find
sanction in books. Let us repudiate the name of "Thrasher" for the Red
Thrush, as we would repudiate any other solecism.

The Red Mavis, or Thrush, is most musical in the early part of the
season, when he first arrives, or in the month of May; the Veery is most
vocal in June, and the Wood-Thrush in July; the Cat-Bird begins early
and sings late, and fills out with his quaint notes the remainder of the
singing season, after the others have become silent. When one is in a
thoughtful mood, the songs of the Wood-Thrush and the Veery surpass all
others on their delightful influence; and when I am strolling in the
solitary pastures, it seems to me that nothing can exceed the simple
melody of the Wood-Sparrow. But without claiming for the Red Thrush any
remarkable power of exciting poetic inspiration, his song in the open
field has a charm for all ears, and can be appreciated by the dullest of
minds. Without singing badly, he pleases the millions. He sings
occasionally at all hours of the day, and, when employed in singing,
devotes himself entirely to song, with evident enthusiasm.

It would be difficult, either by word or by note, to give one who has
never heard the song of the Red Thrush a correct idea of it. This bird
is not a rapid singer. His performances seem to be a sort of
_recitative_, often resembling spoken words, rather than musical notes,
many of which are short and guttural. He seldom whistles clearly, like
the Robin, but he produces a charming variety of tone and modulation.
Thoreau, in one of his quaint descriptions, gives an off-hand sketch of
the bird, which I will quote:--"Near at hand, upon the topmost spray of
a birch, sings the Brown Thrasher, or Red Mavis, as some love to call
him,--all the morning glad of your society, that would find out another
farmer's field, if yours were not here. While you are planting the seed,
he cries,--'Drop it, drop it,--cover it up, cover it up,--pull it up,
pull it up, pull it up.'"

We have now left the forest and are approaching the cultivated grounds,
under the shade of those fully expanded trees which have grown without
restraint in the open field. Here as well as in the wood we find the
Pewee, or Phoebe. (_Muscicapa nunciola_,) one of our most common and
interesting birds. He seems to court solitude, and his peculiar note
harmonizes well with his obscure and shady retreats. He sits for the
most part in the shade, catching his feast of insects without any noise,