THE BEECH WOODS 



but with such delightful abandon do 

 they seek their food, one would suspect 

 their endless journey ings were for the 

 sheer joy of it. 



On a certain May morning that 

 threatened rain the Neighbour found 

 the Beech Woods melodious with song 

 and alive with industry. Warblers of 

 many varieties were about, searching 

 among the branches and on the ground 

 flicking over the leaves for food. This 

 was a fairly sure sign of rain. The 

 beautiful Blackburnian warbler, dart- 

 ing hither and thither from branch to 

 branch along the border of the creek, 

 flashing his rich orange and black 

 plumage, enlivened the scene. Occa- 

 sionally he stopped long enough to give 

 forth his high-pitched, attractive song. 

 Perched on a branch in a budding bass- 

 wood tree, like a jewel in a setting of 

 pale silver green, a scarlet tanager 

 meditated between bursts of cheery 

 song. His brilliant plumage seemed 

 almost out of place in these northern 

 woods, and suggested another world of 

 great-leaved palms and exotic plants 

 and vines. A saucy little house wren, 

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