GOOD-BYE TO SUMMER 221 



know it the year will have once more set the 

 world on fire. 



As for those other signs, there is a whole cal- 

 endar of bird voices and bird movements that 

 might well give us the dates, day by day. To 

 me the first warning of the passing of summer 

 comes in the tin-trumpet notes of the blue jays. 

 While the nesting season is on the blue jay is as 

 dumb as an oyster. The woods may be full of 

 him and his tribe, but never an old bird says a 

 word. After the young can fly you may hear 

 them if you slip quietly along in the pine woods. 

 You have to be pretty near though, to do it. 

 They sit in a family group in the treetops and 

 complain, under the breath, hungrily. It is not 

 until the young are well grown, the moulting sea- 

 son is over and the summer pretty nearly the 

 same that any blue jay gets his voice. Then, al- 

 most as suddenly as the coming of autumn color- 

 ing in the trees the racket begins. You may not 

 have seen a blue jay in the woods for months. 

 Suddenly they appear in flocks, swooping down 

 on the orchard in brand new uniforms of con- 

 spicuous blue, white and black, yelling tooting 

 and chattering. They have been shy and care- 



