This is Bird Note.

Perhaps as much as any man, Henry David Thoreau enjoyed his walks in the woods.

In June 1853, Thoreau wrote in his journal of an enchanting encounter with the wood thrush.

The wood thrush launches forth his evening strains from the midst of the pines.

I admire the moderation of this master.

There is nothing tumultuous in his song.

He launches forth one strain with all his heart and life and soul,

of pure and unmatchable melody, and then he pauses and gives the hearer and himself time to

digest this, and then another, and another. About a week later, Thoreau wrote again of the wood thrush.

This is the only bird whose note affects me like music.

It lifts and exhilarates me.

It is inspiring.

It changes all hours to an eternal morning.

Wood thrushes thrive in large expanses of forest, and their numbers have declined as forests have been cut on their breeding grounds and where they winter in southern Mexico and Central America.

Yet nearly half of wood thrush pairs have two broods per nesting season, so given a chance, their numbers could rebound.

Protected areas like Adirondack Park,

Great Smoky Mountains National Park,

and Ozark National Forest,

give them that chance.

For Bird Note, I'm Michael Stein.