BIRDS OF MINNESOTA. Bar 
‘During the winter they are dispersed over the southern 
states, beyond which, however, they do not appear to pass, as 
I have found no record. In March they again become plenti- 
ful in the middle states, and, having already taken up their 
line of migration toward their homes in the north, their com- 
ing is with songs of gladness and all the busy stir of the 
opening season. 
“They are not all off until April, and during the sunny days 
that precede their departure the males are fond of mounting 
the little bushes or even the trees, to warble a few exquisitely 
sweet notes, the overture of the joyous music which, later in 
the year, enlivens the northern solitudes, whither the birds 
resort to nest. So musical is the Fox Sparrow indeed, that 
even in autumn, when the transient glow and fervor of tho 
nuptial period has subsided and commonplace occupations 
alone engage him, he forgets the dull season at times and 
lisps fugitive strains of sweet memories awakened by the 
warmth and glamour of the Indian summer. But this is a 
mere fragment—the shadows of a song stealing across the 
mind, not the song itself, which is only heard in perfection 
when the bird’s life is quickened in the sunny, showery April, 
and he leaves us with cheery ‘‘good-bye,” promising to come 
again. What one of our fringilline birds is so entirely pleas- 
ing as this, my favorite? Strong, shapely, vivacious, yet 
gentle, silver-tongued; clad most tastefully in the richest of 
warm browns, and that nothing may be wanting to single 
him out from among his humble relations. A _ highbred, 
exclusive, retiring bird. We do not find him mix- 
ing indiscriminately with the throng of sparrows that 
accompany him in his journeys and spend the winter with 
him. With a few select associates of his own kind, perhaps 
only two or three families that were reared together, he 
chooses his own retreat and holds it against intrusion. In some 
little glade, hedged about with almost impenetrable briers, 
you will come upon him and his friends nestling among the 
withered leaves on the ground, gently calling to each other in 
the assurance of safety. On your unwelcome appearance they 
will hurriedly take flight together, throwing themselves into 
the thickest shrubbery. You will find such company again in 
the ravines overgrown with smilax and brambles that lead 
down to the brook; and as you pass along neglected fences, 
fringed with tall. rank weeds, you may surprise the birds out 
a 
