THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. li? 



•—generally in the early part of the day, he seems 

 iterally to vomit up his notes. Apparently with 

 much labor and effort, they gurgle and blubber up 

 Dut of him, falling on the ear with a peculiar subtile 

 ring, as of turning water from a glass bottle, and not 

 without a certain pleasing cadence. 



Neither is the common woodpecker entirely insen- 

 sible to the wooing of the spring, and, like the par- 

 tridge, testifies his appreciation of melody after quite 

 a primitive fashion. Passing through the woods, on 

 some clear, still morning in March, while the metallic 

 ring and tension of winter are still in the earth and 

 air, the silence is suddenly broken by long, resonant 

 hammering upon a dry limb or stub. It is Downy 

 beating a reveille to spring. In the utter stillness 

 and amid the rigid forms we listen with pleasure; and 

 as it comes to my ear oftener at this season than at 

 any other, I freely exonerate the author of it from 

 the imputation of any gastronomic motives, and credit 

 him with a genuine musical performance. 



It is to be expected, therefore, that " Yellow-ham- 

 mer " will respond to the general tendency, and con- 

 tribute his part to the spring chorus. His April call 

 is his finest touch, his most musical expression. 



I recall an ancient maple standing sentry to a large 

 Bugar-bush, that, year after year, afforded protection 

 So a brood of yellow-hammers in its decayed heart. 

 A. week or two before the nesting seemed actually to 

 have begun, three or four of these birds might be 

 leen, on almost any bright morning, gamboling and 



