A SHORT MONTH 6 



In May the birds come home. This is 

 really what makes the month so short. 

 There is no time to see half that is going 

 on. In this town alone it would take a 

 score of good walkers, good lookers, and 

 good listeners to welcome all the pretty 

 creatures that will this month return from 

 their winter's exile. Some came in March, 

 of course, and more in April ; but now they 

 are coming in troops. It is great fun to see 

 them; a pleasure inexpressible to wake in 

 the morning, as I did this morning (May 8), 

 and still lying in bed, to hear the first breezy 

 fifing of a Baltimore oriole, just back over 

 night after an eight months' absence. Birds 

 must be lovers of home to continue living in 

 a climate where life is possible to them only 

 four months of the year. 



Six days ago (May 2) a rose-breasted 

 grosbeak gladdened the morning in a similar 

 manner, though he was a little farther away, 

 so that I did not hear him until I stepped 

 out upon the piazza. I stood still a minute 

 or two, listening to the sweet " rolling " war- 

 ble, and then crossed the street to have a 

 look at the rose color. It was just as bright 

 as I remembered it. 



