Waiting for Warblers. 57 



this fact until to-morrow comes. Yesterday there 

 were no warblers, and now the thickets arc full of 

 them. To use the popular word of the bird-men, 

 the first **wave" has arrived, though the appear- 

 ance of a thousand warblers that pass by with little 

 fuss, though many feathers, is in no respect wave- 

 like. What has been said about it is nothing to 

 the purpose ; it is enough to know that the warblers 

 are on the way, and that for two weeks or more we 

 shall be waiting. 



If it were only a matter of waiting to see a wee 

 bird go by, there would be no necessity for calling 

 attention to the fact ; but the aggravations of April 

 are soon forgotten, and May-day — our only date that 

 is magical and not commonplace — comes at last ; and 

 then what of the warblers? As the sands of the 

 sea-shore, as the leaves of the forest, in number, and 

 active as the motes in a sunbeam, they are the mas- 

 ters of the situation while they tarry. They are the 

 fitting associates of the dainty spring blossoms, and 

 some are as gayly colored. I have seen them flash- 

 ing like fire as they clung to the snowy trunks of 

 white birches ; others, blue as bits of the sky above 

 them, rested for an instant among blossoms blue as 

 themselves, and then were lost to sight until they 

 rose from their fragrant bed and chirped to the 

 flowers and to me a cheery " good-by." I have 

 seen them bathing in the glistening waters held 

 aloft in the hollows of great lotus-leaves, and at 

 times have grown almost weary watching them as 

 they clung like leaves to the outer twigs of the old 



