92 The Wilson Bulletin — No. 108 



rich and clear like the notes of a flute. He was a faithful 

 songster and though I did not once see him until I was out- 

 of-doors again, he did not fail to greet me a single day. 

 There is something so cheerful, so hopeful, so full of prom- 

 ise, in the passionate song of the cardinal that man must 

 wax optimistic when he hears it. 



Like the flute-toned song of the cardinal is the warb- 

 ling whistle of the meadowlark, in its thrilling message 

 of joy and encouragement. Two pairs nested in the tus- 

 socky grass of nearby vacant lots. Perched upon the tele- 

 phone poles or the black cherry treelets they responded in 

 antiphonal chorus to the challenging morning call of the rob- 

 ins or the ringing song of the cardinal. Perhaps I was 

 prejudiced in favor of the meadowlarks because I could 

 see them and delight so much in their bright golden waist- 

 coats and jaunty demeanor, but I believe that to a sick 

 man they seem the sweetest songsters of all. 



The robins came, not only to entertain me with their 

 cheer-up songs, but to let me supervise their wooing, their 

 house-building materials, and their domestic felicities and 

 infelicities. On the yard and in the garden beneath my win- 

 dow many things happened too intimate to publish. They 

 courted and wooed assiduously; they searched about for 

 nesting-materials; they quarreled and scolded, or hopped 

 about in contented groups like staid householders. Even 

 while visiting me, they were too thrifty to let a June-bug or 

 cutworm escape, even if it might not be the best of manners 

 to catch it in company. 



One early morning I was surprised to see an oven-bird 

 sneaking stealthilj^ along under the witch-hazel as if he 

 feared to intrude upon my privacy. He came to see me 

 several days in succession, but not once did he burst forth 

 into that catacljsmic torrent of song that so often surges 

 through the woods he frequents. For five j^ears I had not 

 seen or heard the oven-bird, and I rejoiced that he came 

 to greet me. 



No matter how early I woke, often when the gray light 



