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THE ATLANTIC ALMANAC FOR 1869. 21 
Se Tee SE Ee ee eee eee eee sa = 
notes, of surpassing sweetness and melody, and rises gradually 
higher and higher until the listener becomes lost in wonder, ad- 
miration, and delight, at the transcendent power and beauty of its 
song. We certainly know of nothing that compares with it, among 
our New England birds. We must here regretfully add, that we 
are not positive as to the identity of this wonderful songster. 
We long supposed that we had positively ascertained it to be the 
Black- Poll Warbler, having, as we at the time imagined, taken one 
of these birds in the very act of producing these wonderful mel- 
odies. But it is quite probable we were mistaken, and, by some 
unlucky aceident, did not obtain the real musician. Certain it is, 
that several of our friends who are well-informed ornithologists, 
and are familiar with the notes of the Black-Poll, are positive that 
they by no means equal or resemble our description of the song of 
this unknown musician, We would, therefore, be now entirely at 
fault as to what our bird could be, were it not that we find among the 
experiences of Audubon the description of one so very like our 
own, as to naturally suggest the probability that another indi- 
vidual of the same species with that whose harmony so entranced 
the great ornithologist may have been the bird to which we also 
listened with unmixed delight. Unfortunately, the bird to which 
we refer is one not familiar to most of us, and has no suggestive 
English name. Audubon calls it the Ruby-crowned Kinglet. Wil- 
son, in his poverty of appellatives, speaks of it as a Wren; but it 
is nothing of the kind, and is a bird of well-marked specific pecu- 
liarities. 
Mr. Audubon tells us, in the narrative to which we refer, that 
once, when he was rambling over the deserts of Labrador, and 
was listening to the harmonious sounds that filled the air around, 
suddenly the notes of a warbler quite new to him fell upon 
his ear. Its song was fully as sonorous as that of the Canary, 
and much richer in its melody. It was not only as powerful and 
as clear, but much more varied and pleasing to the ear. He se- 
; cured one of these birds in its very utterance of these sweet 
sounds, and entertained no doubts as to its identity. This little 
Kinglet, to which he attributes these vocal powers, is a bird no 
larger than our common Humming-bird. It is quite probable 
that he was right, and that he obtained the real musician. It is, 
however, possible that he may have been mistaken, and shot, not 
the real songster, but a different bird. 
Our earliest spring musicians are the Bluebird and the Robin. 
Familiar as both birds are to most of us, they deserve something 
more than a passing mention among the song-birds of this country. 
Of the Bluebirds we have three species, all closely resembling one 
another, yet sufficiently distinct, and occupying different parts of 
the continent. Two of these are found in the area between the 
Rocky Mountains and the Pacific. The third is our common 
Bluebird of the East, more or less abundant from Louisiana to 
Hudson’s Bay, and from Cape Cod to the Mississippi. Of all our 
birds, this bears the closest resemblance in its outward form and 
colors, and in itg habits and general characteristics, to the tradi- 
tional Robin Redbreast of Europe. It does not, it is true, in the 
winter season, with the same delightful familiarity of which we 
have so often read, come round our dwellings, or seek the shelter 
of our roof. Nor would it, like Robin Redbreast, pick up the 
proffered crumb of bread. Its food is exclusively of insects, and 
it cannot, therefore, well subsist in weather which interferes with 
its obtaining its prey. We do not therefore meet with it in mid- 
winter, in any of the more northern States. In the early spring, 
and throughout the summer, it is found in all parts of the country 
east of the Mississippi, as far north as the forty-eighth parallel 
of latitude. How or where these birds pass the winter does not 
very clearly appear. In the Southern, and even in some of the 
Middle States, on every mild winter day, the Bluebirds will come 
out from their retreats, wherever these may be, but will all disap- 
pear again on the return of severer weather. They are among 
the first-comers among the early migratory birds, always making 
their appearance in the first days of March, and once eyen in 
Massachusetts as early as the 15th of February. On that occa- 
sion, although the weather subsequently became very severe, the 
thermometer falling to zero, the Bluebirds remained, and were, 
from time to time, observed to be singing, and appearing to be 
having a good time generally, in spite of the temperature. 
Our Bluebird is a very pleasing, but is not a powerful or a 
remarkable singer, His notes are a succession of low and 
melodious warblings, and are almost exclusively uttered in close 
proximity to his mate. As his song is usually our first an- 
nouncement that spring, though yet far distant, ‘s advancing, 
so, too, his notes may be heard among the very last, and long 
after most of our other vocalists are mute. 
The Western Bluebird and the Arctic Bluebird are peculiar to 
the Pacific coast. In their habits, in their appearance, and, in- 
deed, in all other respects than their residence, they very nearly 
resemble the Eastern species. The song of the first named is 
said to be even more tender, sweet, and varied than are the 
notes of our common species. In regard to this, however, our 
authorities do not agree; Dr. J. G. Cooper, of California, very 
stoutly maintaining the contrary. The notes of the Arctic spe- 
cies are said to be easily distinguishable from either of the others. 
Though equally sweet and clear, they are delivered with much 
less power. 
Another of our earliest and most familiar songsters, whose 
loud and melodious whistle in early spring resounds throughout 
the length and breadth of our entire continent, is the Robin. It 
is too late now to enter our protest against this absurd misno- 
mer. A Robin it is, in Yankee parlance, and so will continue to 
be called so long as we may continue to hear its delightful music. 
What need have we to describe its notes? Who of us, from the 
Atlantic to the Pacific, is not familiar with its powerful, if 
not varied song, which Audubon tells us can hardly be distin- 
guished from that of the far-famed Blackbird of Europe? Like 
the Bluebird, the Robin, as he is among the first to open, so he is 
among the last to close, the vernal concert of nature. 
The earnestness, simplicity, and thrilling nature of his seng con- 
stitute its great charm. Its notes do not exhibit a very great 
variety, and are thought by different writers to resemble those of 
other birds, by some being said to resemble the Brown Thresher, 
by others the Wood-Thrush of Europe. Its song, in the still, early 
summer mornings, seems to pervade all space, and everywhere to 
be the predominating music. It begins with the first gray of the 
morning’s dawn, and only closes with the last glimmer of the clos- 
ing twilight. If, as says the old adage, early rising is really eal- 
culated to assure wealth and wisdom, combined with good physical 
health, surely the Robin ought to be abundantly blessed in these 
respects. It is up and in full song long before any one else is 
astir ; so early indeed, and so very soon after its last evening’s per- 
formance, that one would almost think it could hardly pay for it 
to retire to roost, devoting, as it does, in the long summer days of 
June, sixteen or seventeen hours out of the twenty-four to giving 
its earnest and enthusiastic expression to harmonious sounds. 
Belonging to the same family with the Robin are several of our 
best singers. Indeed, the entire family of true thrushes, and all 
its kith and kin, are musicians. All of them are excellent, and 
several of them are worthy of special mention. Perhaps the most 
celebrated of these is the Wood-Thrush, of course not the bird 
bearing the same common name in Europe. Our bird occurs, in 
summer, from Mexico to New England, Massachusetts being its 
most northern limit. It is, for the most part, as by some it is 
not unaptly called, a “bird of the solitude,” seeming to prefer 
dense thickets, low, damp hollows shaded by the dense foliage of 
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