw Jack with glasses levelled 
at the bird. 
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“Why, I know what he is,” he exclaimed and again he 
laughed as he saw the chagrin of disappointment on Tom’s 
countenance. 
“That’s a towhee, isn’t it, Dick?” addressing me. 
“It’s a towhee alright, but how did you know it?” 
“Oh, I remembered a description I read of a bird, some 
time ago, and how easily it can be mistaken for a robin,” he 
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nodded mischievously toward Tom who was busily engaged in 
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watching the actions of said towhee, and acting as though he 
did not hearxthe last remarks. Just then a clear, “tow-hee-ee” 
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rang through the woods, and our bird flew up to a low-hanging 
branch of a small sapling and answered a “chewing-chewing 
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from which he also derives his name of chewink. 
The towhee is not usually a resident, but he leaves for otner 
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climes about the first of November, although males are some¬ 
times seen in these parts the year around. 
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As we were descending the hill on our homeward journev 
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a sharp “peenk, peenk, peenk,” reached our ears from an oak 
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