Through all the southern and middle parts of the States he only pays
visits during the fall, winter, and early spring. At these seasons he
rarely sings, and spends his time in hopping about the underbrush,
searching for insects. In spring and autumn you will see him about the
magnolia trees in your yard or garden, or in the hedges along roads and
the edges of light woods, where wild berries are plentiful. The name of
Hermit would naturally make you expect to find a very shy bird, but he
is not--only he likes his own company in secret places. When on his
travels, unlike most birds, and like all good children in story books,
he is oftener seen than heard. At this time you must look for him on or
near the ground, for he is a famous Ground Gleaner.

"At first you may mistake him for a Wood Thrush. But look again--he is
smaller; the spots on the breast are more joined together like stripes;
the rump and tail are a very _reddish_-brown like ripe chestnuts,
different from the _greenish_-brown on the back and head. You will be
sure to notice this, for the Hermit jerks his tail about when he feeds
on the ground, giving a little warning call that sounds like 'chek!
chek!'"

[Illustration: Hermit Thrush]

"If you should happen to spend the summer among the mountains of New
York, New England, or northern Michigan, and see the Hermit in his
nesting home, you would find him quite another character, true to his
name. There he is shy--or perhaps cautious would be a better word to
describe the way in which he keeps the secrets of his precious nest. He
loves the little moist valleys between the pine-clad mountains, where a
bit of light woods is made an island by the soft bog-moss that surrounds
it. There, feeling quite secure, he makes his nest upon the ground, of
moss, leaves, pine-needles, and other such litter; and the eggs that it
holds are very nearly the color of the Robin's, without any spots.

"He goes a little way from home, a bit up the mountain side, so that
House People and squirrels, both of whom are sometimes cruel enough to
steal eggs, may not know exactly where he lives; and then he begins to
sing. His brother Thrushes have louder voices and know more brilliant
songs; but when the Hermit reaches his high notes, that sound as clear
as the music of a mountain brook, a strange feeling will suddenly come
over you. You will forget that you belong to House People and that he is
a bird; you will think he is telling you somet