The song of the Black-throated Green Warbler is so unlike that of the other warblers that it becomes an important characteristic of the species. Mr. Chapman says, “There is a quality about it like the droning of bees; it seems to voice the restfulness of a midsummer day.”
Those who wish to observe this bird and cannot go to its nesting retreats, in the evergreen forests, must seek in any wooded land during its migrations to and from the tropics, where it finds an abundance of food during the rigors of our northern winters.
A LIBEL ON THE BIRDS.
A few days ago I was watching the curious actions of a sparrow on the sidewalk in a rather quiet part of town. On either side of the street were lofty brick and stone buildings, with the usual multiplicity of little niches and cavities in and about the projecting cornices and ornamental architecture. These sheltered and inviting ledges had been utilized from year to year by divers smaller tribes of the feathered folk as nest-building sites, and the little bird which had attracted my attention had already laid the foundation timbers of its prospective house in a cosy niche of the cornice almost directly over my head where I was standing.
It was plainly evident that the sprightly creature was seeking sticks of proper length and strength to barricade a broad hiatus in the front part of the cavity it had chosen for its future home.
This opening was angular in form with the vertex at the bottom and its sides separating outwards towards the top, where there was a span of perhaps four or five inches.
As I stood with my elbow resting against the low paling the confiding sparrow hopped to within a yard or two of my feet in searching for tiny twigs that had fallen from the overhanging shrubbery.
It picked up a great many pieces and as quickly dropped them. Then it would stand perfectly still for a few minutes intently scanning the limited landscape as if in a brown study as to what move it should next make.
Finally it set vigorously to work picking up bits of material from an inch or two to six inches in length. Instead of flying away with a load it dropped them in a little heap nearly if not quite parallel to each other. Then poking its beak into the pile and throwing the sticks hither and thither it settled down to practical business by seizing a stick of medium length and flying away with its burden dangling in the air. Of course, I watched the little architect and saw her mount straight up to the chosen ledge and deposit the twig exactly crosswise of the gaping notch. This operation she repeated several times, always throwing the sticks about as if intent upon selecting a piece of special dimensions. No human carpenter with measuring rule in his hand could have been more expert.
In a moment the truth flashed into my mind and I realized that I was verily the human pupil of a little bird made famous by honored mention in Holy Writ.