MANY people seem to imagine that they are 

 debarred from opportunity for interesting 

 experiences afield with the birds because 

 they live in town or city, and not in a wild natural 

 paradise. Perhaps it may help to reassure them if 

 I tell about some of my good times during the spring 

 and early summer of 1909, within easy reach of my 

 home in the suburbs of New Haven, Connecticut. It 

 simply goes to show that no one need feel shut off 

 from enjoyment of the wild birds by reason of lo- 

 cality. 



On May 29, a beautiful bright day, right after 

 breakfast I took a trolley car, and a short ride 

 brought me near the edge of open country, from 

 which point I soon was in a large tract of pasture- 

 land and scrub growth, with swamp and woods near- 

 by. There was a fine chorus of bird-songs, and I 

 soon had noted a considerable number of species and 

 had found nests of the catbird, robin, and song and 

 field sparrows. The song which made the most im- 

 pression on me was the " grand opera " performance 

 of a white-eyed vireo in a thicket close by the roadside. 

 I proceeded to investigate, and had hardly entered the 



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