WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



ards the idleness which permits human regener- 

 ation. 



I want no book nor companion to soothe me, 

 then, when I go out and lie down in some wood- 

 land nook to watch the warblers, for these are 

 warbler days in the forest and by country roads 

 and village gardens. Tiny creatures in brilliant 

 and unfamiliar feathers illumine the fresh green 

 of the newly leaved trees, and dart like glowing 

 gems among the white and carmine apple-blos- 

 soms, or scatter the paler bloom of cherry or dog- 

 wood. There are dozens of kinds and hundreds 

 of individuals. In the balmy stillness of this 

 remote hill -side attentive ears detect a contin- 

 ual murmur of faint, sweet bird-notes, some afar, 

 some close at hand. Many are mere clicks, like the 

 striking together of small pebbles softly metallic 

 exclamations by which the members of some little 

 band of travellers are keeping in touch as they 

 flit about in search of the small insects upon which 

 they feed, yet ever anxious to move on north- 

 ward, however leisurely. Probably they have 

 been winging their way hither all night through 

 the velvety darkness that palled the world while 

 we slept, and will be off again when twilight once 

 more slowly closes the eyes of day. 



164 



