WITH THE THICKET BIRDS 121 



cause they must, and sleep because they have 

 nothing else to do. Yet it should not be said that 

 they cease activity with the darkness, for the 

 May nights also are times of much stirring. To 

 slip out then into the hushed moonlight and 

 sense the rustle of the night zephyrs stealing up 

 from the southward is to feel and realize that 

 the casual little bird-voices lisping from the 

 heavens tell of but a few of the million little 

 pilgrims hastening northward through the night 

 tiny mariners without chart or compass, and 

 in a vast expanse of unknown sea, but wise in 

 the wisdom of their race and guided by an im- 

 pulse that leads aright. 



Through the night, whisperings stole down 

 through the canvas roof, telling of these tenants 

 of the upper air; and then somewhere between 

 three and four A. M., the early light peeped 

 through the thinly-clad wood, and with it came 

 the song-riot of the morning. The robins were 

 the chief sopranos; there were several of them 

 singing so joyously that they kept up a con- 

 tinuous melody, supplying body to it all. The 

 turtle dove "ah-cooed" so frantically from his 

 dead limb perch that often he was forced to 

 (juit from sheer want of breath, and so stopped 



