By day I used to listen to them, hours long at a stretch, practicing
to perfect their song. These were the younger birds, of course; and
for a long time they puzzled me. Those who know Killooleet's song will
remember that it begins with three clear sweet notes; but very few
have observed the break between the second and third of these. I
noticed, first of all, that certain birds would start the song twenty
times in succession, yet never get beyond the second note. And when I
crept up, to find out about it, I would find them sitting
disconsolately, deep in shadow, instead of out in the light where they
love to sing, with a pitiful little droop of wings and tail, and the
air of failure and dejection in every movement. Then again these same
singers would touch the third note, and always in such cases they
would prolong the last trill, the _lillooleet-lillooleet_ (the
_Peabody-Peabody_, as some think of it), to an indefinite length,
instead of stopping at the second or third repetition, which is the
rule with good singers. Then they would come out of the shadow, and
stir about briskly, and sing again with an air of triumph.

One day, while lying still in the underbrush watching a wood mouse,
Killooleet, a fine male bird and a perfect singer, came and sang on a
branch just over my head, not noticing me. Then I discovered that
there is a trill, a tiny grace note or yodel, at the end of his second
note. I listened carefully to other singers, as close as I could get,
and found that it is always there, and is the one difficult part of
the song. You must be very close to the bird to appreciate the beauty
of this little yodel; for ten feet away it sounds like a faint cluck
interrupting the flow of the third note; and a little farther away you
cannot hear it at all.

[Illustration: Killooleet]