270 UPLAND AND MEADOW. 



fects npon bird-life. The many herons even stay close 

 to the river, and Poaetquissings is absolutely deserted. 

 The rain of yesterday and to-day has remedied all these 

 defects, and again I find the great blue heron winging 

 its way up the creek, and the little green ones are here, 

 and everywhere. A bittern, too, I have heard booming 

 in the maple-swamp hard by. Kingfishers are chatter- 

 ing, crows are cawing ; fishes leap above the water, and 

 nature, keeping time to the patter of the rain, makes 

 Poaetquissings her beautiful self again. 



October 4. — Still dull and rainy, but the birds sing 

 notwithstanding, and even the gray squirrels barked 

 and chattered, as I sought their haunts at sunrise; but I 

 am thrilled and my pulse leaps at the sound of a bell- 

 like note that vibrates for just a moment in the tall 

 hyssops in front of me. I looked for the musician that 

 pipes on the single reed, but could not find him. 

 Safely hidden in some little cranny, it is by chance 

 alone that I am likely to discover him. Urged by my 

 hopes, I sat down in the clump of weeds, remaining 

 long, and as quietly as the stump on which I sit. Then, 

 to mock me, every bird in the neighborhood set up a 

 chatter. An inquisitive jay screeched to the full ex- 

 tent of its powers ; this startles the crows, and they 

 caw incessantly. So the sounds are diffused abroad, 

 one creature exciting another, until even the house-dog 

 barked and the hens cackled — and I alone was still. 



The birds then seemed to take the hint and silently 

 busied themselves with securing a breakfast. To be 

 sure, one inquisitive titmouse came within a foot of my 



