IN THE WREN ORCHARD. 199 



high land, low land, dry land, wet land, open 

 land, wooded land, hard wood, soft wood, ever- 

 green wood and apple wood all the elements 

 of home and shelter which a majority of land 

 birds desire. No wonder then that summer and 

 winter the wren orchard is alive with birds. 

 As I write these words merry calls and music 

 come from all its quarters in pleasing medley. 

 Many of the birds have nests near by, others are 

 building or planning where to place their nests. 

 The latest migrants are now here. In the low 

 land south of the orchard I hear a blackballed 

 cuckoo, saying "Coo-coo-coo, coo-coo-coo, coo- 

 coo-coo-coo, coo-coo-coo-coo." In the largest of 

 the elms east of the orchard an indigo bird is 

 singing his clear and joyous notes. His coloring 

 is as intense as that of a scarlet tanager which I 

 have been watching in the highest branches of a 

 great oak. Another late migrant, whose voice 

 is in my ears, is the wood pewee. His notes, 

 like most of the sounds made by the tyrant fly- 

 catchers, are querulous and unmusical. He 

 seems to be continually complaining that insects 

 will not fly into his mouth. 



The thrush family inhabits this orchard in 

 numbers. Robins build in the apple-trees, 

 a nest with four eggs in it is in the tree next me, 

 catbirds and brown thrushes dwell in the 

 clumps and hedges of barberry bushes with 



