JULY 



ULY and August are the noontide 

 of the year's day, a long '' still 

 hour " when the activities of bird- 

 life are in a lull — that full-tide 

 quietness that intervenes before the current 

 ebbs. Their family cares are mostly over by 

 the middle of July, their Httle ones are already 

 more than on their own feet, they are on their 

 own wings, and with that quick maturing that 

 characterizes the lower orders of life, a few 

 short weeks have brought their instincts well- 

 nigh to the full development. 



With other fortunate people the birds, after 

 their short but arduous domestic felicities, are 

 having a sort of vacation, albeit a rather quiet 

 one, not full of song and merry-making as 

 when on their May travels and in delightsome 

 June, the queen of all the months; as if a 

 touch of seriousness had come over their spirits, 

 with the sense that even already, although the 

 sun's rays are as forceful for heat as ever, they 



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