AMERICAN ROBIN 391 



row is still more universal but not so powerful. The lark, 

 too, is equally constant, morning and evening, but con- 

 fined to certain localities, as is the blackbird to some ex- 

 tent. The bluebird, with feebler but not less sweet war- 

 bling, helps fill the air, and the phoebe does her part. 

 The tree sparrow, F. hyemalis, and fox-colored sparrows 

 make the meadow-sides or gardens where they are flit- 

 ting vocal, the first with its canary-like twittering, the 

 second with its lively ringing trills or jingle. The third 

 is a very sweet and more powerful singer, which would 

 be memorable if we heard him long enough. The wood- 

 pecker's tapping, though not musical, suggests pleasant 

 associations in the cool morning, — is inspiriting, en- 

 livening. 



The robins, too, now toward sunset, perched on the 

 old apple trees in Tarbell's orchard, twirl forth their 

 evening lays unweariedly. 



Oct. 10, 1853. This morning it is very pleasant and 

 warm. There are many small birds in flocks on the elms 

 in Cheney's field, faintly warbling, — robins and purple 

 finches and especially large flocks of small sparrows, 

 which make a business of washing and pruning them- 

 selves in the puddles in the road, as if cleaning up after a 

 long flight and the wind of yesterday. The faint sup- 

 pressed warbling of the robins sounds like a reminis- 

 cence of the spring. 



March 8, 1855. Stopping in a sunny and sheltered 

 place on a hillock in the woods, — for it was raw in the 

 wind, — I heard the hasty, shuffling, as if frightened, 

 note of a rohin from a dense birch wood, — a sort of 



