The Wood Thrush 
13 
He is about two inches shorter than the robin. 
Above, his feathers are a rich cinnamon brown, 
brightest on his head and shoulders and shading 
into olive brown on his tail. His white throat 
and breast and sides are heavily marked with 
heart-shaped marks of very dark brown. He 
has a white eye ring. 
"Here am I” come his three clear, bell-like 
notes of self-introduction. The quality of his 
music is delicious, rich, penetrative, pure and 
vibrating like notes struck upon a harp. If 
you don’t already know this most neighbourly 
of the thrushes — as he is also the largest and 
brightest and most heavily spotted of them all — 
you will presently become acquainted with one 
of the finest songsters in America. Wait until 
evening when he sings at his best. Nolee-a-e-o- 
lee-nolee-aeolee-lee! peals his song from the trees. 
Love alone inspires his finest strains; but even 
in July, when bird music is quite inferior to that 
of May and June, he is still in good voice. A 
song so exquisite proves that the thrush comes 
near to being a bird angel, very high in the scale 
of development, and far, far beyond such low 
creatures as ducks and chickens. 
Pit-pit-pit you may hear sharply, excitedly 
jerked out of some bird’s throat, and you wonder 
if a note so disagreeable can really come from the 
wonderful songster on the branch above your 
head. By sharply striking two small stones 
