THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. 



tall tre< ep forests, but in low, dense shrubbery 



where there are plenty of gnats and 

 mosquil 



The winter-wren is another marvelous songster, in 

 speaking of whom it is difficult to avoid superlatives. 

 II is not so conscious of his powers and so ambitious 

 of effect as the white-eyed fly-catcher, yet you will not 

 be 1< onished and delighted on hearing him. He 



pos> the fluency and copiousness for which the 



wrens are noted, and besides these qualities, and what 

 is rarely found conjoined with them, a wild, sweet, 

 rhythmical cadence that holds you entranced. I shall 

 not soon forget that perfect June clay, when, loitering 

 in a low, ancient hemlock wood, in whose cathedral 

 aisles the coolness and freshness seemed perennial, the 

 silence was suddenly broken by a strain so rapid and 

 gushing, and touched with such a wild, sylvan plain- 

 tiveness, that I listened in amazement. And so shy 

 and coy was the little minstrel, that I came twice to 

 the woods before I was sure to whom I was listening. 

 In summer, he is one of those birds of the deep north- 

 ern forests, that, like the speckled Canada warbler 

 and the hermit-thrush, only the privileged ones hear. 



The distribution of plants in a given locality is not 

 more marked and defined than that of the birds. 

 Show a botanist a landscape, and he will tell you 

 where to look for the lady's-slipper, the columbine, 

 or the harebell. On the same principles the ornithol- 

 ogist will direct you where to look for the greenlets, 



