CHAPTER IX. 



EARLY APRIL AND THE PHCEBE. 



IN no field of thought does the law of the association of 

 ideas work more potently than in the domain of nature. 

 Each season has its voices, its temperatures, and its moods 

 of earth and sky. Along with the burning days of harvest 

 we associate the drowsy hum of the Cicada; with the more 

 temperate days, the fading fields and the cool evenings of 

 late summer — the shrilling of crickets, locusts and grass- 

 hoppers; with the driving snows of winter, clouds of Snow 

 Buntings; with the wooing, sunny days of late March and 

 early April, the homely but significant voice of the Phoebe 

 {Sayoi'nis fuscus), one of our welcome birds of early spring. 

 While 3^et the ground is crisp from the frosts of the previ- 

 ous night, and the lingering snow-drifts about the fence- 

 corners give back the unclouded rays of the morning sun in 

 countless scintillations, as the spirited note of the Robin, 

 the amorous warble of the Bluebird, the plaintive melody 

 of the Meadow Lark, and the ringing notes of the Song Spar- 

 row mingle with the sound of the axe of the woodman on 

 the hill, this newly arrived bird mounts the fence, the corn- 

 bin, or the ridge of the barn, and with frequent jerks of the 

 tail emits, at short intervals, his rather harsh, but by no 

 means unpleasing, pe-wee. This is Phoebe's very best song. 

 For more ordinary purposes, however, a chip or a whit may 

 suffice. After a few weeks, the cheerful note which 



