154 Bird - Lore
twitter, remarkably pleasing, and suggestive of winter days. and not in» frequently a White-throat will join the chorus with his silvery tremolo, given in a tenderness not suggested by the clear, brave whistle of summer. His common note, though, is a sharp Met-Pp, not- unlike the call of the Brown Creeper.
The month is mainly one of concert music. In the swamps the Rusty Blackbirds carry on a pleasant bubbling undercurrent of quaint melody, which always brings to my mind a squeaky wheelbarrow pushed along by the edge of a noisy brook. With them are lingering Redwings, who rarely utter their rich songs; it is remarkable how many pleasant memories this simple phrase will recall. Goldfinches in' large parties ripple among the asters. They have a perpetual overflow of sweet notes, which, heard from half a hundred. is wonderfully effective. The Purple Finch alights on a savin top to drop several rich, sweet measures, and then is off again till his flinty tip is lost in the distance
If the year is one when the country is invaded by northern birds, the plaintive whistles of Pine Grosbeaks, and the Hull) notes of Crossbills will be constantly falling from overhead, or mingling with the calls of Chicka- dees and Kinglets among the spruces, where the birds are busy with the evergreen seeds. The fresh ‘phoebe’ call of the Chickadee is a heart- warming bit of song, which I think may be heard every month in the year.
A not infrequent and thoroughly enjoyable surprise is to hear the song of the Ruby-crowned Kinglet during the month. It is not nearly so perfect as in spring; indeed the little fellow seems never to reach the beautiful climax of his song. He starts with all his vigorous preliminary chattering. gets to perfection his purring ripples, but, sadly, seems incapable of giving the final bert-ber-wez notes. I have heard but one Kinglet who omitted this valuable addition in the spring. Certainly his musical educa- tion had been shamefully neglected.
But the most wonderful singer of the month is the Fox Sparrow. Or- dinarily, he may be said to be silent in fall, except for his call-notes, but when there is a large migration'of the handsome birds we may often enjoy the thrill of their clear, mellow, sadly sweet songs from the midst of some bare thicket.
