THE SPRING BIRD PROCESSION 



briefly in my currant-patch. The bobolink begins to 

 burst out in sudden snatches of song, high in air, as 

 he nears his northern haunts. I have often in May 

 heard the black-poll warbler deliver his fine strain, 

 like that of some ticking insect, but have never 

 heard the bay-breasted nor the speckled Canada 

 during migration. None of these birds sing or nest 

 in the tropical countries where they pass more than 

 half the year. They are like exiles there; the joy 

 and color fade out of their lives in the land of color 

 and luxuriance. The brilliant tints come to their plu- 

 mage, and the songs to their hearts, only when the 

 breeding impulse sends them to their brief north- 

 ern homes. Tennyson makes his swallow say, 



"I do but wanton in the South, 

 While in the North long since my nest is made." 



It is highly probable, if not certain, that the 

 matches made in the North endure but for a season, 

 and that new mates are chosen each spring. The 

 males of most species come a few days in advance 

 of the females, being, I suppose, supercharged with 

 the breeding impulse. 



That birds have a sense of home and return in 

 most cases to their old haunts, is quite certain. But 

 whether both sexes do this, or only the males, I 

 have no proof. But I have proof which I consider 

 positive that the male song sparrow returns, and 

 there is pretty good evidence that the same thing 



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