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98

October 20, Monday.

This morning about 10:30 I went over towards the Fair grounds. It was warm and pleasant. As I started two Redbreasted Nuthatches lit on the top of a Norway Spruce in Miss Gattiker's yard and ran about as though looking for something to fight in the regular Nuthatch manner. They chased each other around calling harshly [[underlined]]ratch ratch[[/underlined]]. One flew out and fought an English Sparrow that happened to be passing upon no provocation whatever.

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99

Juncoes were very thick in the thickets. On every side I could here their subdued trills which occasionally broke all restraint and bubbled out in rippling warbles that reminded me of Spring with [[inserted]]its[[/inserted]] myriad tinkling brooklets. Their soft greyish dress blended appropriately with the dark background of shrubs and their songs were mingled with the subdued rattle of dry leaves on the branches in such a manner as to make an agreeable half sound very pleasing to the ear. They were