THE SPRING BIRD PROCESSION 



bloomed together: cherry, pear, peach, apple, all 

 held back till they could stand it no longer. Pink 

 peach-orchards and white apple-orchards at the 

 same time and place made an unusual spectacle. 



The cold, wet w^eather, of course, held up the bird 

 procession also. The warblers and other migrants 

 lingered and accumulated. The question of food be- 

 came a very serious one with all the insect-eaters. 

 The insects did not hatch, or, if they did, they 

 kept very close to cover. The warblers, driven from 

 the trees, took to the ground. It was an unusual 

 spectacle to see these delicate and many-colored 

 spirits of the air and of the tree-tops hopping 

 about amid the clods and the rubbish, searching for 

 something they could eat. They were like jewels 

 in the gutter, or flowers on the sidewalk. 



For several days in succession I saw several 

 speckled Canada warblers hopping about my newly 

 planted garden, evidently with poor results; then it 

 was two or more Blackburnian warblers looking 

 over the same ground, their new black-and-white 

 and vivid orange plumage fairly illuminating the 

 dull surface. The redstarts flashed along the ground 

 and about the low bushes and around the outbuild- 

 ings, delighting the eye in the same way. Bay- 

 breasted warblers tarried and tarried, now on the 

 ground, now in the lower branches of the trees or in 

 bushes. I sat by a rapid rocky stream one after- 

 noon and watched for half an hour a score or more 



15 



