21 I>ule*ai0e IRamble 



and are not here now are less familiar than song- 

 sparrows, and, though finer singers, are not more 

 welcome than the constant friends of all seasons. 



As suddenly as they appeared, many birds 

 about me as quickly departed. I could scarcely 

 trace their movements, and in a moment they 

 were out of sight. What could have frightened 

 them, and where would they find safer quarters ? 

 I questioned myself thus, and soon had a reply, 

 not from myself. A curious moaning sound from 

 overhead, then a slight swaying of the tree-tops, 

 then the blast of chilling air from the frozen north. 

 How did the birds foretell its coming ? I do not 

 for a moment admit the possibility of mere coin- 

 cidence. What is the character of the forerunner 

 of these cold waves that appears to whisper so 

 gently and hint so delicately that only a bird can 

 understand the warning ? In this case the change 

 in temperature was very marked, though I did 

 not mind it. It is always summer on the sunny 

 side of the oak, and I betook myself to it. There 

 was a glorious outlook over wide-spread meadows, 

 and how gracefully the tall sedges and bleached 

 grasses stand guard over the timid mice that ven- 

 ture abroad beneath them. Cunning and quick, 

 yet not always equal to escaping the sharp eyes of 

 the harrier or the marsh owl. There is poetry in 

 the motion of most of our birds of prey, which 

 even those who have most closely studied our 

 outdoor world seem to have overlooked. A hawk 



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