42 



TWENTIETH CENTURY CLASSICS 



sume their song. It would be difficult to draw a correct com- 

 parison between the birds and the various instruments they 

 represent. But if the Robin was described as the clarionet, 

 the Bluebird might be considered the flageolet, frequently, 

 but not incessantly, interspersing a few mellow strains. 

 The Hairbird would be the octave flute, constantly trilling 

 on a high key, and the Golden Robin the bugle, often re- 

 peating his loud and brief strain. The analogy, if carried 

 farther, might lose force and correctness. 



" All the notes of the Bluebird — his call notes — his 

 notes of complaint, his chirp, and his song — are equally 

 plaintive and closely resemble one another. I am not 

 aware that this bird utters a harsh note. His voice, which 

 is one of the earliest to be heard in the springy is associated 

 with the early flowers and with all pleasant vernal in- 

 fluences. When he first arrives he perches upon the roof 

 of a barn or upon some leafless tree, and delivers his few 

 and frequent notes with evident fervor, as if conscious of 

 the pleasures that await him. These mellow notes are all 

 the sounds he makes for several weeks, seldom chirping or 

 scolding like other birds. His song is discontinued at mid- 

 summer, but his plaintive call, consisting of a single note 

 pensively modulated, continues every day until he leaves 

 our fields. This sound is one of the melodies of summer's 

 decline, and reminds us, like the note of the green noc- 

 turnal tree-hopper, of the ripened harvest, the fall of the 

 leaf, and of all the joyous festivals and melancholy remi- 

 niscences of autumn. 



" The Bluebird builds his nest in hollow trees and posts, 

 and may be encouraged to breed around our dwellings by 

 supplying boxes for his accommodation. In whatever 



