THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. n 



a primitive fashion. Passing through the woods, on 

 some clear, still morning in March, while the metallic 

 ring and tension of winter are still in the earth and air, 

 the silence is suddenly broken by long, resonant ham- 

 mering upon a dry limb or stub. It is Downy beating 

 a reveille to spring. In the utter stillness and amid the 

 rigid forms we listen with pleasure ; and as it comes to 

 my ear oftener at this season than at any other, I freely 

 exonerate the author of it from the imputation of any 

 gastronomic motives, and credit him with a genuine 

 musical performance. 



It is to be expected, therefore, that " Yellow-ham- 

 mer " will respond to the .general tendency, and contri- 

 bute his part to the spring chorus. His April call is 

 his finest touch, his most musical expression. 



I recall an ancient maple standing sentry to a large 

 sugar-bush, that, year after year, afforded protection to 

 a brood of yellow-hammers in its decayed heart. A 

 week or two before the nesting seemed actually to have 

 begun, three or four of these birds might be seen, on 

 almost any bright morning, gamboling and courting 

 amid its decayed branches. Sometimes you would 

 hear only a gentle, persuasive cooing, or a quiet, confi- 

 dential chattering, — then that long, loud call, taken 

 up by first one, then another, as they sat about upon 

 the naked limbs, — anon, a sort of wild, rollicking 

 laughter, intermingled with various cries, yelps, and 

 squeals, as if some incident had excited their mirth 

 and ridicule. Whether this social hilarity and boister- 



