THE BLUE BIRD. 



Winged lute that we call a blue bird, 



You blend in a silver strain 

 The sound of the laughing waters, 



The patter of spring's sweet rain, 

 The voice of the wind, the sunshine, 



And fragrance of blossoming things, 

 Ah ! you are a poem of April 



That God endowed with wings. E. E. R. 



I IKE a bit of sky this little 

 harbinger of spring appears, 

 as we see uim and his mate 

 ^househunting in early 

 March. Oftentimes he 

 makes his appearance as early as the 

 middle of February, when his attrac 

 tive note is heard long before he him 

 self is seen. He is one of the last to 

 leave us, and although the month of 

 November is usually chosen by him as 

 the fitting time for departure to a 

 milder clime, his plaintive note is 

 quite commonly heard on pleasant 

 days throughout the winter season, 

 and a few of the braver and hardier 

 ones never entirely desert us. The 

 Robin and the Blue Bird are tenderly 

 associated in the memories of most 

 persons whose childhood was passed 

 on a farm or in the country village. 

 Before the advent of the English 

 Sparrow, the Blue Bird was sure to be 

 the first to occupy and the last to de 

 fend the little box prepared for his re 

 turn, appearing in his blue jacket 

 somewhat in advance of the plainly 

 habited female, who on her arrival 

 quite often found a habitation selected 

 and ready for her acceptance, should 

 he find favor in her sight. And then 

 he becomes a most devoted husband 

 and father, sitting by the nest 

 and warbling with earnest affection 

 his exquisite tune, and occasionally fly 

 ing away in search of food for his mate 

 and nestlings. 



The Blue Bird rears two broods in 

 the season, and, should the weather be 

 mild, even three. His nest contains 

 three eggs. 



In the spring and summer when he 

 is happy and gay, his song is ex 



tremely soft and agreeable, while it 

 grows very mournful and plaintive as 

 cold weather approaches. He is mild 

 of temper, and a peaceable and harm 

 less neighbor, setting a fine example 

 of amiability to his feathered friends. 

 In the early spring, however, he wages 

 war against robins, wrens, swallows, 

 and other birds whose habitations are 

 of a kind to take his fancy. A cele 

 brated naturalist says : " This bird 

 seems incapable of uttering a harsh 

 note, or of doing a spiteful, ill-temp 

 ered thing." 



Nearly everybody has his anecdote 

 to tell of the Blue Bird's courage, but 

 the author of "Wake Robin" tells 

 his exquisitely thus : " A few years 

 ago I put up a little bird house in the 

 back end of my garden for the accom 

 modation of the wrens, and every 

 season a pair have taken up their 

 abode there. One spring a pair of 

 Blue Birds looked into the tenement, 

 and lingered about several days, lead 

 ing me to hope that they would con 

 clude to occupy it. But they finally 

 went away. Late in the season the 

 wrens appeared, and after a little co 

 quetting, were regularly installed in 

 their old quarters, and were as happy 

 as only wrens can be. But before 

 their honeymoon was over, the Blue 

 Birds returned. I knew something 

 was wrong before I was up in the 

 morning. Instead of "that voluble and 

 gushing song outside the window, I 

 heard the wrens scolding and crying 

 out at a fearful rate, and on going out 

 saw the Blue Birds in possession of 

 the box. The poor wrens were in 

 despair and were forced to look for 

 other quarters." 



