30 WAKE-ROBIN 



After I had completed his downfall and quiet had 

 been partially restored, a half-fledged member of 

 the bereaved household came out from his hiding- 

 place, and, jumping upon a decayed branch, chirped 

 vigorously, no doubt in celebration of the victory. 



Till the middle of July there is a general equi- 

 librium; the tide stands poised; the holiday spirit 

 is unabated. But as the harvest ripens beneath the 

 long, hot days, the melody gradually ceases. The 

 young are out of the nest and must be cared for, 

 and the moulting season is at hand. After the 

 cricket has commenced to drone his monotonous 

 refrain beneath your window, you will not, till 

 another season, hear the wood thrush in all his 

 matchless eloquence. The bobolink has become 

 careworn and fretful, and blurts out snatches of his 

 song between his scolding and upbraiding, as you 

 approach the vicinity of his nest, oscillating between 

 anxiety for his brood and solicitude for his musical 

 reputation. Some of the sparrows still sing, and 

 occasionally across the hot fields, from a tall tree 

 in the edge of the forest, comes the rich note of 

 the scarlet tanager. This tropical- colored bird loves 

 the hottest weather, and I hear him even in dog- 

 days. 



The remainder of the summer is the carnival of 

 the swallows and flycatchers. Flies and insects, 

 to any amount, are to be had for the catching; and 

 the opportunity is well improved. See that sombre, 

 ashen-colored pewee on yonder branch. A true 

 sportsman he, who never takes his game at rest, 



