A SWALLOW CONFERENCE 237 



one would sing his quaint and charming 

 song for half an hour at a time without 

 pause, in so loud a tone that I hardly recog- 

 nized it at first. 



One morning before I was well awake, I 

 heard a great chattering of swallows, so near 

 it seemed they must be in the room. Rous- 

 ing myself I looked to the window, where 

 appeared a little black head against the 

 screen, constantly turning from side to side, 

 with bright black eyes peering into the room. 

 He was keeping sharp watch over me, while 

 some sort of a conference was in progress 

 on the roof of the piazza before the window. 

 There was no singing, but excited conversa- 

 tional notes in many voices. As long as I 

 made no movement the talk went on, but on 

 my first involuntary stirring the watchman 

 on the sill uttered a cry, and the meeting 

 adjourned without ceremony. What kill-joys 

 we have made ourselves to the birds. 



May mornings on the shore of Lake Mich- 

 igan were opened by the songs of a wren, 

 a house-wren, in wooing time, and, 



" Sweet and clear 

 His cheerful call came to the ear, 

 While light was slowly growing." 



