412 NOTES ON NEW ENGLAND BIRDS 



chance, or a red-eye, but no thrashers, or catbirds, or 

 oven-birds, or the jingle of the chewink. I hear the 

 ominous twittering of the goldfinch over all. 



March 18, 1853. How eagerly the birds of passage 

 penetrate the northern ice, watching for a crack by 

 which to enter ! Forthwith the swift ducks will be seen 

 winging their way along the rivers and up the coast. 

 They watch the weather more sedulously than the 

 teamster. All nature is thus forward to move with the 

 revolution of the seasons. Now for some days the birds 

 have been ready by myriads, a flight or two south, to 

 invade our latitudes and, with this mild and serener 

 weather, resume their flight. 



I came forth expecting to bear new birds, and I am 

 not disappointed. We know well what to count upon. 

 Their coming is more sure than the arrival of the sailing 

 and steaming packets. Almost while I listen for this 

 purpose, I hear the chuch, chuck of a blackbird in the 

 sky, whom I cannot detect. So small an object is lost 

 in the wide expanse of the heavens, though no obstacle 

 intervenes. When your eye has detected it, you can 

 follow it well enough, but it is difficult to bring your 

 sight to bear on it, as to direct a telescope to a particular 

 star. How many hawks may fly undetected, yet within 

 sight, above our heads ! And there 's the great gull I 

 came to see, already fishing in front of Bittern Cliff. 

 Now he stoops to the water for his prey, but sluggishly, 

 methinks. He requires a high and perhaps a head wind 

 to make his motions graceful. I see no mate. He must 

 have come up, methinks, before the storm was over, 



