The Birds’ Calendar 
max and anti-climax, as the sun annually 
creeps up from its low southerly circuit to the 
zenith and back again, making the coldness, 
desolation, and stillness of January culminate in 
the warmth, the exuberance of plant and ani- 
mal life, and the full chorus of birds in June, 
only to relapse again into the frozen and dreary 
silence of mid-winter. It is the balmy breath 
of spring that wafts hither the migrants from 
the south—the sharp chill of autumn that sum- 
mons them from the north. The fall-transit is 
in the mood of the season; only a faint re- 
minder of the holiday procession in May; and 
the volume of life suddenly but faintly swelling 
and disappearing at that time, is like the last 
expiring brightness of the candle, except for 
the few and welcome species that tide us over 
the winter. 
s 
The procession of returning migrants seems 
to have been led this year by the black-throated 
green warblers, which I found quite abundant 
on the 17th, eagerly exploring the branches of 
pine trees, and uttering their musical chirp that 
is in such marked contrast to the common- 
place note of the sparrow. ‘The males are not 
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