Lippincott's Magazine, August, 1885

  "Birds in the Bush." By Bradford Torrey. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

  We like the name of Mr. Torrey's book, which seems to carry with it apractical reversal of the proverb that a bird in the hand is worth twoin the bush. For although in many ways it is a good and pleasant sign tonote the increase of amateur naturalists among us, we yet feel a dreadof an incursion of those lovers of classified collections, "each withits Latin label on," who believe that in gaining stuffed specimens theymay best arrive at the charm and the mystery of that exquisitephenomenon which we call bird-life. Mr. Torrey has no puerile ambitionsfor birds in the hand, and a bird in the bush makes to his perceptionholy ground, where he takes the shoes from off his feet and watches andwaits, feeling a delightful surprise in each piquant caprice of thelittle songster. He tells the story of his experiences and impressionssimply and pleasantly, often utters a good thing without too muchemphasis, and yet more often says true things, which is more difficultstill. He is nowhere bookish, although he has read and can quote well ifneed be. He reminds one occasionally of Emerson, oftener of Thoreau,while his method is that of John Burroughs. His most careful studies areperhaps of the birds on Boston Common and about Boston, but he writespleasantly and suggestively of those in the White Mountains. One likesto be reminded that there are still bobolinks in the world, for theyhave deserted many spots which they once favored. There used to bemeadows full of rocks, in each crevice of which nodded a scarletcolumbine, surrounded by grassy borders where wild strawberries grewthickly, with hedge-rows running riot with blackberry, sumach, andalder,--all reckless of utility and given over to lovely waste,--thatwere vocal on June mornings with bobolinks, but where in these times onemight wait the whole day through and not hear a single note of the oldrefrain. Our author finds them plentiful, however, at North Conway,where, as he describes it, their "song dropped from above" while he satperched on a fence-rail looking at the snow-crowned Mount Washingtonrange.