236 UPLAND SHOOTING. 



life, yet ever fresh in our memories, and the sky would 

 seem gladder, the trees and grass a richer green, if they 

 were only brought in contrast with the variegated colors 

 of the pigeons resplendent in the light of the setting sun. 

 We miss them more than any other birds, for with us 

 we always looked forward in pleasant anticipation of 

 their coming, for they were the companions and the mild 

 associates of budding spring; and when we saw them 

 skimming along just over the highest trees, looking for 

 some expected place for alighting, seeking a spot to build 

 their homes, we knew that, 



" In soft spring-time they seek some lone retreat, 

 Where endless forests stretch their bowery realm, 

 And here they build their nests and rear their brood; 

 Here tender grass and underwood die out, 

 And earth is strewn with wither'd branch of trees, 

 Broken by weight of birds that roost above." 



And then, when summer months have passed, when the 

 leaves are tremulously falling to the earth, and the 

 changing beauties of the maples awaken our admiration, 

 " when ripe October kindles all the woods, flushing the 

 oak and beech trees with a blaze," as if the pigeons 

 knew how welcome they were, they brightened the 

 heavens again in their homeward flights, wending their 

 way toward their southern homes, where, in mid- winter, 

 free from frost and snow and the piercing wintry winds 

 of the North, they sought the ambrosial forests, and 

 beneath the sunny skies, sitting basking in the warm sun's 

 rays, they dozed the time away, listening to the tinkling 

 of the surf on the beach, or the songs of the bright-plum- 

 aged birds that fluttered near, and favored them with 

 sweetest melody in their constant serenadings. 



