Photo by Fra: 



A r.iRP IX THE iiAxii 



see a bird in every l)usli and hnd tlie 

 liea\ens their pathway. One moment we 

 may a(hiiire their beauty of pUimao'e. the 

 next marvel at the ease and grace witli 

 which they dash by us or circle high 

 overhead. 



But birds will appeal to us most 

 strongly through their songs. When 

 your ears are attiuied to the music of 

 birds, your world will be transformed, 

 lairds' songs are the most eloquent of 

 Nature's voices : the gay carol of the 

 grosbeak in the morning ; the dreamy 

 midday call of the pcwee ; the vesper 

 h}mn of the thrush: the clanging of 

 geese in the springtime ; the farewell of 

 the bluebird in the fall — how clearly each 

 one expresses the sentiment of the hour 

 or season I 



FKATIIKKKn COMRADlCS 



Having learned a bird's language, you 

 experience an increased feeling of com- 

 radeship with it. You may even share 

 its emotions as you learn the significance 

 of its notes. Xo one can listen to the 

 song of the mocking-bird without being 

 in some way affected : but in how many 

 hearts does the tink of the night-flying 

 bobolink find a response? I never hear 

 it without wishing the brave little trav- 

 eler gods])eed on his long journey. 



As time passes you will find that the 

 songs of birds bring a constantly increa.s- 

 ing pleasure. This is the result of asso- 



ciation. The places and i)citple that make 

 oiu' worhl are every changing; the pres- 

 ent sli])s froiu us with growing rapidity; 

 but the birds are ever with us. 



The robin singing so cheerily outside 

 my window sings not for himself alone, 

 but for hundreds of robins I have known 

 at other times and places. His song re- 

 calls a March evening, wanu with the 

 promise of sjjring; May mornings, when 

 all the world seemed to ring with the 

 voices of birds ; June days, when cherries 

 were ripening; the winter sunlit fc^rests 

 of Florida and even the snow-cai)pe(l 

 summit of glorious Popocatei)etl. .\nd 

 so it is with other birds. We may. it is 

 true, have known them for years ; but 

 thev have not changed, and their famil- 

 iar notes and a])])earance encourage the 

 l)leasant self-delusion that we, too. are 

 the same. 



The slender saplings of earlier years 

 now give wide-spreading shade ; the 

 scrubbv ])asture lot has become a dense 

 woodland. P>oyhood's friends are boys 

 no longer, and there has even appeared 

 another generatioti of boys whose i)res- 

 ence is discouraging proof that for us 

 vouth has ])ast. Then some May morn- 

 ing we hear the wood-thrush sing. Has 

 he. too. changed? Xot one note: and as 

 his silverv voice rings through the woods, 

 we are young again. Xo fountain of 

 youth could be more potent. .\ hundrcfl 

 incidents of the long ago l)ecoiue as real 



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