! 
BY THE WAYSIDE 
50 
scarlet,—in the edges of our woods. The 
voice once heard lingers long in our mem¬ 
ories. His call note is a simple one of 
two syllables, something like “chip-chirr.” 
If you once hear it and are able to re- 
member it you may be able, sometime, to 
find the Tanager, when otherwise you 
would not know that he was about. On 
reaching the point from whence the voice 
came you may possibly find a Robin, in¬ 
stead of the long-looked-for Tanager. 
Their voices are much alike when calling, 
except that the Robin’s is a little more 
mellow. There is a hoarseness in the 
Tanager’s call that never appears in the 
Robin’s. 
Wherever vou see him once, it is safe 
to look for him again. His song is worth 
waiting for, as he tells you. Being a ven¬ 
triloquist, the Tanager’s notes do not al¬ 
ways tell us where he is. Oftentimes his 
voice may seem to come from a distance, 
when, really, he is quite near. This 
power helps him to divert attention from 
the nest and family so dear to him. 
“Chip-a-ra-ree,” Ave hear him sing at in¬ 
tervals, seeming to get out of breath be¬ 
fore he has sung all that he intended. 
At other times he favors us with a soft, 
low chant. Then we feel that we have 
heard him at his devotions. One kind 
of song we may hear from him in the 
morning and a longer and sweeter strain 
in the afternoon: this depends entirely 
on the mood he is in. But in whichever 
song it is heard, the Tanager’s voice is 
one to be long remembered. 
Early in the springtime, before the eggs 
are laid, this red-coated minstrel flits 
about among the branches with his mate, 
and as they talk to each other in low, 
sweet, warbling notes, they win our love 
by their gentle tenderness. If you have 
not been told anything about the family, 
you will not be likely to know her as his 
mate, for she wears a dress as different 
from his as anything in feathers could be, 
—greenish above, greenish-yelloAv beloAV. 
In a nest so low and loosely Avoven as 
hers is, the mother Tanager, if she Avere 
as gavly dressed as her consort, would be 
an easy mark for the sportsman. As it 
is, she escapes the notice of all. except 
those looking long and carefully for her. 
The fledglings, before shedding their baby 
feathers, seem to be doing their very best 
to look like both their parents by wear¬ 
ing mixed suits of olive, speckled with 
bright green, red and yellow. After their 
first moult they look more like their par¬ 
ents. 
Later in the season the song voice of 
the father grows fainter, and at last is 
still. Lil :e many other feathered musi¬ 
cians he feels like singing only in the 
c o J 
woods and groves of his own home. As 
the time draws near for him to leave 
these for a winter in Central or South 
America, a feeling of sadness possesses 
him, taking away his voice which told of 
the happiness Avhich comes only when 
one is at home Avitli loved ones. When 
this strange feeling of sadness and un¬ 
rest comes over him, he lays aside his 
gorgeous concert gown of scarlet and 
black and robes himself in a dull, greenish 
traveling garment, and looks quite like 
his Avife and children, except for his 
Avings and tail of black. These he keeps, 
though they are a little duller than in 
the spring time. In these modest gar¬ 
ments the parent Tanagers. with their 
triplets, wing their Avay to the sunny 
lands far away, the older birds leading 
the way, while the children follow. 
Feeding on insects, Avild berries, and 
seeds, they travel only at night. Each 
day of their journey is spent in a differ¬ 
ent place, among the differing trees, vines 
and bushes, or differing hills and valleys. 
— M. C. Walker in Oar Birds and Their 
Nestlings. 
