1 6 THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS- 



remind one of the passenger-pigeon. His eye, with 

 .1 circle, the shape of his head, and his motions 

 on alighting and taking flight, quickly suggest the re- 

 semblance ; though in grace and speed, when on the 

 wing, he is far inferior. His tail seems disproportion- 

 ately long, like that of the red thrush, and his flight 

 among the trees is very still, contrasting strongly with 

 the honest clatter of the robin or pigeon. 



1 Live you heard the song of the field-sparrow? If 

 you have lived in a pastoral country with broad upland 

 pa>tures. you could hardly have missed him. Wilson, 

 I believe, calls him the grass-finch, and was evidently 

 unacquainted with his powers of song, The two white 

 lateral quills in his tail, and his habit of running and 

 skulking a few yards in advance of you as you walk 

 through the fields, are sufficient to identify him. Not 

 in meadows or orchards, but in high, breezy pasture- 

 grounds, will you look for him. His song is most 

 noticeable after sundown, when other birds are silent ; 

 for which reason he has been aptly called the vesper- 

 sparrow. The farmer following his team from the field 

 at dusk catches his sweetest strain. His song is not 

 so brisk and varied as that of the song-sparrow, being 

 softer and wilder, sweeter and more plaintive. Add 

 the best parts of the lay of the latter to the sweet, 

 vibrating chant of the wood-sparrow, and you have 

 the evening hymn of the vesper-bird, — the poet of 

 the plain, unadorned pastures. Go to those broad, 

 smooth, up-lying fields where the cattle and sheep are 



