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Updated: May 13, 2025
On the stone wall, or perched on a telegraph pole, close to the solitary insulator on the summit, the singer poured out his sweet little song, ending in his best moods in an exquisite trill that resembled the silver bell of the chewink. The family spent their time in the road or the meadow, the mother working hard to supply the hungry little mouths, which gave vent to queer whining cries.
In going from a district of the Old Red Sandstone to where I walk upon the old Plutonic Rock, not fifty miles distant, I miss in the woods, the veery, the hermit thrush, the chestnut-sided warbler, the blue-backed warbler, the green-backed warbler, the black and yellow warbler, and many others, and find in their stead the wood thrush, the chewink, the redstart, the yellow-throat, the yellow-breasted flycatcher, the white-eyed flycatcher, the quail, and the turtle dove.
"I need some of your beautiful white fur to show my little ones," he said. "I'll take three." The other birds expressed their admiration, and then begged a few hairs, too. There was Mrs. Crested Flycatcher, and Mrs. Phœbe Bird, and little Towhee the Chewink.
"Oh, worms and bugs that hide under the leaves," replied Chewink carelessly. "You have no idea how many of them hide under dead leaves." "Do you eat anything else?" asked Peter. "Berries and wild fruits in season," replied Chewink. "I'm very fond of them. They make a variety in the bill of fare." "I've noticed that I seldom see you up in the tree tops," remarked Peter.
Come out and talk with me and let me tell you how grateful to you I am for saving my life." Chewink flew down to the ground and Peter crept out of the bramble-tangle. "It wasn't anything," declared Peter. "I saw Reddy and I knew you didn't, so of course I gave the alarm. You would have done the same thing for me. Do you know, Chewink, I've wondered a great deal about you."
On the same hillside is always to be found the chewink, a creature whose dress and song are so unlike those of the rest of his tribe that the irreverent amateur is tempted to believe that, for once, the men of science have made a mistake. What has any finch to do with a call like cherawink, or with such a three-colored harlequin suit?
The Wilson thrush and the red-bellied nuthatch I have seen once or twice each. The chewink is more constant in his visits, as is also the golden-winged woodpecker. Our familiar little downy woodpecker, on the other hand, has thus far kept out of my catalogue.
The mavis, or red thrush, sneaks and skulks like a culprit, hiding in the densest alders; the catbird is a coquette and a flirt, as well as a sort of female Paul Pry; and the chewink shows his inhospitality by espying your movements like a Japanese. The wood thrush has none of theses underbred traits.
"Pausing and peering, with sidling head, As saucily questioning all I said; While the ox-eye danced on its slender stem, And all glad Nature rejoiced with them." The chewink is a curious exchange for the robin. I did miss his voice in the morning chorus, the one who lived in the grove was not much of a singer, but I was glad to know the chewink, who was almost a stranger.
It was Indigo the Bunting. "We were talking about our family," replied Chewink. "I was telling Peter that we belong to the largest family among the birds." "But you didn't say anything about Indigo," interrupted Peter. "Do you mean to say that he belongs to the same family?" "I surely do," replied Indigo. "I'm rather closely related to the Sparrow branch. Don't I look like a Sparrow?"
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