90 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 



paratus of the crow blackbird marking him any- 

 where. Then, though they both belong in the 

 same pigeon-hole, the keel-tailed is a half larger, 

 and the red-wing a trifle smaller than the robin. 

 Known more familiarly, the red-wing lacks the 

 noisy obtrusiveness of his awkward cousin, and 

 usually prefers the field to the dooryard. 



Though as I write the roads are being broken 

 through the drifted snow by plough and kettle, as 

 I turn over the crumpled leaves of the small note- 

 book I have carried on so many tramps, the first 

 faint, penciled notes I find on the red-wing take 

 me back into May, and, in fancy, we are again 

 starting down the hill to the swampy meadows 

 where 



" The red-wing flutes his o-ka-lee." 



Did you ever see a meadow full of cowslips ? 

 Here is the true field of the cloth of gold. It 

 looks as if father Sun had crumbled up sunbeams 

 and scattered the bits over the meadow ! As you 

 sink into the soft wet ground, every few steps 

 bring you to a luxuriant clump of the tender 

 green plants lit up by flower cups of glistening- 

 gold. Each bunch seems more beautiful than the 

 last, and, like a child, I would carry the whole 

 field full of flowers home in my arms ! This sun- 

 garden is the red-wing's playground. As we stroll 

 along, he flies over our heads calling out o-ka-lee, 

 and then, with outstretched wings, soars slowly 

 down to the ground, where he sits and wags his 

 tail as fast as a catbird. 



