EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 81 * 
river only partly open. On the hill I hear first 
the tapping of a small woodpecker. I then see 
a bird alight on the dead top of the highest 
white oak on the hill-top, on the topmost point. 
It is a shrike. While I am watching him eight 
or ten rods off, I hear robins down below west 
of the hill. Then to my surprise the shrike be¬ 
gins to sing. It is at first a wholly ineffectual 
and inarticulate sound, without any solid tone, 
a mere hoarse breathing, as if he were clearing 
his throat, unlike any bird that I know, a shrill 
hissing. Then he uttered a kind of mew, a very 
decided mewing, clear and wiry, between that 
of a catbird and the note of the nuthatch, as if 
to lure a nuthatch within his reach. Then rose 
with the sharpest, shrillest vibratory or tremu¬ 
lous whistling, or chirruping on the very high¬ 
est key. This high gurgling jingle was like 
some of the notes of a robin singing in summer. 
But they were very short spurts in all these 
directions, though there was all this variety. 
Unless you saw the shrike, it would be hard to 
tell what bird it was. These various notes cov¬ 
ered considerable time, but were sparingly ut¬ 
tered with intervals. It was a decided chink¬ 
ing sound, the clearest strain, suggesting much 
ice in the stream. I heard this bird sing once 
before, but that was also in early spring, or 
about this time. It is said that they imitate 
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