BROWSINGS [N OTHER FIELDS. 229 
tones as I entered their secluded haunts, but I had 
not the good fortune to find a nest. Indeed, it 
was too late to discover any nests at all, except such 
as had been deserted. But, to my great delight, I 
found that the jolly juncos breed on the mountain, 
for there they were carrying food to their little ones, 
which had left the nursery and were ensconced in 
the thick foliage. These birds are winter residents 
in my own neighborhood, but in the spring they hie 
to this and other locatities of the same and higher 
latitudes to spend the summer. It was refreshing 
to meet my little winter intimates. They were quite 
lyrical, but their little trills did not seem any more 
tuneful here in their breeding-haunts than in their 
winter residences, especially when Spring pours her 
subtle essence into their veins. 
Nothing surprised me more than to find song- 
sparrows on the top of the mountain, whereas they 
are usually the tenants of the swamps and other low- 
lands in my neighborhood. Here they were rearing 
families on the mountain’s crest as well as along the 
streams that laved the mountain’s base. ‘They also 
sang their tinkling roundels in both places, some- 
times ringing them out so loudly that they could be 
distinctly heard above the clatter of the street cars. 
At one place, in a cluster of half-dead trees and 
saplings, a colony of warblers were tilting about ; 
all of them only migrants about my home in Ohio, 
but breeding here. There were old and young 
creeping warblers, the elders singing their trills in 
lively fashion, and the young ones twittering coax- 
