THE HERMIT THRUSH
The Hermit Thrush may be described in superlatives. Of the four commoner thrushes, it comes earliest (in March or early April) on its way to its haunts in northern woods, remains longest (till October or November), and is considered by many to be the finest singer of a highly gifted family.
It is so very shy that it is rarely seen and yet, during migration time, I once discovered a solitary hermit in a tree on a vacant lot only a few blocks from the business center of Cleveland. Because we sit quietly for hours at a time in the Maine woods, we have been vouchsafed many glimpses of its olive-brown back, its reddish-brown tail (the mark of identification), and its rather thickly spotted white and brown breast. We have noticed its habit of raising its tail as it alighted; we have heard its call-note chuck.
Moore’s Rock, Castine, Maine, commands an enchanting view of Penobscot Bay, of distant hills, and of spruce woods that are tenanted by veeries, olive-backed, and hermit thrushes. There we make frequent pilgrimages, to hear them sing at sunset.
Beneath glowing skies and in the silence, the hermit raises his exquisitely modulated voice in a strain of ethereal beauty; pauses, then in a higher key, repeats it; a third time, with still loftier elevation of tone, he sings,—and sings again.
More than once at twilight, a white fog has moved in from the bay and enveloped us as we listened. The voices of these thrushes, proceeding from the sea of mist, have seemed more like those of spirits from another world than of birds—unspeakably uplifting and full of significance.