THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS 15 



vesper- bird, — the poet of the plain, unadorned 

 pastures. Go to those broad, smooth, uplying 

 fiehls Avhere the cattle and sheep are grazing, and 

 sit down in the twilight on one of those warm, 

 clean stones, and listen to this song. On every 

 side, near and remote, from out the short grass 

 which the herds are cropping, the strain rises. 

 Two or three long, silver notes of peace and rest, 

 ending in some subdued trills and quavers, consti- 

 tute each separate song. Often you will catch only 

 one or two of the bars, the breeze having blown the 

 minor part away. Such unambitious, quiet, un- 

 conscious melody ! It is one of the most character- 

 istic sounds in nature. The grass, the stones, the 

 stubble, the furrow, the quiet herds, and the warm 

 twilight among the hills, are all subtly expressed in 

 this song; this is what they are at last capable of. 



The female builds a plain nest in the open field, 

 without so much as a bush or thistle or tuft of 

 grass to protect it or mark its site; you may step 

 upon it, or the cattle may tread it into the ground. 

 But the danger from this source, I presume, the 

 bird considers less than that from another. Skunks 

 and foxes have a very impertinent curiosity, as 

 Finchie well knows; and a bank or hedge, or a 

 rank growth of grass or thistles, that might prom- 

 ise protection and cover to mouse or bird, these 

 cunning rogues would be apt to explore most thor- 

 oughly. The partridge is undoubtedly acquainted 

 with the same process of reasoning; for, like the 

 vesper-bird, she, too, nests in open, unprotected 



