A BIRDS’ GALA-DAY. 14! 
XIII. 
AABIR DS’ -<GALA-DAY- 
N Mr. Emerson’s poem entitled ‘“‘ May Morning ’”’ 
this stanza occurs : — 
“ When the purple flame shoots up, 
And Love ascends the throne, 
I cannot hear your songs, O birds, 
For the witchery of my own.” 
It would seem, therefore, that to be a poet does 
not always give one the coign of vantage in observ- 
ing Nature, but may, on the contrary, prove a 
positive disadvantage. Should the rambler go about 
“crooning rhymes” and making an _ over-sweet 
melody to himself, instead of keeping his ear alert 
to the music around him, he would be likely to miss 
many a wild, sweet song fully as enchanting as his 
own measured lines. No music of my own, how- 
ever, diverted my mind from Nature’s blithe min- 
strels as, on the twenty-ninth of April, 1892, I 
pursued my avian studies in some of my favorite 
resorts. 
It was nine o’clock when I reached the quiet 
woodland lying beyond a couple of fields. The 
first fact noted was the return of a number of 
interesting migrants which had not been present 
