Under parts brick-red, except the black and white streaked throat and under the tail.

A Citizen of the United States and Canada.

A Ground Gleaner, Tree Trapper, and Seed Sower.

THE WOOD THRUSH

One pleasant evening after tea, but before sunset, the Doctor sent Nat to ask Rap to come up to the Farm, as they were all going for a walk through the orchard and the river woods.

“What birds will you tell us about to-night?” asked Dodo, as they stood in the porch waiting for the boys.

“Cousins of the Bluebird—­more cousins—­but really the heads of the Silver-tongued Family.  They wear much plainer clothes than the Bluebirds and Robins, on their olive or russet-brown backs and light-tinted, dark-spotted breasts, but have the most beautiful voices in all Birdland.  The names of these wonderful singers, who make a musical quartette, are Wood Thrush, Hermit Thrush, Wilson’s Thrush, and Olive-backed Thrush; but you will have to keep both your eyes and ears open to learn to tell them apart and name them rightly.”

“There has been the beautifullest bird singing in the big elm on the lawn for more than an hour, but I don’t know his name and I want to ever so much.  Do you think he might be one of these Thrushes?  He is singing now, Uncle Roy.”  And Dodo began tugging at the Doctor’s hand, to lead him down the steps.  They saw Nat and Rap coming along the road, and the Doctor motioned to them to walk quietly, so that Dodo’s bird might continue his song.

“What is it?  What are you waiting for?” whispered Nat.  “A bird?  Where?”

The bird answered Nat’s question itself, telling him by its song in what part of the tree it was perching.  “Hea-r-me, Hea-r-me,” it called; and then followed a short song as if two musical instruments were playing together.  The bird seemed well pleased with his performance, and perfectly unconscious of the group of House People who were listening to him; for he repeated the strain over and over again.

“It’s almost as big as a Robin,” said Dodo.

“But its breast is speckled in big spots,” said Nat.  “I wish I could see the top of it.  There, it has flown to a lower branch, and its back is kind of rusty-brown.  What is its name, Uncle Roy?”

“Rap knows, I’m sure,” said the Doctor.

“It’s a Wood Thrush,” said Rap.  “People call them Wood Robins, too, sometimes.  I think that one, or his brother, has a nest in the spruce back of your house.”

“Uoli-uoli, a-e-o-lee-lee!” sang the Thrush; and as the children became accustomed to the song they noticed that six or eight other Silver-tongues were singing the same tune in different parts of the orchard and garden.  It sounded as if the evening breeze were stirring Aeolian harps.

“Why is he called the Wood Thrush?” asked Rap.  “I’ve hardly ever seen him in the real woods—­he loves to be in gardens and orchards.  The trees round the miller’s house are full of them.”