68 DANVIS FARM LIFE 



A thousand banished birds have come to their 

 own again. The creak and twitter of the well-be- 

 loved swallows echo through the half-empty barn. 

 Robins and phoebes have built their nests; the 

 advance guard of bobolinks are rollicking in the 

 meadows where the meadowlark pertly walks, 

 his conspicuous yellow and black breast belying 

 his long-drawn "can't-see-me." Orioles flash 

 among the elm branches where they are weaving 

 their pensile nests. The purple linnet showers his 

 song from the tree-top, and far and clear from the 

 upland pasture comes the wailing cry of the plover. 

 Chickadee has gone to make his summer home in 

 woods whose purple gray is sprinkled now with 

 golden green, and where bath-flowers are bloom- 

 ing and tender shoots are pushing up through the 

 matted leaves of last year. 



The hickory has given the sign for corn-plant- 

 ing, for its leaves are as large as a squirrel's ear 

 (some say, a squirrel's foot). This important labor 

 having been performed, the grotesque scarecrow 

 is set at his post, or glittering tins, or twine fes- 

 tooned from stake to stake, do duty in his stead. 



Now there comes a little lull in work betwixt 

 planting and hoeing during which boys and hired 

 men assert their right, established by ancient 

 usage, to take a day to go a-fishing. Those whose 

 country is blessed with such streams of liquid 

 crystal steal with careful steps along some trout- 



