12 THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. 



to deliberate for days over the policy of tak- 

 ing forcible possession of one of the mud- 

 houses of the latter. But as the season ad- 

 vances they drift more into the background. 

 Schemes of conquest which they at first 

 seemed bent upon are abandoned, and they 

 settle down very quietly in their old quarters 

 in remote stumpy fields. 



Not long after the bluebird comes the 

 robin, sometimes in March, but in most of 

 the Northern States April is the month of 

 the robin. In large numbers they scour the 

 fields and groves. You hear their piping in 

 the meadow, in the pasture, on the hill-side. 

 Walk in the woods, and the dry leaves rustle 

 with the whir of their wings, the air is vocal 

 with their cheery call. In excess of joy and 

 vivacity, they run, leap, scream, chase each 

 other through the air, diving and sweeping 

 among the trees with perilous rapidity. 



In that free, fascinating, half-work and 

 half-play pursuit, sugar-making, a pursuit 

 which yet lingers in many parts of New York, 

 as in New England, the robin is one's con- 

 stant companion. When the day is sunny 

 and the ground bare, you meet him at all 

 points and hear him at all hours. At sunset, 

 on the tops of the tall maples, with look 



