whispered Olive; "our Thrasher is singing now in the birch tree,
where you can both see and hear him."

"That's a sure sign his nest is not very near," said Rap; "for they
never sing close by their nests." This Thrasher was clinging to the end
of a slender branch, one claw above the other, so that his head, which
was thrown back, looked straight up to the sky. He seemed to be half
talking and half singing, as if giving directions to some unseen
performer, then following these by two or three clear notes.

"What is he saying?" said Dodo.

"He is telling you who he is, and what he sees from the tree-top," said
the Doctor. "Olive, dear, I am going to repeat to the children the
jingle you made about the Thrasher." Though Olive then blushed and said
it was only nonsense, the children were delighted with it.

"My creamy breast is speckled
(Perhaps you'd call it freckled)
Black and brown.

"My pliant russet tail
Beats like a frantic flail,
Up and down.

"In the top branch of a tree
You may chance to glance at me,
When I sing.

"But I'm very, _very_ shy,
When I silently float by,
On the wing.

"_Whew_ there! _Hi_ there! Such a clatter!
What's the matter--what's the matter?
Really, really?

"Digging, delving, raking, sowing,
Corn is sprouting, corn is growing!
Plant it, plant it!
Gather it, gather it!
Thresh it, thresh it!
Hide it, hide it, do!
(I see it--and you.)
Oh!--I'm that famous scratcher,
_H-a-r-p-o-r-h-y-n-c-h-u-s r-u-f-u-s_--Thrasher--
Cloaked in brown."

[Illustration: The Brown Thrasher]

The Brown Thrasher

Length eleven inches.

Above bright reddish-brown, with two light bands on each wing.

Beneath yellowish-white, spotted with very dark brown on the breast and
the sides.

Very long tail--about five inches--fan-shaped.

A Summer Citizen of the United States east of the Rocky Mountains.

A famous Ground Gleaner and Seed Sower.

THE ROCK WREN

When the children had finished applauding Olive's poetry--or was it
really the Thrasher's own performance?--the Doctor went on:

"We have seen that the West has one sort of a Thrasher in the
sage-brush, and the East another, in our own gardens. I also told you
that these birds were a kind of overgrown Wren; and before we call upon
Mrs. Jenny Wren, I want to tell you about a bigger relative of hers that
Olive and I knew when we were in the Rocky Mountains. He i