deal of noisy work was going on close 

 by, as the street was being widened 

 and newly paved, but these "tiny 

 scraps of valor," as Emerson calls his 

 friends, the chickadees, showed no 

 timidity or distrust. The colors of the 

 different birds varied widely. One 

 could hardly believe that the adult 

 male Cape May with his striking white 

 on rich olive above, and his tiger-like 

 streaks of glossy black on shining yel- 

 low below, his dark cap and chestnut- 

 red ear-patches, belonged to the same 

 family as the immature female. She 

 is plain grayish olive above, and has a 

 streaked grayish breast, as sober as a 

 Quaker, save for her yellow rump. The 

 Cape May, the prairie, the myrtle and 

 the magnolia warblers are the four 

 yellow-rumped species — a most con- 

 venient mark of distinction. 



In character our little visitor showed 

 energy and courage, usually driving off 

 any new-comer, even of his own family, 

 from his feeding-ground. He journeys 

 in mixed crowds, but prefers a table to 

 himself. He even won respect from 

 English sparrows by his pugnacious 

 traits. They generally let him alone, 

 though they attacked the other strang- 

 ers unmercifully. He explored his 

 tree thoroughly, and with great agility, 

 often spending hours in traveling from 

 bough to bough, twig to twig, up and 

 down our maple, and especially exam- 

 ining the underside of all the leaves 

 within reach. Sometimes on tiptoe he 

 stretched his pretty head to its farthest 

 extent to investigate a dangling leaf 

 above him; sometimes he hung, head 



downward, to clean the eggs and larvae 

 from a leaf below. I have seen him 

 dextrously somersault to a lower bough, 

 or hold on to a slender twig, scolding 

 and pecking alternately, as the wind- 

 tossed him to and fro. Occasionally 

 he sang a little song, rather thin and 

 monotonous, but not unpleasing. It 

 has been compared to the song of the 

 Nashville warbler, and also to that of 

 the black and white creeper. 



The cause of his long stay was no 

 doubt the abundance of msects during 

 our warm fall. Swarms of gauzy- 

 winged insects were seen everywhere, 

 wheeling in airy circles in the sun, and 

 sometimes covering the wraps and hats 

 of pedestrians. There were crowds of 

 birds in our parks. One sunny after- 

 noon I watched with interest the like- 

 ness between a wood pewee, catching 

 insects in the air, and a flock of Cape 

 May warblers' engaged in the same 

 pursuit. But there was a difference; 

 the warbler darted straight out from 

 his magnolia tree, caught his gnat and 

 returned, whether to the same bough 

 I could not see for the leaves were so 

 thick, but probably only near by. The 

 true flycatcher fluttered in an aerial 

 circle, returning to precisely the 'same 

 perch after capturing his insect. 



The tiny fringed and cleft tongues 

 seemed useless in this occupation, but 

 like some parts of the human body for 

 which we have not yet ascertained the 

 present use, they may be invaluable as 

 records of past history under different 

 conditions from those of to-day. 



"Look at Nature. She never wearies 

 of saying over her floral pater noster. 

 In the crevices of Cyclopean walls — 

 on the mounds that bury huge cities — 

 in the dust where men lie, dust also — 

 still that sweet prayer and benediction. 

 The 'Amen!' of Nature is always a 

 flower." — Autocrat. 



The gorse is yellow on the heath. 

 The banks with speedwell flowers 

 are gay. 

 The oaks are budding; and beneath 

 The hawthorn soon will bear the 

 wreath, 

 The silver wreath of May. 



— Charlotte Smith. 



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