The cinnamon-brown, spotted-breasted hermit-thrush of our northern pine woods can "throw" his voice, too. He is as shy as the tanager. Perhaps both of them do that to deceive hawks and squirrels and other enemies as to their whereabouts. The tanager's mate is a dull olive and yellow. Very soon he, too, takes off his scarlet and black cloak, that attract far too much attention, and wears her shabby working dress. So, if you see the tanager in his dress of flame and soot at all, it must be in the spring or early summer.

Wood-Thrush

"Tweet, tweet, twitter, twitter, tweet!" Haven't you heard that often from roadside weeds, where dandelions and thistles have gone to seed? No, it isn't the speckled song-sparrow of the low bushes. It is a little black and yellow cousin of his—the gold-finch, or wild canary. Canary yellow with black wings and tail, he flies as a little canoe rides the water. Such a playful, sweet-tempered, " tweet, twittering " little fellow he is. He seems to waste half the summer idling, but he is really waiting for those downy weed seeds to line his pretty nest and to feed his babies.

The finest singers of America are thrushes, blackbirds and finches. The finches all have the canary twittering songs; the blackbirds the whistling, bubbling notes. The songs of the thrushes are pure rich melody, and many of them mock the songs of the warblers, the finches and the blackbirds. Another twittering finch is the snow-white and dead-black, short-billed grosbeak, with the patches of lovely rose color on the breast and under the wings. The cardinal grosbeak, or Virginia nightingale, is a finch, too, His voice is so fine that this ruby-coated and crested singer is often caged, as is his cousin the canary.

The eaves of the doctor's barn was a great place for swallows. A big colony of them skimmed and wheeled about, the sun glistening on their blue-black forked wings and tails. They chattered, scolded intruders, and sang sweet gossipy songs to each other. The wrens came right up to the house and sang from the roof, the low bushes and the ground. Bill up, perky tail jerking about, this merry singer is a nervous little scold at times. "Five inches of brown fury in feathers," the doctor called Mrs. Jennie Wren. She scolded the house cat, she scolded big policeman-dog, Rob Roy, who was really guarding her family. She scolded every human body about the place. She even scolded that bird-bully, Mr. Blue Jay. He didn't get to come near her eggs! Plucky little Mama Wren! She is the gritty little terrier of the bird world.

Goldfinch

Blue Jay

Only the blue jay can rival the wren as a scold. A handsome fellow he is, in six shades of blue, black, white and dove color. He has a crested head, stout bill, excited wings, a terrible squalling voice and stamping feet. He is always ready for a scrap. He is a good deal of a blusterer, and one pair of blue jays is quite enough for the peace of a small garden. He'll tell you who he is as soon as he comes, by squalling his name: "Jay, Jay, Jay!"

The king-bird is as trim as you please in a coat of iron gray, a pearl bib and an orange-red patch on his head. He cries: "Ky-rie, Ky-ky, ki-yi," much like a very small yelping dog. He is a cousin of the phoebe and wood-pewee, belonging to the fly-catcher family. Old red-head, the dark-blue, black and white wood pecker, with the red hood, just chuckles and drums. His, cousin, the flicker, or golden-wing or yellow-hammer, laughs and chatters and drums, and plays tag around tree trunks. You can always know the woodpeckers by their drumming, the big black crows by their cawing, the scary-eyed owls by their who-who-ing, the doves by their mourning, the cuckoos and the jays by their calling their own names.

You will have to have very sharp eyes and ears to see the butterfly hovering of the humming bird—ruby-throat —and to hear its tiny mouse-like squeak. And among the noisy orchard orioles in the apple trees, the

quaker-brown-and-fawn colored cedar birds are apt to pass unnoticed. You may know them by the brown crest on the head, the black spectacles around the eyes, and the row of red, wax-like spots across the wing tips. They are also called cherry-birds and wax-wings. They have no song, only a call note, and soft, polite, talking tones. Their manners are as beautiful as those of the blue-birds. They dress each other's coats with the sweetest little bows and lisping apologies, as much as to say: "Pardon me, but there's a feather out ot place."

Kingbird

There are ever so many more birds in our gardens, woods and fields. Mr. John Burroughs says forty or fifty song birds visit us every summer. Most of them belong to the families of the thrushes, the finches, the blackbirds, the wrens, swallows, woodpeckers, flycatchers and little warblers. It is the small birds that sing. And you can tell what family a bird belongs to by its song and its food habits, more than by its colors or its nest. How many of our wild birds do you know? Their names and a good many of their pictures are in this book. (See Birds, Thrush, Bluebird, Mocking Bird, Robin, Catbird, Cowbird, Blackbird, Meadowlark, Oriole, Baltimore Oriole, Bobolink, Tanager, Finch, Goldfinch, Song-sparrow, Grosbeak, Cardinalbird, Swallow, Swift, Martin, Wren, Jaybird, Kingbird, Phoebe, Pewee, Titmouse (chickadee), Towhee, Cedarbird, Hummingbird, Woodpecker, Flicker, Sap-sucker, Owl, Dove, Warbler.)