222 FROM MY WINDOW. 



and bird life in an hour from my window than 

 durinfj the whole morning's stroll. 



One of my windows, last summer, looked out 

 upon an ideal bird corner : a bit of grass, uncut 

 till very late, with a group of trees and shrubs 

 at the lower boundary, and an old board fence, 

 half buried in luxuriant wild raspberry bushes, 

 running along one side. It was a neglected 

 spot, the side yard of a farmhouse ; and I was 

 careful not to enter it myself so often as to sug- 

 gest to the birds that they were likely to see peo- 

 ple. It had the further advantage of being so 

 near the woods surrounding the house, that the 

 shy forest birds were attracted to it. 



No sooner would I seat myself, pen in hand, 

 than chirps and twitters would come from the 

 trees, a bird alight on the fence, or a red squir- 

 rel come out to sun himself. Of course the pen 

 gave way to the opera-glass in a moment, and 

 often not a line of the note -book got itself writ- 

 ten till birds and squirrels had gone to bed with 

 the sun. 



The group of trees which bounded my view at 

 the end of this outdoor study I called the "lo- 

 cust group." It consisted of a locust or two, 

 surrounded by a small but close growth of lesser 

 trees and shrubs that made a heavy mass of fo- 

 liage. There were a few young ashes, two or 

 three half -grown maples, a shadberry bush, and 



