The Birds of the Garden: 201 



for many a thousand more." When I awoke from this eventful 

 dream I could but exclaim, what indeed would summer be 

 without birds ! How much we are indebted to them for the 

 brightness, freshness and gladness of summer. 



"We ought to be on more familiar and friendly terms with our 

 neighbors, the birds; to know more of their habits and language, 

 for their language is as easily learned as that of the little child ; 

 for every want is expressed by song, cry or chirp, which, to them, 

 is language. 



We do not, as yet, understand by what reason or instinct the 

 bird is guided in its pilgrimage north and south, and perhaps 

 never will, but we are positively assured that birds frequent the 

 same spot year after year. Perhaps the range of mountains, 

 course of rivers, the lay of towns and cities, marks their course. 

 Who shall tell ? We only know that they leave us at night, and 

 when the warm south wind blows, come to us again at night in 

 the spring. They take no reporters with them, therefore their 

 secrets are their own. 



One of the earliest, sweetest, and most familiar birds of the 

 garden is the Bluebird, that, Thoreau says, " carries the sky on 

 its back." The first breath of spring brings him among us. His 

 song is a sweet melodious warble, all harmony, for his notes are 

 so pure that he is incapable of making a discord. He sits under 

 the window, on the fence, stone or bush, and sings away in per- 

 fect content, even though the cold be severe and the sky dark, 

 and his song is, "I love you, I love you." This song is continuous 

 through the summer, and wherever we go, in town or country, 

 this bit of blue cloud, with crimson lining, cheers us with a merry 

 song. The Bluebird is attached to his home, for he comes year 

 after year to the same hollow box, or fence post to rear his young. 



The Robin's song has not a great variety of notes, therefore 

 naturalists do not regard him as a first-class minstrel. He ranks 

 about as third rate ; but for a song that wears like the old home 

 melodies, give us first and last the Robin's song, with its sweet, 

 simple melody, that always cheers and refreshes, but never tires. 

 No bird sings at dawn like the Robin. The Robin is truly the 

 favorite bird of our land. He has ever been regarded as the bird 



