the other warblers of my acquaintance. He flits about
among the branches in rather a leisurely way--for a warbler; but his main
characteristic is his unwarbler-like fashion of clinging back downward to
the under side of the twigs, after the manner of the chickadee, in order
to secure the nits and worms under the leaves. He acts decidedly like a
diminutive trapeze performer.

His song consists of an insect-like buzz, divided into stanzas of two
syllables each, with a pensive strain running through it, as if the heart
of the little singer were filled with sadness. While it sounds rather
faint at a distance, close at hand it has a strangely penetrating quality.

Although my numerous efforts to find a blue-wing's nest were unavailing,
I had the satisfaction of proving beyond doubt that these birds breed in
northeastern Kansas. A quaint, squeaking call attracted my attention one
day, and I found that it proceeded from the throat of a young blue-wing
perched in the bushes, for presently the mamma came and thrust a morsel
into the open mouth of the bantling. Some young birds sit quietly and
patiently, waiting for their rations, and utter only a faint twitter when
they are fed; but the youthful blue-wings are not of so contented and
silent a disposition. On the contrary, they are noisy little fellows,
making their presence known to friend and foe alike, although they are
very careful never to permit the human observer to come too close. They
are duly warned of danger by their ever-vigilant parents. Sometimes a
youngster will sit on the same perch for a long time, preening his
feathers and uttering a little call at intervals, just to keep in
practice, as it were; while at other times he will pursue his parents
about in the woods, loudly demanding his dinner. One season I succeeded
in finding at least five pairs of these warblers, in company with their
clamorous broods. The nest is set on the ground in the bushes and grass
of second-growth timber tracts. Lined with tendrils and fine strips of
bark, it is "firmly wrapped with numerous leaves, whose stems point
upward." Another haunter of the dusky depths of the woods is the
ovenbird. His song is one of the most peculiar in warblerdom. Beginning
in moderate tones, it grows louder and louder as it nears the end, and
really seems like a voice moving toward you. This bird also walks about
in the woods, and does not hop, as most of his relatives do. As he walks
about o