Says our nature-poet, Emerson:--

"You often thread the woods in vain
To see what singer piped the strain.
Seek not, and the little eremite
Flies forth and gayly sings in sight."

And the bird student can testify to the truth of the verse.

Many times, after having spent the morning in wandering about in the
bird haunts of a neighborhood, I have returned to my room to write up my
note-book, and have seen more of birds and bird life in an hour from my
window than during the whole morning's stroll.

One of my windows, last summer, looked out upon an ideal bird corner: a
bit of grass, uncut till very late, with a group of trees and shrubs at
the lower boundary, and an old board fence, half buried in luxuriant
wild raspberry bushes, running along one side. It was a neglected spot,
the side yard of a farmhouse; and I was careful not to enter it myself
so often as to suggest to the birds that they were likely to see people.
It had the further advantage of being so near the woods surrounding the
house, that the shy forest birds were attracted to it.

No sooner would I seat myself, pen in hand, than chirps and twitters
would come from the trees, a bird alight on the fence, or a red squirrel
come out to sun himself. Of course the pen gave way to the opera-glass
in a moment, and often not a line of the note-book got itself written
till birds and squirrels had gone to bed with the sun.

The group of trees which bounded my view at the end of this outdoor
study I called the "locust group." It consisted of a locust or two,
surrounded by a small but close growth of lesser trees and shrubs that
made a heavy mass of foliage. There were a few young ashes, two or three
half-grown maples, a shadberry bush, and wild raspberry vines to carry
the varied foliage to the ground. Inside this beautiful tangle of
Nature's own arranging, was a perfect tent, so thickly grown near the
ground that a person could hardly penetrate it without an axe, but open
and roomy above, with branches and twigs enough to accommodate an army
of birds. Behind that waving green curtain of leaves took place many
dramas I longed to see; but I knew that my appearance there would be a
signal for the whole scene to vanish, and with flit of wings the
_dramatis personae_ to make their exit. So I tried to possess my soul in
patience, and to content myself with the flashes and glimpses I could
catch through an opening here and there in the leafy drapery.

At one