THE GALA DAYS OF BIRDS 



MIGRATION is over, and the great influx of 

 birds which last month filled every tree and 

 bush is now distributed over field and wood, from 

 our dooryard and lintel vine to the furthermost 

 limits of northern exploration; birds, perhaps, 

 having discovered the pole long years ago. Now 

 every feather and plume is at its brightest and 

 full development; for must not the fastidious 

 females be sought and won? 



And now the great struggle of the year is at 

 hand, the supreme moment for which thousands 

 of throats have been vibrating with whispered 

 rehearsals of trills and songs, and for which the 

 dangers that threaten the acquisition of bright 

 colours and long, inconvenient plumes and orna- 

 ments have been patiently undergone. Now, if all 

 goes well and his song is clear, if his crest and 

 gorgeous splashes of tints and shades are fresh 

 and shining with the gloss of health, then the 

 feathered lover may hope, indeed, that the little 

 brown mate may look with favour upon dance, 

 song, or antic — and the home is become a reality. 

 In some instances this home is for only one short 

 season, when the two part, probably forever; but 

 in other cases the choice is for life. 



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