PEPACTON 



THE SPRING BIRDS 



We never know the precise time the birds leave 

 us in the fall : they do not go suddenly ; their de- 

 parture is like that of an army of occupation in 

 no hurry to be off; they keep going and going, and 

 we hardly know when the last straggler is gone. 

 Not so their return in the spring : then it is like 

 an army of invasion, and we know the very day 

 when the first scouts appear. It is a memorable 

 event. Indeed, it is always a surprise to me, and 

 one -of the compensations of our abrupt and change- 

 able climate, this suddenness with which the birds 

 come in spring, in fact, with which spring itself 

 comes, alighting, maybe, to tarry only a day or 

 two, but real and genuine, for all that. When 

 March arrives, we do not know what a day may 

 bring forth. It is like turning over a leaf, a new 

 chapter of startling incidents lying just on the other 

 side. 



A few days ago, Winter had not perceptibly 

 relaxed his hold; then suddenly he began to soften 

 a little, and a warm haze to creep up from the 

 south, but not a solitary bird, save the winter resi- 

 dents, was to be seen or heard. Next day the sun 

 Deemed to have drawn immensely nearer; his beams 

 were full of power; and we said, "Behold the first 

 spring morning! And, as if to make the prophecy 

 complete, there is the note of a bluebird, and it is 

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