er-thrush, as described by Audubon,
but in other respects its general appearance was the same. It was a
great treat to me, and again I felt myself in luck.

This bird was unknown to the older ornithologists, and is but poorly
described by the new. It builds a mossy nest on the ground, or under
the edge of a decayed log. A correspondent writes me that he has found
it breeding on the mountains in Pennsylvania. The large-billed
water-thrush is much the superior songster, but the present species
has a very bright and cheerful strain. The specimen I saw, contrary to
the habits of the family, kept in the treetops like a warbler, and
seemed to be engaged in catching insects.

The birds were unusually plentiful and noisy about the head of this
lake; robins, blue jays, and woodpeckers greeted me with their
familiar notes. The blue jays found an owl or some wild animal a short
distance above me, and, as is their custom on such occasions,
proclaimed it at the top of their voices, and kept on till the
darkness began to gather in the woods.

I also heard here, as I had at two or three other points in the course
of the day, the peculiar, resonant hammering of some species of
woodpecker upon the hard, dry limbs. It was unlike any sound of the
kind I had ever before heard, and, repeated at intervals through the
silent woods, was a very marked and characteristic feature. Its
peculiarity was the ordered succession of the raps, which gave it the
character of a premeditated performance. There were first three
strokes following each other rapidly, then two much louder ones with
longer intervals between them. I heard the drumming here, and the next
day at sunset at Furlow Lake, the source of Dry Brook, and in no
instance was the order varied. There was melody in it, such as a
woodpecker knows how to evoke from a smooth, dry branch. It suggested
something quite as pleasing as the liveliest bird-song, and was if
anything more woodsy and wild. As the yellow-bellied woodpecker was
the most abundant species in these woods, I attributed it to him. It
is the one sound that still links itself with those scenes in my mind.

At sunset the grouse began to drum in all parts of the woods about the
lake. I could hear five at one time, _thump, thump, thump, thump,
thr-r-r-r-r-r-rr_. It was a homely, welcome sound. As I returned to
camp at twilight, along the shore of the lake, the frogs also were in
full chorus. The older ones ripped out their response