SPRING AT THE CAPITAL 143 



A curious and charming sound may be heard here 

 in May. You are walking forth in the soft morn- 

 ing air, when suddenly there conies a burst of bobo- 

 link melody from some mysterious source. A score 

 of throats pour out one brief, hilarious, tuneful 

 jubilee and are suddenly silent. There is a strange 

 remoteness and fascination about it. Presently you 

 discover its source skyward, and a quick eye will 

 detect the gay band pushing northward. They 

 seem to scent the fragrant meadows afar off, and 

 shout forth snatches of their songs in anticipation. 



The bobolink does not breed in the District, but 

 usually pauses in his journey and feeds during the 

 day in the grass-lands north of the city. When the 

 season is backward, they tarry a week or ten days, 

 singing freely and appearing quite at home. In 

 large flocks they search over every inch of ground, 

 and at intervals hover on the wing or alight in the 

 treetops, all pouring forth their gladness at once, 

 and filling the air with a multitudinous musical 

 clamor. 



They continue to pass, traveling by night and 

 feeding by day, till after the middle of May, when 

 they cease. In September, with numbers greatly 

 increased, they are on their way back. I am first 

 advised of their return by hearing their calls at 

 night as they fly over the city. On certain nights 

 the sound becomes quite noticeable. I have awak- 

 ened in the middle of the night, and, through the 

 open window, as J lay in bed, heard their faint 

 notes. The warblers begin to return about the 



