The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1901-03-10
MARCH n

tomorrow" we had heard our first brown
thrush song; but as 1t was a holiday "to-
day" might he not accommodate his travels
to our ardour and arrive a day earlier? AT
any rate, We entered what we called the
dark side OF the thicket with high hope.
II seemed dark because the trees crowd.ng
the slopes inclosing the little valley were
very tall and shrouded in ancient vines;
then the soil on either side Of the ample
stream was low and marshy.
The first sound was a blue bird note. We
saw him-shall we confess it-perched upon
a telegraph pole, warbling with animation
which astonished us. Was this the gentle
blue b~ird-touched by the wand Of spring?
We felt a personal antipathy towards that
pole for not being an apple tree-though 1t
would doubtless scorn the idea Of barter
ing it's lost identity as a stately cedar for
the commonplace existence of a gnarly
apple tree. If 1t could only have boosted
a bark of some kind. We tried to fancy
the blue bird had known it in happier days,
on some Tennessee mountain top had
sought shelter in it's tossing boughs; and
now was paying loyal tribute. Meanwhile.
the song FASTENED to a fine. delicately
rounded fi~nale-quite different from the
soft, blurred MARBLE so familiar to US. Then
on and on he sang again, in so rare a tone
that we could not stir. His copper breast
plate was so very pale that We queried
whether this could be a maiden singer I'M
til he fluttered down and we saw his blue,
blue back.
With bated breath we approached the
spot hallowed by last years hermit thrush
haunted only by memories to-day! 1t
was p-resumptuous to expect him TO re-
arrange his calendar. We solaced ourselves
for the moment with noting the slender
grace of a phoebe who circled about Us and
almost swept the earth with her pointed
wings. To me she looks more supple than
any other bird-she seems to have no
bones! Flickers cackled by the streamside.
and we disturbed a small colony of wreEs
there. They, the titmouse and the song
sparrow sang happily all through the day,
and a pair of chickadees chuckled in be-
tween. A stately bird mounted overhead
slowly, it's bordered tail betraying the SPAR
row hawk. Higher and higher it rose, till
we lost sight of it in the sky A wonderful
sky it was. too; IKE blue snow, it looked
so %liquid-as If you could bury your hands
in t-while wandering, fiaky clouds just
dimmed without hiding the azure.
If the brown thrush and the hermit
thrush failed to come at our behest the
pretty catkins of the swamp almost con-
soled us. They were eXquisitely dainty,
shading from silvery white to a. plushy
pink, from pale yellow deepening almost to
orange. But even they were not easily &C
cessible; to get them we tiptoed timorously
across a dead bough that but meagerly
spanned the bog. To us the catkins. like
the bluebird, seemed to need advice con-
corning environment, and the bog yawned
for US as If it read the thought.
The stream was full of song that day.
Wherever we gave it ear it gurgled some
soft lullaby so cool and refreshing that we
longed to hoard it for some July day. Be-
meath its higher tones we heard a kettle
drum softly beating.
This was on the other side of the thicket,
where our hopes again rose to the thought
of the brown thrush. A dozen times we
surely spied his ruddy back or long tail-so
we thought-but to lose him. Here field
sparrows sang and several times we heard
the odd, minor ditty belonging to none but
August days. We never tired of it, al
though, apart from torrid noon hours, it
seemed void of proper setting. Cardinals,
too, sang in every bower, while downy
woodpecker drummed a rather fiat accom-
paniment.
After luncheon beside the creek we fol-
lowed the path to the great oak browning
the hilltop. The old oak boosted a last years
thrush nest, but no thrush. The path led
along the crest of the hill into b~rier-walled
Businesses through which vagrant cows
had forced a winding thoroughfare. Some
times we came upon one who turned sullen-
ly away from our intrusion. Snatches of
whitethroat melody sifted through the
thicket inclosing us; it's charms will never
pail. Once came a comical 'spee, spee,"
and I said 'gnat catcher" but Diana
thought IL a jay. 1 was easily cowed into
silence, though unconvinced, and presently
the gnat catcher amiably came tumbling
through a willow In his usual acrobatic
style. He wished it understood that he had
come. His spring jerkin was so fresh and
gay as to be almost glazing in the greenery.
We were exhausted by our scramble
through the brier tunnel and rested on a
plank by the stream. Yet 1 could not quite
give up the brown thrush; so, alone, l
went back TO the oak and started anew.
Impelled to hunt the thrush, into the mud
and dampness. into the tangle OF dim
aisles; I followed wherever furtive flight
led, sometimes finding 1t towhee, some.
times cardinal, and again thicker or DlueJay.
At last I saw a patch Of rufus. Hasty
pursuit revealed a glimpse of red-brown
freckles on a creamy vest, and 1 had my
thrasher. Only for a second. however. he
is so very shy when spring is young.
1t had been tiresome and laborious.
Emerging by a thorn tree, 1 felt half In
clined not TO look at a bird crouched in
1t. Fortunately. I repented, and a gorgeous
parsonage filled my lenses for the first time.
The fox sparrow-no other: / well knew
the mouse-gray head. mosaic of red-browu
about the cheeks, gray rump, red-brown
wings and redder tail he boosted in the
books. His lovely white breast was mot
tied with foxy spots OF an almost angry
hue. All this I saw before he darted into
the tangled wilderness. He was ample con-
ISOLATION for half a dozen disappointments.
The others came at my call, determined
10 see all / had seen. l despaired OF hnd-
ing him. But Just as two other "birders"
Joined us the brown thrush flashed into
view. and with that encouragement We
swarmed into the briery labyrinth once
more. making as much noise as so many
cattle. We were too tired for a still hunt.
and leaves and twiss cracked warningly.