intance of this,
our fourth nesting-veery of the summer.

The parents were absent when I seated myself at some distance from their
homestead to wait. They soon came, together, with food in their mouths;
but their eager, happy manner vanished at sight of me, and they
abandoned themselves to utter despair, after the manner of veeries. They
stood motionless on neighboring perches, and cried and bewailed the
anticipated fate of those babies for all of the short time that I was
able to endure it. A kingbird came to the tree under which I sat, to see
for himself the terrible bugaboo, and a robin or two, as usual,
interested themselves in the affairs of a neighbor in trouble.

Thirty minutes proved to be as long as I could bring myself to stay, and
then I meekly retired to the furthest corner of the field, where I made
myself as inconspicuous as possible, and hoped I might be allowed to
remain. Kingbird and robins accepted the compromise and returned to
their own affairs; but the veeries by turns fed the babies and reviled
me from a tree near my retreat, till I took pity on their distress and
left the orchard altogether.

Not only does the veery exhibit this strong liking for solitude, and
express the loneliness of the woods more perfectly than any other bird,
with the exception, perhaps, of the wood-pewee; but his calls and cries
are all plaintive, many of them sensational, and one or two really
tragic.

His most common utterance, as he flits lightly from branch to branch, is
a low, sweet "quee-o," sometimes hardly above a whisper. When everything
is quiet about him one may often hear an extraordinary performance.
Beginning the usual call of "quee-o," in a tender and mournful tone, he
will repeat it again and again at short intervals, every time with more
pathetic inflection, till the wrought-up listener cannot resist the
feeling that the next sound must be a burst of tears. Although his notes
seem melancholy to hearers, however, the beautiful bird himself is far
from expressing that emotion in his manner.

Aside from the enchanting quality of his calls, and the thrilling
magnetism of his song, the tawny thrush is an exceedingly interesting
bird. In his reserved way he is socially inclined, showing no dislike to
an acquaintance with his human neighbors, and even evincing a curiosity
and willingness to be friendly, most winning to see.

Speak to one who, as you passed, has flown up from the ground and
alighted on the lo