146 Twelve Months With 



and pass on to their winter homes in south tem- 

 perate and tropic latitudes. Also during the day 

 many of the more hardy species, including the birds 

 of prey, may be seen passing overhead upon their 

 long journey. 



Mr. P. McArthur has dedicated a poem to the 

 autumn migration of the birds, from which I 

 quote these lines: 



"From streams no oar hath rippled 



And lakes that waft no sail, 

 From reaches vast and lonely 



That know no hunter's trail, 

 The clamor of their calling 



And the whistling of their flight, 

 Fill all the day with marvel, 



And with mystery the night." 



September, with its returning hosts from the 

 north, while it brings joy to the heart of the bird 

 lover, also brings its touch of sadness, for when 

 its days are gone many of the summer residents 

 have gone also, to return no more until spring. 



But as they go we recall these reassuring lines 

 from Mrs. Sangster: 



"They'll come again to the apple tree, 



Robin: and all the rest, 

 When the orchard branches are fair to see 



In the snow of blossoms dressed, 

 And the prettiest thing in the world will be 



Th'e building of the nest." 



