ead. He
is the least ostentatious singer I know of. He does not strike an
attitude, and lift up his head in preparation, and, as it were, clear
his throat; but sits there on the log and pours out his music, looking
straight before him, or even down at the ground. As a songster, he has
but few superiors. I do not hear him after the first week in July.

While sitting on this soft-cushioned log, tasting the pungent acidulous
wood-sorrel (_Oxalis acetorella_), the blossoms of which, large and
pink-veined, rise everywhere above the moss, a rufous-colored bird flies
quickly past, and, alighting on a low limb a few rods off, salutes me
with "Whew! Whew!" or "Whoit! Whoit!" almost as you would whistle for
your dog. I see by his impulsive, graceful movements, and his dimly
speckled breast, that it is a Thrush. Presently he utters a few soft,
mellow, flute-like notes, one of the most simple expressions of melody
to be heard, and scuds away, and I see it is the Veery or Wilson's
Thrush. He is the least of the Thrushes in size, being about that of the
common Bluebird, and he may be distinguished from his relatives by the
dimness of the spots upon his breast. The Wood-Thrush has very clear,
distinct oval spots on a white ground; in the Hermit, the spots run more
into lines, on a ground of a faint bluish-white; in the Veery, the marks
are almost obsolete, and a few rods off his breast presents only a dull
yellowish appearance. To get a good view of him you have only to sit
down in his haunts, as in such cases he seems equally anxious to get a
good view of you.

From those tall hemlocks proceeds a very fine insect-like warble, and
occasionally I see a spray _teeter_, or catch the flit of a wing. I
watch and watch till my head grows dizzy and my neck is in danger of
permanent displacement, and still do not get a good view. Presently the
bird darts, or, as it seems, falls down a few feet in pursuit of a fly
or moth, and I see the whole of it, but in the dim light am undecided.
It is for such emergencies that I have brought this gun. A bird in the
hand is worth half a dozen in the bush, even for ornithological
purposes; and no sure and rapid progress can be made in the study
without taking life, without procuring specimens. This bird is a
Warbler, plainly enough, from his habits and manner; but what kind of
Warbler? Look on him and name him: a deep orange or flame-colored throat
and breast; the same color showing also in a line over the