The Hermit Thrush may be described in superlatives. Of the four commoner
thrushes, it comes earliest (in March or early April) on its way to its
haunts in northern woods, remains longest (till October or November),
and is considered by many to be the finest singer of a highly gifted
family.
It is so very shy that it is rarely seen and yet, during migration time,
I once discovered a solitary hermit in a tree on a vacant lot only a few
blocks from the business center of Cleveland. Because we sit quietly for
hours at a time in the Maine woods, we have been vouchsafed many
glimpses of its olive-brown back, _its reddish-brown tail_ (the mark of
identification), and its rather thickly spotted white and brown breast.
We have noticed its habit of raising its tail as it alighted; we have
heard its call-note _chuck_.
Moore's Rock, Castine, Maine, commands an enchanting view of Penobscot
Bay, of distant hills, and of spruce woods that are tenanted by veeries,
olive-backed, and hermit thrushes. There we make frequent pilgrimages,
to hear them sing at sunset.
Beneath glowing skies and in the silence, the hermit raises his
exquisitely modulated voice in a strain of ethereal beauty; pauses, then
in a higher key, repeats it; a third time, with still loftier elevation
of tone, he sings,--and sings again.
More than once at twilight, a white fog has moved in from the bay and
enveloped us as we listened. The voices of these thrushes, proceeding
from the sea of mist, have seemed more like those of spirits from
another world than of birds--unspeakably uplifting and full of
significance.