The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 2, No. 14, December 1858: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
Philosophy
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 2, No. 14, December 1858: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
The most remarkable thing connected with the history of this bird is his
oven-shaped nest. It is commonly placed on the ground, under a knoll of
moss or a tuft of grass and bushes, and is formed almost entirely of
long grass neatly woven. It is covered with a roof of the same
materials, and a round opening is made at the side, for the bird's
entrance. The nest is so ingeniously covered with grass and disguised
with the appearance of the general surface around it, that it is very
seldom discovered. The Cow-Bunting, however, is able to find it, and
often selects it as a depository for its own eggs.
Those who are addicted to rambling in pursuit of natural curiosities may
have observed that pine-woods are remarkable for certain collections of
mosses which have cushioned a projecting rock or the decayed stump of a
tree. When weary with heat and exercise, it is delightful to sit down
upon one of these green velveted couches and take note of the objects
immediately around us. We are then prepared to hear the least sound that
invades our retreat. Some of the sweetest notes ever uttered in the wood
are distinctly heard only at such times; for when we are passing over
the rustling leaves, the noise made by our progress interferes with the
perfect recognition of all delicate sounds. It was when thus reclining,
after half a day's search for flowers, under the grateful shade of a
pine-tree, now watching the white clouds that sent a brighter day-beam
into these dark recesses, as they passed luminously overhead, and then
noting the peculiar mapping of the grounds underneath the wood,
diversified with mosses in swelling knolls, little islets of fern, and
parterres of ginsengs and Solomon's-seals,--in one of these cloisters of
the forest, I was first greeted by the pensive note of the Green
Warbler, as he seemed to titter in supplicatory tones, very slowly
modulated, "Hear me, Saint Theresa!" This strain, as I have observed
many times since, is, at certain hours, repeated constantly for ten
minutes at a time, and it is one of those melodious sounds that seem to
belong exclusively to solitude.
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