INTKODUCTORT CHAPTERS. 



THE SPRING SONG. 



What tidings hath the Swallow heard 

 That bids her leave the lands of summer 



For woods and fields where April yields 

 Bleak welcome to the blithe newcomer ? — Bourdillow. 



The trees are leafless, and there are snow patches in nooks 

 and corners ; the air is laden with chilly gusts, but at noon a 

 little softness creeps into it; the days, though gray, hold 

 twelve hours of light, and the vernal equinox is at hand. 



Come to the window, my friend, you who are going to 

 spend some days, weeks, or months upon the bird-quest. 

 You say that you see nothing but the bare trees, not even 

 "the sun making dust and the grass growing green," like 

 sister Anne in the fairy tale. Open your window, or better 

 still, go into the porch, for a procession is soon to pass, and 

 you must hear the music. Listen ! on the branch of the oak 

 where the leaves still cling is the bugler, the Song Sparrow, 

 calling through the silence, " They come ! They come ! They 

 come ! Prepare the way." 



Then presently, instead of tramping feet, you will hear 

 the rustling of the innumerable wings of the bird army. 

 Happy for you if it is a long time in passing and if a large 

 part of it camps for the season. Usually it sends forward a 

 few scouts, and then a company or two, before the brigade, 

 clad in its faultless dress uniform, sweeps on, singing the 

 greatest choral symphony of Nature, — the Spring Song. 



There are many reasons, both of fact and of fancy, why it 

 is best to begin the study of birds in the spring. The 



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