AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY 185 



WITH THE BIRDS AT DAWN. 



The glorious month of May is again with us; the month of beautiful 

 awakening; of blossoms, birds and song; the month of inspiration and 

 rejoicing. Only those who have the opportunity to go and see for 

 themselves can fully realize and appreciate the scenes and sounds 

 which one cannot express or describe. 



An hour with the birds at dawn; how much it means at this season of 

 the year, when all is activity and bustle among Nature's creatures. Out 

 with the rise of the sun, when nature is donning her gayest robes of the 

 year, and when the dew of Heaven is glittering like thousands of 

 precious gems. At no time can one better enjoy an hour with the birds; 

 just fresh from their night's rest, they all break forth in a volume of 

 combined and harmonious song that is beyond description; it is well 

 worth going miles to hear, yet it is free to all. 



The observations recorded in this article cover a series of walks tak- 

 en by the writer in the early morning during the first two weeks of 

 May. A few minutes stroll brings one within the borders of a rich 

 meadow; and what a landscape! Stretching away in the distance is a 

 line of rolling hills, some of them crowned with apple orchards in their 

 prime of bloom; on another side one could see the delicate tints and 

 harmonious blending of the young leaves on the forest trees, while un- 

 der your feet was a soft carpet of fresh, young meadow grass, profuse- 

 ly sprinkled on every hand with the pale blue and rich purple of thous- 

 ands of violets, while here and there the golden chalice of an early but- 

 tercup was nodding in the breeze. 



Passing along the edge of a grove, I observed a number of Towhees. 

 Some were busily engaged in scratching among the dead leaves, now 

 and again uttering their pleasant "Chewink, Chewink;" others would 

 mount the tall trees aud indulge in a more elaborate song. They were 

 very tame and I had an excellent opportunity of observing them. I al- 

 so heard the shrill whistle of the Great-crested Flycatcher and the harsh 

 cry of a Blue Jay. While passing some brush piles in this grove, I 

 counted five White-throated Sparrows; Song Sparrows were also abund- 

 ant and added their sweet notes to the general concert. A pair of 

 Chipping Sparrows were taking a drink from a little brook and they 

 raised their tiny heads as if in thankfulness that they had such clear, 

 sparkling water with which to allay their thirst. The Field Sparrows 

 too, appreciating the beauty of these mornings and the happy life 

 around them, sang out "Oh see-see-see," with a pretty trill to the last 

 of each syllable. 



Coming to a swampy region, I found the Red-wing Black Birds numer- 

 ous, and they continued to call "Kon-ker-ee" from tussocks and sway- 



