SPRING AT THE CAPITAL. 155 



starlings ; also of the tanagers and the various gross- 

 beaks. On the other hand, the songs of other birds, 

 as of certain of the thrushes, suggests the serene blue 

 of the upper sky. 



In February, one may hear, in the Smithsonian 

 grounds, the song of the fox-sparrow. It is a strong, 

 richly modulated whistle, — the finest sparrow note I 

 have ever heard. 



A curious and charming sound may be heard here in 

 May. You are walking forth in the soft morning air, 

 when suddenly there comes a burst of bobolink melody 

 from some mysterious source. A score of throats 

 pour out one brief, hilarious, tuneful jubilee, and are 

 suddenly silent. There is a strange remoteness, and 

 fascination about it. Presently you discover its source 

 skyward, and a quick eye will detect the gay band 

 pushing northward. They seem to scent the fragrant 

 meadows afar off, and shout forth snatches of their 

 songs in anticipation. 



The bobolink does not breed in the District, but 

 usually pauses in his journey and feeds during the day 

 in the grass-lands north of the city. When the season 

 is backward, they tarry a week or ten days, singing 

 freely and appearing quite at home. In large flocks 

 they search over every inch of ground, and at intervals, 

 hover on the wing or alight in the tree-tops, all pour- 

 ing forth their gladness at once, and filling the air with 

 a multitudinous musical clamor. 



They continue to pass, travelling by night and feed- 



