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Many of the nests, I suspect, were amongst the reeds which were growing out of the water. Subsequently, on July the 12th, I found another Reed Warbler's nest amongst some reeds growing by Mr.
"All loves around us: all around is heard, Hard by the warbler's quivering kiss, That voiceless song of flowers, which the lark, by love distracted, to his mate translates." He returned to the parsonage with a light step, hearing the birds singing in the lime-trees the same joyous song which his own heart was singing.
I found the nest only about a foot away from the perch of the young bird a deep, neat little basket, compactly felted with down and plant fibers, set in the crotch of a slender bush of the thicket. It was certainly too small to accommodate any tenants besides the strapping young cowbird. In the spring of 1902 another hooded warbler's nest rewarded my search.
Even the chipping sparrow, whose lay is yet more monotonous and formal than the pine warbler's, is not absolutely confined to his score. I once heard him when his trill was divided into two portions, the concluding half being much higher than the other unless my ear was at fault, exactly an octave higher. This singular refrain was given out six or eight times without the slightest alteration.
Some grasshoppers perhaps come nearest to it; but the most sustained current of sound emitted by the insect is short compared to the warbler's strain, also the vibrations are very much more rapid, and not heard as vibrations, and the same effect is not produced.
"Why don't you live up here where you can get plenty of fresh air and sunshine?" he asked. "Don't you know they'd be good for your health?" Grandfather Mole turned his head toward the speaker. That was as near as he could come to staring at him, since he couldn't see him. Grandfather Mole did not like the Worm-eating Warbler's remarks in the least!
Indeed, the warbler's favorite method of going about is with his head directed toward the sky rather than the reverse, while it really seems that the nuthatch's predilection is to scuttle about in an inverted position. Does he wish to chisel a grub out of the bark of a tree?
"The sweetest sound that ever stirred A warbler's throat." This one was tireless, as are all of his tribe, and led us a weary dance over big, steep-sided rocks, through more and more bogs, over a fence, and out of our open fields into deep woods.
It was pleasant to find here two comparatively rare warblers, of whom I had before had only casual glimpses, the mourning warbler and the bay-breasted. The mourning warbler's song, as I heard it, was like this: Whit whit whit, wit wit. The first three notes were deliberate and loud, on one key, and without accent.
"What kind is it?" "It's nothing but a Warbler's egg," Major Monkey replied. The old gentleman smiled knowingly. And feeling more comfortable, Major Monkey opened his hand and gave Mr. Crow a good look at his prize. "That's too big for a Warbler's egg!" Mr. Crow cried. "I found it in a Warbler's nest," Major Monkey insisted. "Were there any more like this one in the nest?" Mr. Crow asked.
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