THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS 13 



" While I am lying on the grass, 

 Thy loud note smites my ear I 

 From hill to hill it seems to pass, 

 At once far off and near ! 



" Thrice welcome, darling of the spring I 

 Even yet thou art to me 

 No bird, but an invisible thing, 

 A voice, a mystery." 



The black-billed is the only species found in my 

 locality, the yellow-billed abounds farther south. 

 Their note or call is nearly the same. The former 

 sometimes suggests the voice of a turkey. The call 

 of the latter may be suggested thus: k-k-k-k-k-koiv^ 

 kow^ kow-ow, kow-ow. 



The yellow-billed will take up his stand in a 

 tree, and explore its branches till he has caught 

 every worm. He sits on a twig, and with a pecul- 

 iar swaying movement of his head examines the 

 surrounding foliage. When he discovers his prey, 

 he leaps upon it in a fluttering manner. 



In June the black-billed makes a tour through 

 the orchard and garden, regaling himself upon the 

 canker-worms. At this time he is one of the 

 tamest of birds, and will allow you to approach 

 within a few yards of him. I have even come 

 within a few feet of one without seeming to excite 

 his fear or suspicion. He is quite unsophisticated, 

 or else royally indifi'erent. 



The plumage of the cuckoo is a rich glossy 

 brown, and is unrivaled in beauty by any other 

 neutral tint with which I am acquainted. It is 

 also remarkable for its firmness and fineness. 



