verent red squirrels,
however, run and snicker at my approach, or mock the solitude with
their ridiculous chattering and frisking.

This nook is the chosen haunt of the winter wren. This is the
only place and these the only woods in which I find him in this
vicinity. His voice fills these dim aisles, as if aided by some
marvelous sounding-board. Indeed, his song is very strong for so
small a bird, and unites in a remarkable degree brilliancy and
plaintiveness. I think of a tremulous vibrating tongue of silver.
You may know it is the song of a wren, from its gushing lyrical
character; but you must needs look sharp to see the little
minstrel, especially while in the act of singing. He is nearly the
color of the ground and the leaves; he never ascends the tall
trees, but keeps low, flitting from stump to stump and from root
to root, dodging in and out of his hiding-places, and watching all
intruders with a suspicious eye. He has a very pert, almost
comical look. His tail stands more than perpendicular: it points
straight toward his head. He is the least ostentatious singer I
know of. He does not strike an attitude, and lift up his head in
preparation, and, as it were, clear his throat; but sits there on
a log and pours out his music, looking straight before him, or
even down at the ground. As a songster, he has but few superiors.
I do not hear him after the first week in July.

While sitting on this soft-cushioned log, tasting the pungent
acidulous wood-sorrel, the blossoms of which, large and pink-veined,
rise everywhere above the moss, a rufous-colored bird flies quickly
past, and, alighting on a low limb a few rods off, salutes me with
"Whew! Whew!" or "Whoit! Whoit!" almost as you would whistle for
your dog. I see by his impulsive, graceful movements, and his dimly
speckled breast, that it is a thrush. Presently he utters a few
soft, mellow, flute-like notes, one of the most simple expressions
of melody to be heard, and scuds away, and I see it is the veery, or
Wilson's thrush. He is the least of the thrushes in size, being
about that of the common bluebird, and he may be distinguished from
his relatives by the dimness of the spots upon his breast. The wood
thrush has very clear, distinct oval spots on a white ground; in the
hermit, the spots run more into lines, on a ground of a faint bluish
white; in the veery, the marks are almost obsolete, and a few rods
off his breast presents only a dull yellowish appearance.