WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



much feared last year, once more falls upon the 

 bushes, and the blue air is pricked by its piercing 

 scream — miles above high C. 



What hosts of birds June saw in this thicket 

 while the yellow-throats were busily clearing out 

 a little pit in the dry turf, weaving within it a strong 

 basket of grass and weed-stems, and then furnish- 

 ing it, bit by bit, with silken shreds. It is a visit- 

 ing-place for rare warblers. In the greenish gray 

 of the fresh -leaved bushes flit greenish-gray Hel- 

 niinthophaga fly-catchers, as noiseless and almost 

 as invisible as ghosts. Restless ground-warblers 

 explore the recesses of the old tussocks, watchful 

 against snakes ; and the loud scratching of a towhee 

 startles for a moment an oven-bird, who, stepping 

 daintily in silken stockings, is wondering whether 

 our yellow-throat would be neighborly if she should 

 make her domed summer - house near by. Over 

 the maple-tops a tanager swings through the air 

 like a volant ruby ; while, sapphire-like, the indigo- 

 bird poises at the apex of my hemlock, lilting a 

 song that sparkles in the sunshine. 



Beautifully and merrily the yellow-throat's nest 

 is completed, and day by day through a hopeful 

 week the tiny, red-spotted eggs are laid, and the 

 young wife takes up her vigil of love upon them, 



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