WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



Much confusion arose among the eariier natural- 

 ists from this circumstance, though not quite so 

 much as ensued upon the discovery of the cousin 

 of this species — the orchard oriole — which bears 

 the specific name spurius to this day as a memory 

 of the time when ornithologists called it a ''bas- 

 tard." 



The singing of the males is at its height now 

 that the females have come, and they are to be 

 heard, not only from field and grove and country 

 way-side, but in the streets of villages, and even 

 in the parks of cities, where they are recognized 

 by every school-boy, who calls them fire-birds, 

 golden-robins, hang-nests, and Baltimore birds. 

 The parks and avenues of Philadelphia, the elm- 

 embowered precincts of New Haven, the sacred 

 trees of Boston Common, the classic shades of Har- 

 vard Square, and the malls of Central Park all 

 echo to their spring-time music. 



The song of the oriole is indescribable, as to me 

 are the tunes of most of the songsters. NuttalFs 

 ingenious syllables are totally useless for express- 

 ing the pure and versatile fluting which floats 

 from the elm-tops. Wilson catches its spirit when 

 he says that " there is in it a certain wild plaintive- 

 ness and naivete extremely interesting,'' and that 



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