774 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



found in the Delaware Valley during the winter, though several, if 

 not all, of the species that come on the March waves are occasionally 

 met with in the winter months. It appears, further, that the winter 

 quarters of certain birds which are summer residents with us and some 

 that are transient, passing on to more northern breeding grounds, lie 

 not so very far to the south. If the last of March has been marked 

 by warm weather lapping over into the first days of April, then one 

 may expect soon to hear the familiar notes of the chipping sparrow 

 from the swelling branches of garden shrubbery and the trees about 

 the lawn, and a brown thrasher is sure to be heard volubly proclaim- 

 ing his arrival from some near-by tree top. Among the budding 

 sprigs of thickets the elusive chewink breaks into occasional frag- 

 ments of song, and from the red-blossomed maples and the jungle of 

 pussy willows and alders that fringe the meadow brook the metallic 

 creaking notes of the red-winged blackbirds sound not unpleasingly. 

 This jargon of the red-wing has a true vernal ring about it, suggesting 

 the fresh green of oozy bogs and the loosening up of sap. 



From the middle to the last of April there are several big waves 

 of migration that bring many of the summer residents as well as some 

 transient species, forerunning the greater waves that are to follow in 

 May. On certain warm April days the barn and the bank swallows 

 appear, and the chimney swifts are seen scurrying to and fro above 

 the trees and house tops. These are genuine signs of the coming 

 summer, for swallows and swifts feed only on the minute gnats and 

 other ephemera that develop under conditions of warm temperature. 

 Whoever knows of a martin box that year after year is visited by its 

 colony has an unfailing source of delight at this time in watching the 

 lovely birds. The martins are very prompt in their arrival, rarely 

 coming before the 1st of April nor later than the 10th. We are 

 aware for the first time that the house wren has come back by the 

 voluble song that greets us some morning from the branches just 

 beyond our window — a song that only the lover of his own rooftree 

 can fully appreciate, for the wren's chant, more than any other bird 

 song, seems to voice the home instinct in a man. By the last week 

 of April the woods are fast closing up their vistas in a rich profusion 

 of unfolding leafage. The umbrellalike leaves of the May apple are 

 scattered everywhere through the woods and fields, forming conspicu- 

 ous patches of green. During this last week of the month a few 

 straggling thrushes make their appearance — the hermit thrush with 

 its russet tail, the veery, and the wood thrush. The first two are tran- 

 sients, flitting through the underwoods or rustling among fallen leaves 

 in search of their insect food. To hear the incomparable matins and 

 vespers of the hermit one must follow to the bird's breeding range on 

 the wooded slopes of the Appalachians or farther into the deep re- 



