AN OCTOBER DIARY. 311 



tion. The meadow shell-bark is the chiefest of them 

 all. However otherwise opinions may differ, my neigh- 

 bors are one with rae in this. It is always mentioned 

 with an emphasized the. 



When, in midwinter, a year ago, the meadows were 

 snowclad, and scarcely afforded shelter to a wandering 

 rabbit, this splendid tree was the resting-place — the ob- 

 servatory — of an eagle that spent a month with us, in 

 spite of persecution. In the early spring the branches 

 were often black with the clouds of grakles and star- 

 lings. In summer, when every twig spread its leafy 

 banner to the breeze, this same stately tree was the 

 home of more warblers than all the surrounding thick- 

 ets contained. The preference shown by these birds to 

 this tree over others near by was very marked, and I 

 believe I saw no species of warbler elsewhere not also 

 seen upon it. In September the associated king-birds 

 and bluebirds made it their principal rendezvous; and 

 to-day, as it is dropping its fruit, it harbors birds of half 

 a dozen kinds. The crows are on its topmost branches, 

 a flicker is but little lower down, nuthatches are every- 

 where, a crested tit announces its presence with its clear 

 voice, and restless kinglets chase spiders along the out- 

 ermost twigs. 



October 11. — The air was full of birds, mostly chat- 

 tering robins, but with others fairly represented ; and 

 it was an unusual experience to hear so very much and 

 see next to nothing. The fog, as usual, was most dense 

 over the meadows, and when I plunged into it, bushes 

 a dozen yards distant were no longer to be seen. Do 



