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dom, if ever, seen here, and perhaps its 
song is never heard when he does stray 
to our neighborhood. In my own opinion, 
his natural song, which I have often 
listened to in North Carolina, does not 
surpass that of our Brown Thrush, and 
the notes of the Song Thrush and the 
Hermit Thrush induce in us a far deeper 
religious feeling than do those of the 
Mocker. 
The little Golden-crowned Thrush is 
often called the Oven bird, from the 
character of its nest, which is usually 
built in a slight hollow in the earth, of 
dry leaves and grass, domed at top like 
the old-fashioned oven, the entrance 
being through a hole on its side. Visit 
the woods around Mt. Tom in late spring 
or early summer, and whenever you hear 
the notes, “‘I see, I see, I see,’ or 
‘Preacher, preacher, preacher,” with 
emphasis on the first syllable, and the 
strain repeated six or eight times louder 
and yet more loud, you may be quite 
