A NEW ENGLAND MAY-DAY 11 



Beyond the meadow a heavy belt of 

 maples marks the course of the river; 

 the gray, misty hue of winter has gone 

 from their tops and they are flushed 

 with red; the willows are yellow, and 

 here and there show signs of leaf, but 

 the white birches loom grim and chill- 

 ing, with their tassels only expanded, 

 and the anatomy of tree, bush, and 

 brier is as clearly defined as in Janu- 

 ary. Bluebirds are very rare this 

 spring; some chipmunks invaded their 

 house last year, an intrusion which 

 they sorely resented; but a number of 

 warblers are flitting about, and feeding 

 on young twigs or bark insects. The 

 warblers, though insignificant singers, 

 have the most varied and beautiful 

 plumage; for a week, a flock of 

 the black-throated green species has 

 haunted a group of hemlocks, lighting 

 the dark branches with glints of their 



