180 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



arise; fields become covered with waving grass 

 ami grain; a neglected patch of burnt forest be- 

 comes a tangle of blackberry and raspberry; an 

 orchard is set out. 



When the migrating birds return, they are at- 

 tracted to this new scene. The decaying wood of 

 fallen trees is a paradise for ants, flies, and bee- 

 tles; offering to swallows, creepers, and flycatch- 

 ers feasts of abundance never dreamed of in the 

 primitive forests. Straightway, what must have 

 been a cave swallow becomes a barn swallow ; the 

 haunter of rock ledges changes to an eave swal- 

 low; the nest in the niche of the cliff is deserted 

 and phce.be becomes a bridgebird; cedarbirds are 

 renamed cherrybirds, and catbirds and other low- 

 nesting species find the blackberry patch safer 

 than the sweetbrier vine in the deep woods. The 

 swift leaves the lightning-struck hollow tree 

 where owl may harry or snake intrude, for the 

 chimney flue — sooty but impregnable. 



When the great herds of ruminants disappear 

 from the western prairies, the buffalo birds with- 

 out hesitation become cowbirds, and when the 

 plough turns up the never-ending store of grubs 

 and worms the birds lose all fear and follow at 

 the very heels of the plough-boy: grackles, vesper 

 sparrows, and larks in the east, and flocks of gulls 

 farther to the westward. 



The crow surpasses all in the keen wit which it 

 pits against human invasion and enmity. The 



