MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



tremulous accompaniment so suggestive of the lin- 

 gering vibrations of stringed instruments, repre- 

 sent the wood-thrush portion of the choir ; for the 

 friendly little travellers have returned to the wait- 

 ing forest-nook. 



Now we hear the Baltimore oriole's ringing, 

 clarion-like notes, and a rippling, rollicking, musi- 

 cal outburst from a cat-bird. There is an ex- 

 quisite orchard oriole rhapsody, and now, thanks to 

 a momentary lull, an aria from a warbling vireo 

 reaches us, and we hear a gentle song-sparrow's 

 ecstatic hymn and an enthusiastic little trill from 

 a chippie. But the chorus-tide turns again, and 

 stronger voices once more overpower the weaker 

 in the great volume of song that even the grackles' 

 harsh notes cannot make inharmonious. In fact 

 they serve as a species of sub-structure; a sort of 

 rough but substantial foundation for the beautiful 

 edifice that rests upon them. 



Hosts of transients making a halt of a few 

 hours, or perhaps a few days, in the grove, add 

 their hymns of praise to the joyful songs of birds 

 that are nesting with us ; but above and beyond all 

 other voices rise the redbreasts' familiar notes. 

 Lowell pronounced- a chorus of robins " unri- 

 valled, as like primitive fire worshippers they hail 



