224 OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS 



of us left. At this season he is the town crier 

 of the wood, clanging his bell loudly at every 

 wood-road corner and announcing in strident 

 monotones that straw hats are called in and there 

 is an exhibition sale of fall garments at Wood & 

 Field's. 



Even in August we get the first spray on the 

 great wave of southward migrating warblers, 

 and all through early September the woods are 

 again full of their slender, flitting forms and 

 their gentle voices. If you know your locality 

 well you may mark the very dates of the month 

 by their coming and going. So with equal defi- 

 niteness the earlier departing of our summer res- 

 idents leaves gaps in our hearts and the wood- 

 land on pretty definite September days. The 

 cry-baby young of the orioles have hardly ceased 

 to complain about the house, making the mid- 

 summer peevish, before the birds are flocking. 

 They take August off the calendar with them. 

 On the date that I miss them and the kingbirds 

 September first is very near if not among those 

 present. The redwing blackbird may linger a 

 day or two after these, but he does not wait to any 

 more than see September arrive before he, too, 

 is off. The bobolinks, perfectly unrecognizable 



