116 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



Usually our earliest arrival is tlie Bluebird. Indeed, none seems to be 

 earlier than he. He often comes as early as the latter part of February or 

 the first week of JMareh, before the snow is fairly off the ground, and he is 

 likely to be caught by the rude spring winds or in a belated blizzard; yet he 

 seems not to care, for on his arrival he will warble his cheering well-known 

 notes. Almost on time with the Bluebird, or only a few days later, comes 

 the Song Sparrow, which, with the Bluebird, forms one of the two earliest 

 and most enduring of songsters. The latter on his arrival, flits through the 

 orchard, while the former more restlessly frequents the barnyard, and 

 mingles with its Sparrow cousins. 



A week later proclaims the arrival of that harbinger of spring, the Robin, 

 which begins to give forth its chirping notes from the tops of our trees. On 

 fine days in March, Downy will awake one morning to hear the voice of his 

 cousin, the Flicker, as he sits on some dry resonant limb and drums away until 

 a mate responds. 



The sombre-clad Phoebe sits on some bridge pier, barn roof, or near last 

 year's nest, calling to some mate, which he thinks may be near, yet she may 

 be miles away; but in a few days she happily finds her lover seated by the 

 bridge, and the reunion makes their hearts overflow with joy. Swallows fly 

 above our barns, twittering and chattering all the while, and performing va- 

 rious aerial arcs, angles and circles. Flocks of Crow Blackbirds haunt our 

 evergreens, wheezing and creaking away, as if discussing over suitable sites 

 for their homes. Numerous flocks of Wild Ducks and Geese, high overhead, 

 are moving swiftly to their natal regions in the far north. 



SOME LATER ARRIVALS. 



No doubt, for certain reasons of their own, some birds will not migrate 

 northward in the early spring, but rather wait until the warm days of April 

 and early May. In this season comes the chattering, ever inquisitive House 

 Wren, which soon on its arrival, begins to investigate every nook and corner 

 in search of some hole in a wall, tree, bird-box or other sheltered place. It 

 will often dispute with the Sparrow over the possession of some coveted 

 site, until at last victory crowns its efl"orts, then from its tiny throat it pours 

 a song of triumph. 



The Baltimore Oriole, carelessly swinging on some swajang limb, sings his 

 mournful cadence time and again, while his mate hustles about upon the same 

 tree, looking for a convenient nesting site. The Flycatchers arrive when the 

 insects, their favorite food, are flying about in the sunshine, and flitting from 

 limb to limb, they catch them with great dexterity. 



The Red-winged Blackbirds flash patches of bright flame amidst the dark 

 coloring of their plumage in our swamps, while the more sombre Marsh 

 Wren, not near as noisy as her cousin, Jenny, haunts the same vicinity. The 

 Thrushes and Catbirds are seen again in our woods and in a short time are 

 courting their mates with the most musical of notes. The Indigo Bunting sits 

 on some high limb and tunes forth his song of sadness. 



With the coming of the Cedar Waxwings, which generally arrive late in the 

 season, the migrations are about ended. Everywhere is activity, partners are 

 being rapidly but carefully chosen, homes are made, and the bird's chief 

 aim of life begins. 



