Los Angeles herald., 1908-05-10

fairly driven from the field by sheer weari-
ness 4
What would I not have given to know the
name OF that CAV. minstrel? Could it have
been a-a-I thought over a long list Of birds
that had read about but not SEEN but of
course could not come to any conclusion as to
the identity Of the bird in question,
Years passed, and yet that song fingered
IN my ears. l was ever on the alert to hear
1T again.
At last, one day in early spring, was lying
on the ground, in the woods near which 1
i've, watching red-breasted woodpecker
drumming on high branch, when-what was
that!
! was on my feet in second. with all my
Out of the deep seclusion of the woods a
song Heated, and it was song | had heard
long ago.
Now the owner of that peculiar note should
"Te-cha, te-cha. te-chal" the song echoed
beginning rather low and growing louder to-
ward the end
| crept stealthily through the snarl of
bushes toward the singer. Then the song
ceased. Breathlessly I waited Again it rose
OF the air; this time near at hand.
Continuing my quest, | was at length star
tlcd by the twinkle of feathers, and a strange
bird fitted from bush to the ground, where
instead of hopping as most birds do, and pick
ing up tidbit here and there.
INSTANTLY had almost said instinctiyely-I
knew him, although | had never seen him be-
fore
| capped my hands and exclaimed:
The golden-crowned thrush! Oh, how beauti-
full. How graceful"
II seemed as if the woodland were sort of
fairyland, and the little birds before me were
the king of the elfin community.
1t was easy to get his markings for he did
not seem to be shy. The crown was orange
brown, bordered on each side by a narrow
band of black running from the forehead to
the nape; the lower parts, were white, thickly
spotted with dark gray; the back bright olive
green. and white ring encircled the eye.
But was this the bird whose song had just
heard? That was the problem to be solved,
He walked on slowly as | followed. keeping
AT length, however, | got too close for his
comfort, and so he few up to a sapling twig,
and there, right before my eyes, broke into
song son 1t was the lay had previously heard,
You know, l suppose, what ventriloquist
| is? A person who can throw his voice where
be wants to- Well, this little sprite in feath-
ers Is ventriloquist. 1t is difficult to tell
he pitches his voice far off when he actually
is in the sapling right above your head; and
then he may seem to be very near when he
is really several rods away. Then, when he
| begins his song, it sounds quite remote but
as it grows louder and louder it seems to be
coming nearer, until you feel sure the bird
must be in the bushes before you; but, on
| seeking for him, he is not to be found 1t IS
a queer vocal trick
l have often noticed that if you once find
a new bird, you are sure to find him soon
again. After my first meeting with this
thrush with the golden crown, ] often en-
countered him in the woods.
He must have tarried here FIVE or six
weeks, and l had begun to think he would
remain all summer, and even looked for his
nest. but at last he winged his fight 80 his
breeding haunts farther north.
His nest is one of the curi0sities of house.
building, even among feathered architects.
By the way, l forgot to say that he is often
called the oven-bird, ON account of the Pc
culiar form of his nest, which has a dome
shaped roof and doorway at the side-a
kind of Eskimo hut, built of twigs leaves and
moss, instead of blocks of snow and ice
What coy cottage it is! And how warm
and snug for the young household to be reared
there!
Look for the nest on the ground beside a
log, OF in depressions the hillside.
Our little oven-bulder does not remain very
long at his summering place, for by the mid
die of September l again find him in my
neighborhood as sedate and dignifed as If
he had not been on jaunt.
He is quite a traveller and every year jour
neys southwark to the West Indies, Mexico
and Central America, where he spends the
winter.