"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."
"It is not easy to say why he was named so," said the Doctor, "unless it is because he builds his nest higher up in trees than most of his Thrush kin. I am very glad you have had a chance to hear and see him at the same time; for he is one of the home birds you must make a place for in your very inside heart, with the Bluebird and Robin, though he does not return from his winter outing until after these two have begun nesting."
"When he comes we are sure not only that it is Spring, but that Spring is in a pleasant, good-natured mood—that she is through with the tempers and crying fits she suffers from in March and April, and is kissing the buds of the early blossoms of May, coaxing them to open their eyes. When you see the first Wood Thrush hopping among last year's leaves, you may look for jack-in-the-pulpit's pointed nose and green and purple hood.
"As soon as this Thrush makes up his mind to settle in a certain place, he calls a mate to him with his thrilling song and begins house-building. From this time until he moults, late in July, every one in his vicinity may enjoy a free concert morning and evening, and at intervals during the day. Sometimes in cloudy weather he even sings at noon—a time when birds are most likely to be silent.