AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 157 



hearing them there the year before and no doubt they reared a brood 

 then. They have never been disturbed and I anticipate their return 

 this spring with much pleasure. Bonnie Buckham (aged 15). 



THE WARBLERS, 



With the first May flowers come the Warblers. Most of them tiny 

 sprites in gay plumage, who dart about as if to make the most of their 

 short sojourn with us. Why they are called warblers has always been 

 a puzzle to me, for surely the name is not suggested by the half whisp- 

 ered, lisping notes, or the shrill insect like sounds which constitute the 

 song of this class of birds. We may except the song of the Ovenbird, 

 for the hour when you first hear the liquid melody of the ovenbird as 

 he sings to his mate at twilight will never be forgotten. 



The Summer Yellowbird which spends the summer with us repeats 

 "sweet" seven times over; the Redstart has a like story to tell but tells 

 it in three syllables; look for him among the snowy blossoms of the 

 cherry trees, and note the charming contrast he makes in his vivid 

 orange and black, as he opens and closes his fan-like tail. 



The Maryland Yellowthroat cries "witchery, witchery, witchery" 

 from the tangles all summer long, and the way that he succeeds in con- 

 cealing his nest in the depths of the tangle, seems indeed to savor of 

 witchery. 



These and half a score more of the warblers stay with us, while their 

 companions hie away to our Canadian borders to nest, passing our way 

 again in the Fall, on their return journey, hundreds of miles, to the 

 sunny South, with their increased families. 



Always in motion, with many resemblances in size and color, the 

 warblers are the most difficult of all our bird friends to learn. 



I am sure you will miss a great amount of pleasure if you fail to put 

 some of these dainty folks on your calling list this summer. 



GLEANINGS. 



They'll come again to the apple tree 



Robin and all the rest. 

 When the orchard branches are fair to see 

 In the snow of the blossoms dressed. 

 And the prettiest thing in the world will be 

 The building of the nest. 



— From "The Building of the Nest." 



By Margaret E. Sangster. 



