Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

sounds. Their song is as yet week and rather uncertain. An odd bird cry puzzled me for a while which I identified as coming from a chewink. As near as I can write it, it was “Spleep-Durr – Spleep-Durr.” [CEB later wrote in the margin “Wrong! It was a scarlet tanager. (1951)”](HT)As I was crossing the bridge at the Dutchmans, whither I had gone for more flowers, a rose-breasted grosbeak, which had been sitting on a fence, flew up to a tree close by. His was beautiful flight – a whirling mass of black and white and wine-color. It was seeing him in flight that led me to discover that his wings were colored deep red on the underside.(HT)I took delight in trying to analyze the song of the yellowbird. It is a rapid, rollicking up and down rhythm and may be expressed in the following manner: “Weechiteasy – weechiteasy – weep!”(HT)Some crows to the east made the air riotous with their loud cawing. Their call has