154 NATURE'S CALENDAR 



July 2 lark, and sparrow ; the heated woods are 



silent, and we say that the birds are too 

 languid to sing in this close and torrid 

 air. That is partly true, no doubt, but 

 the main reason for the silence of this 

 noontime of the year is that the season 

 of nesting is done with, the musicians no 

 longer are inspired by the eagerness of 

 courtship, but are away by themselves in 

 selfish freedom, or else are busy in help- 

 ing the little mothers to guide and guard 

 the young. 



By August the singing of birds has 

 almost altogether ceased, and we hear 

 only in the early morning or at evening 

 feeble reminders of the brilliant notes of 

 May and June. Excepting the friends 

 that trustfully inhabit our gardens, we 

 see few birds unless we loiter by shady 

 brooks, while the mammals — always shy 

 of exhibiting themselves — keep more out 

 of sight now than ever, save such familiar 

 ones as the warmth -loving woodchucks 

 and squirrels of the East, and the always 

 lively gophers and ground squirrels of 

 the West. Let us not forget, however, 

 that on moonlit nights, as harvest-time 

 approaches and the evening chiming of 

 the veery fades from our reluctant ears, 

 the raccoons, muskrats, and big squirrels 

 by twos and threes are slyly studying 

 the progress of the cornfields, and pres- 

 ently are fattening on the milky ears. 

 This hot, dry, sunny weather, how- 



. ever, is the heyday of insect life. Lie 



Julys 



