116 RAMBLES ABOUT HOUk\ 



I feel quite confident that in exceptionally mild sea- 

 sons many more migratory birds winter in southern New 

 Jersey than ornithologists suspect ; and I can see in the 

 lingering remnant of the great flight of warblers that an- 

 nually pass through the State that gradual adaptation to 

 surrounding conditions, on the part of birds, that as cen- 

 turies roll by, evolve, by that mystery of mysteries the 

 survival of the fittest, new species from the old. 



Again, long after the true insect-eaters have passed 

 southward, beyond the limits of the State, and scarcely a 

 leaf is left upon the forest-trees, when not one straggling 

 fly-catcher, in a day's walk, can be found hovering about 

 the many spots so lately tenanted by myriads of their 

 kind, we have yet the pleasure of seeing in our rambles 

 many a blithe sparrow, restless tit, or noisy nut-hatch, 

 either in the fields or about leafless hedges, or haunting 

 the still green but nearly deserted swampy meadows ; pr 

 high up in the lofty pines, and amid the thickest branches 

 of the gloomy cedar, we may chance to find hosts of merry 

 linnets, full of song, or fiery kinglets that scold like 

 wrens, should you approach too near. 



Of our many sparrows, of which several are resident 

 species, I have noted down for several years, when the 

 severity of the winter was yet to come, even as late as 

 the middle of December, the presence of three or four 

 species that may be considered as migratory. For in- 

 stance, in the wet, reedy meadows, it is not until winter 

 has incased in ice the tangled grasses that the sharp- 

 tailed finch and swamp - sparrow quit their home. In 

 1872, and again in 187-i, which latter year was the most 

 remarkable for the number and variety of birds of any in 

 my memory, I noticed that in the dry, upland fields, all 

 through November's hazy Indian summer, the sprightly, 

 black -throated bunting remained, in little companies; 



