THE FAMILIAR BIRDS 



Yesterday I walked in my neighbor's woods and 

 orchards and saw many of these passing warblers — 

 the bay-breasted, the black-capped, the magnolia, 

 the black-throated blue, and others. How fresh they 

 looked! They seemed just to have stepped out of 

 Audubon. They conferred a new dignity upon the 

 trees — those old, commonplace scenes, and then 

 this touch of art and science and literature, how 

 novel it was ! The male scarlet tanager down in the 

 ploughed field — a vivid bit of color upon the brown 

 earth, how it delighted the eye ! A cuckoo called and 

 called in a maple, and then launched out in the air 

 and flew down the hill, its long tail, its slender 

 body, its thin wings, and its characteristic move- 

 ments how strange when contrasted with the other 

 birds, so different from them all! A robin made 

 a drive at it in the tree, which is a hint that the 

 cuckoo is a criminal among the birds, probably at 

 times destroying their eggs, as has been alleged of it. 



Do we ever outgrow the charm and the wonder 

 of the first song sparrow's nest on the ground, 

 tucked away under the grass, or hidden under a 

 mossy bank — a bit of the waste and litter of the 

 great crude out-of-doors taking such neat and 

 pretty shape, and holding such delicate, pearl-like 

 bodies? Can we behold it without a fresh thrill of 

 pleasure? The rough, unkempt field or roadside, and 

 in its midst this delicate, living treasure which a 

 passing foot may crush, or some prowling enemy 



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