312 GRAY LADY AND THE BIRDS 
It was now the last week in February. Every one was 
on the lookout for the first spring migrants, and the chil- 
dren were beginning to bring news of birds that they 
had seen imperfectly and yet were sure were new arrivals 
from the South. It was impossible that most of these 
birds should have been in the vicinity, but the pictures 
on the charts, mixed with equal portions of imagination 
and hope, caused the children to think they saw the bird 
that they wished to be the first to report, rather than the 
one that was actually there. 
Aside from the birds that are represented by a few 
individuals all the year the only newcomers to hope for 
are a few adventurous Blackbirds, the Purple Grackle, 
and the Redwing, and they are not usually seen in any 
numbers before the beginning of March. There are three 
birds, however, that, unless the month is very stormy, may 
be expected at any time to show their fresh plumage and 
bring the latest news of travel to their stay-at-home 
brothers who have remained behind. These are the Blue- 
bird, the Song Sparrow, and the Robin. 
“We all know those. Even little brother Ebby knows 
those birds,’’ said Clary, when Gray Lady proposed to 
spend the morning in the company of the most homelike 
and familiar birds of New England. “That is, Ebby 
knows the Bluebird and Robin, and the Song Sparrow if 
it is singing; but I do think Sparrows are dreadful hard to 
tell by sight. If a Song Sparrow doesn’t sing, and turns 
his back so’s I can’t see the big spot and the little one on 
his breast, I don’t always know him myself.” 
“T hope that we all know these three birds,” said Gray 
Lady, “but, like old friends, we are even more glad to see 
