City Birds 135 



I have seen three times in April, six times in May, once in June, twice in July, 

 once in August, and repeatedly in September, so that he seems to be a reason- 

 ably close neighbor. 



Of the migrating birds whose nesting-site lies north of Georgia there have 

 come to my city woods twenty-five kinds. Of the Warblers, the Myrtle, the 

 Yellow, the Worm-eating, the Black-poll, the Maryland Yellow-Throat, the 

 Cape May, the Chestnut-sided, the Canada, the Magnolia, the Black-throated- 

 blue, the Blackburnian, the Palm, the Tennessee, and, in the fall migration, 

 the Ovenbird, making a total of twenty-four Warblers, counting the Hooded 

 Warbler that nested here. And of other migrating birds, aside from Warblers, 

 there have visited me the Goldfinch, the Brown Creeper, the Bronzed Grackle, 

 the Song and Vesper Sparrows, the Junco, the Meadow Lark, the Rose-breasted 

 Grosbeak, the Indigo Bunting, the Pine Siskin, and, perhaps most dramatically, 

 the Cedar Waxwing. 



At the rear of my woods is a persimmon tree standing alone, several feet 

 from any other tree. This has seemed the favorite goal of migrating Wax- 

 wings. I counted eighty-one in the first flock that I saw, looking like gilded 

 birds in the strong morning sunlight, their musical twitter faintly filling the 

 air, while they sat quietly enough for me to count them three times before they 

 rose suddenly, as one bird, into the air, and .wheeled, in a small compact body, 

 away toward the north. After this I saw eleven flocks in the same tree and in 

 the shrubbery nearby during February and March and the first half of April. 

 Had they chosen my persimmon tree as an assembling-place for Georgia- 

 wintering Waxwings, or were they resting during migration from a more 

 southerly point, attracted by the heavy crop of privet berries all about them? 

 Probably the latter, for with the exception of one flock, they were here only 

 a few hours each time. 



Since I have begim to write this account of my city birds, a band of negroes 

 has come into my woods and "cleared them up." With axe and brush-fire 

 they have spoiled and civilized this wild, neglected place. I can now nod to 

 my neighbor across the scarred and empty space. I hope she does not notice 

 the lack of enthusiasm in my greeting. Gone are Thrush Thicket, Cardinal 

 Cover and Catbird Glade! Next season I shall have to see how many birds 

 will make me formal calls in the high old oaks. 



