long before that bird has even thought of journeying northward ; knowing 

 what they have heard, I only smile and look interested. If you have not heard 

 the March phoebe note of the chickadee you have missed something well 

 worth while. 



The other bird that helps to bring the spring, blazes a trail as it were for 

 the bluebird and robins, is that bird of mystery, the prairie horned lark, which 

 appears in Wisconsin in mid-February or March. Its whistle — one cannot 

 call it a song — while not very musical is decidedly cheery. Usually these birds 

 are found in pairs, though once in a while I find them in flocks of half a dozen. 

 There is no mistaking the bird ; the two little tufts of feathers, or horns, upon 

 either side of the head are sufficient to identify it. To a great many people 

 they are just "sparrows," a.s every brown or indeterminate bird is. Never- 

 theless our inconspicuous early visitor and summer resident is a true lark, 

 something which can not be said of our well-beloved "spring of the year" bird, 

 for the meadowlark iielongs to the blackbird family and is not a lark at all. 



Those are the two birds I think of in connection with the first thaw, 

 perhaps there is some connection between them and the long-roll of the sap- 

 sucker. Honestly, I believe that I owe the thaw itself to the drumming of that 

 "wicked woodpecker," my "bird of faith." 



As I sit here in my pleasant study I can hear the puffing of busy switch- 

 engines down in the yards, the throb of the machinery on the coal-docks, the 

 rat-a-tat-tat" of manv busy hainmers; yet over all, under all and through 

 all, I can hear the sound of the woodpecker's long-roll, beating a knell to dying 

 winter. Now I would hear the gladsome sound if I were incarcerated in a cell 

 of solid masonry. \\'hat I hear depends largely upon what I am prepared to 

 hear. If I let the sounds of the busy world shut out the higher music, whose 

 fault is it? 



Come, are you not conscious of a desire to wander, to get away from the 

 noise and hurly-burly of the town? Have you not heard the long-roll of the 

 sapsucker? Do not wait for spring or summer to journey afield. Now, while 

 the creeks are beginning to rejoice in regained freedom, and the chickadee to 

 call "phoebe-e-e," take a day off. You need it. 



And it was only the long-roll of a sapsucker. 



531 



