14 THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. 



Not long after the bluebird comes the robin, some- 

 (imes in March, but in most of the Northern States 

 April is the month of the robin. In large numbers 

 they scour the fields and groves. You hear their 

 oiping in the meadow, in the pasture, on the hill-side. 

 Walk in the woods, and the dry leaves rustle with 

 the whir of their wings, the air is vocal with their 

 cheery call. In excess of joy and vivacity, they run 

 leap, scream, chase each other through the air, diving 

 and sweeping among the trees with perilous rapidity. 



In that free, fascinating, half-work and half-play 

 pursuit, — sugar-making, — a pursuit which still lin- 

 gers in many parts of New York, as in New England, 

 tfie robin is one's constant companion. When the 

 day is sunny and the ground bare, you meet him at 

 all points and hear him at all hours. At sunset, on 

 the tops of th^ tall maples, with look heavenward, 

 and in a spirit of ir^ter abandonment, he carols his 

 simple strain. Anw sitting thus amid the stark, si- 

 lent trees, above the wet, cold earth, with the chill of 

 winter still in the air, there is no fitter or sweetei 

 eongster in the whole round year. It is in keeping 

 with the scene and the occasion. How round and 

 genuine the notes are, and how eagerly our ears 

 drink them in ! The first utterance, and the spell of 

 winter is thoroughly broken, and the remembrance 

 of it afar off. 



Robin is one of the most native and democratic of 

 our birds ; he is one of the family, and seems much 

 nearer to us than those rare, exotic visitants, as the 



