THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS 11 



if the Indians heard the wood thrush as we hear 

 him. Where did the bobolink disport himself 

 before there were meadows in the North and rice- 

 fields in the South? Was he the same lithe, 

 merry-hearted beau then as now? And the spar- 

 row, the lark, and the goldfinch, birds that seem 

 so indigenous to the open fields and so averse to 

 the woods, we cannot conceive of their existence 

 in a vast wilderness and without man. 



But to return. The song sparrow, that univer- 

 sal favorite and firstling of the spring, comes before 

 April, and its simple strain gladdens all hearts. 



May is the month of the swallows and the 

 orioles. There are many other distinguished arri- 

 vals, indeed nine tenths of the birds are here by 

 the last week in May, yet the swallows and orioles 

 are the most conspicuous. The bright plumage of 

 the latter seems really like an arrival from the 

 tropics. I see them dash through the blossoming 

 trees, and all the forenoon hear their incessant 

 warbling and wooing. The swallows dive and 

 chatter about the barn, or squeak and build beneath 

 the eaves; the partridge drums in the fresh sprout- 

 ing woods; the long, tender note of the meadow- 

 lark comes up from the meadow; and at sunset, 

 from every marsh and pond come the ten thousand 

 voices of the hylas. May is the transition month, 

 and exists to connect April and June, the root with 

 the flower. 



With June the cup is full, our hearts are satis- 

 fied, there is no more to be desired. The perfec- 



