MY GARDEN ACQUAINTANCE. 7 



them. It should seem that their coming was dated by 

 the height of the sun, which betrays them into unthrifty 

 matrimony ; 



" So nature pricketh hem in their corages " ; 

 but their going is another matter. The chimney-swal- 

 lows leave us early, for example, apparently so soon as 

 their latest fledglings are firm enough of wing to at- 

 tempt the long rowing-match that is before them. On 

 the other hand, the wild-geese probably do not leave the 

 North till they are frozen out, for I have heard their 

 bugles sounding southward so late as the middle of 

 December. What may be called local migrations are 

 doubtless dictated by the chances of food. I have once 

 been visited by large flights of cross-bills ; and whenever 

 the snow lies long and deep on the ground, a flock of 

 cedar-birds comes in midwinter to eat the berries on my 

 hawthorns. I have never been quite able to fathom the 

 local, or rather geographical partialities of birds. Never 

 before this summer (1870) have the king-birds, hand- 

 somest of flycatchers, built in my orchard ; though I 

 always know where to find them within half a mile. 

 The rose-breasted grosbeak has been a familiar bird in 

 Brookline (three miles away), yet I never saw one here 

 till last July, when I found a female busy among my 

 raspberries and surprisingly bold. I hope she was pros- 

 pecting with a view to settlement in our garden. She 

 seemed, on the whole, to think well of my fruit, and I 

 would gladly plant another bed if it would help to win 

 over so delightful a neighbor. 



The return of the robin is commonly announced by 

 the newspapers, like that of eminent or notorious people 

 to a watering-place, as the first authentic notification of 

 spring. And such his appearance in the orchard and 

 garden undoubtedly is. But, in spite of his name of 

 migratory thrush, he stays with us all winter, and 1 



