16 THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. 



ical in a pensile nest. Next to a castle in the air is a 

 dwelling suspended to the slender branch of a tall 

 tree, swayed and rocked forever by the wind. Why 

 need wings be afraid of falling ? Why build only 

 where boys can climb? After all, we must set it 

 down to the account of Robin's democratic turn ; he 

 is no aristocrat, but one of the people ; and therefore 

 we should expect stability in his workmanship, rather 

 than elegance. 



Another April bird, which makes her appearance 

 sometimes earlier and sometimes later than Robin, 

 and whose memory I fondly cherish, is the Phoebe- 

 bird (Muscicapa nunciola), the pioneer of the fly- 

 catchers. In the inland farming districts, I used to 

 notice her, on some bright morning about Easter- 

 day, proclaiming her arrival with much variety of 

 motion and attitude, from the peak of the barn or 

 hay-shed. As yet, you may have heard only the 

 plaintive, homesick note of the bluebird, or the faint 

 trill of the song-sparrow; and Phoebe's clear, viva 

 cious assurance of her veritable bodily presence 

 among us again is welcomed by all ears. At agreea- 

 ble intervals in her lay she describes a circle or an 

 ellipse in the air, ostensibly prospecting for insects, 

 but really, I suspect, as an artistic flourish, thrown 

 :n to make up in some way for the deficiency of her 

 musical performance. If plainness of dress indicates 

 powers of song, as it usually does, then Phoebe ought 

 to be unrivaled in musical ability, for surely that 

 gray suit is the superlative of plainness ; and 



