, rubbing his face against something he
found there, and evidently enjoying sufficient society in his own
thoughts, for to him plainly it was still

"A woodland enchanted."

Then came a week of unwonted glory, of distinguished visitors. All the
summer birds had hovered over it; toward evening the night hawk circled
high in air above it, uttering his wild, quaint cry, collecting food for
his little family, no doubt safely reposing on some gravel roof near by.

[Sidenote: _A RARE VISITOR._]

And there were always the city sparrows. They had taken possession of a
vine, which, clambering up the back of one of the houses bordering the
lot, had burst into sudden luxuriance when it found itself without
further support at the eaves, spreading out each side, and clinging for
dear life to the roof, making a delightful screen, as well as a
comfortable site for many bird homes. Indeed, there seemed to be a
populous bird village behind the green curtain, and great disturbances
sometimes occurred, and I could hear the excited voices of the residents
till darkness put an end to their discussions. One cool October day, as
I sat at my window I heard a strange bird note, and my ready glass in a
moment revealed a rare visitor indeed,--a thrasher. He stood on the edge
of a roof silhouetted against the sky, tossing his tail in excitement,
and peering eagerly into the yards opened out before him. Suddenly he
dashed into a tall rosebush leaning on the back fence of the empty lot,
and busied himself a few moments, perhaps with the rose hips; then
finding that too near the four-footed inhabitants, he retired to the
roof, looked to see that no plebeian sparrows were at home in the vine,
then plunged into that and disappeared behind its ample foliage. Here he
spent some time getting the berries, as I could see, and during his
occupancy no sparrow entered, though some flew by. All day he remained
in the vicinity; but at night I suppose he resumed his journey
southward, for I saw him no more.

One day a pair of juncos appeared on the scene, mingling fraternally
with the sparrows, and sharing their usual pickings around back doors
and along the back fence, and white-throated sparrows showed themselves
on the shrubs and small trees which overhung the division walls.

But the crowning day of the empty lot came still later, when a
fairy-like kinglet hunted over the rosebushes, and that shy woods
dweller, the hermit thrush, condescended to show