Midsummer Memoranda 



hid, on the ground, or swaying daintily 

 on a tall weed, or is perched an instant 

 on a fence-rail, or even poised above you 

 in mid-air, with restless, palpitating wings. 



There are not so many birds that sing 

 while in flight. But the Bobolink does 

 it to perfection, pouring forth his notes 

 from an altitude of fifteen or twenty feet 

 in such showering brilliance that you can 

 almost feel and see the flash of them as 

 they descend. 



As he sings and flies, and flies and sings, 

 and circles about, quite agog with melodi- 

 ous excitement, you get the impression 

 that he is aflflicted with a foohsh fear that 

 you are unaware of his presence, or even 

 of the matcliless glory of the day. And 

 after a while you half feel like shouting 

 a little and breaking forth into rollicking 

 song yourself; or actually jumping around 

 a bit — with a toss of your hat in the air, 

 and several handsprings and a vault over 

 the fence thrown in — just to relieve his 

 apprehensions and show him you are alive 

 to the situation. 



[141] 



