k his picture. See him--head up, and tail up. He steps along
carefully. He feels that it is risky to leave his shelter and is ready
at the first sign of danger, to dart back under cover.

There are very few fresh-water marshes where the Rail is not found.

When a boy, I loved to hear their note calls and would spend hours on
the edge of a marsh near my home.

It seemed to me there was no life among the reeds and cat-tails of the
marsh, but when I threw a stone among them, the Rails would always
answer with their _peeps_ or _keeks_.

And so I used to go down to the marsh with my pockets filled with
stones. Not that I desired or even expected to injure one of these
birds. Far from it. It pleased me to hear their calls from the reeds
and grass that seemed deserted.

Those of you who live near wild-rice or wild-oat marshes have a good
chance to become acquainted with this Rail.

In the south these Rails are found keeping company with the Bobolinks
or Reed-birds as they are called down there.

THE KENTUCKY WARBLER.

Although this bird is called the Kentucky Warbler, we must not think
he visits that state alone.

We find him all over eastern North America. And a beautiful bird he
is.

As his name tells you he is one of a family of Warblers.

I told you somewhere else that the Finches are the largest family of
birds. Next to them come the Warblers.

Turn back now and see how many Warblers have been pictured so far.

See if you can tell what things group them as a family. Notice their
bills and feet.

This bird is usually found in the dense woods, especially where there
are streams of water.

He is a good singer, and his song is very different from that of any
of the other Warblers.

I once watched one of these birds--olive-green above and yellow
beneath. His mate was on a nest near by and he was entertaining her
with his song.

He kept it up over two hours, stopping only a few seconds between his
songs. When I reached the spot with my field-glass I was attracted by
his peculiar song. I don't know how long he had been singing. I stayed
and spent two hours with him and he showed no signs of stopping. He
may be singing yet. I hope he is.

You see him here perched on a granite cliff. I suppose his nest is
near by.

He makes it of twigs and rootlets, with several thicknesses of leaves.
It is neatly lined with fine rootlets and you will always find it on
or near the ground.

In the September and O