AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 107 



ness of the budding alders. Beneath the oaks are clustering anemones, 

 and just beyond, at the edge of an opening, a wild cherry tree is feath- 

 ering into delicate white bloom. 



Here and there tiny maple trees are springing up in groups, exquisite 

 reproductions in miniature of their stately parents. Note their soft, 

 tender leaves of greenish brown, their coral red stems and their alert 

 aspiring air. Who could have the heart to set his foot on such a brisk, 

 active little plant; to meddle with an individuality so pronounced, an 

 energy so conscious of its own ideal? 



Above us there are numbers of wee creatures, hopping and flying 

 through the branches, some noiseless, some voicing their joy in utter 

 disregard of our presence; but all busy and intent upon their work or 

 their pleasures, of a thumb or hand's bigness only, but how full of de- 

 licious emotions, love and happiness and hope and aspiration and life- 

 joy all throbbing within the wee feather balls. 



THE BIRDS OF A CITY HAUNT, 



(continued from march.) 



The Blue Jay persists in carrying off in toto all the suet that I 

 put out for the Winter Friends. The Crow and the Jay join 

 forces to harass the Owl, and are very sure indications of the presence 

 of the Sparrow Hawk or Sharp-shinned Hawk which makes the Haunt 

 frequent visits. In this way alone are the Crow and Jay of 

 service to the smaller birds. 



The abundance of large trees on which are many dead limbs 

 makes the Haunt the abode of a goodly number of Flickers. 

 The Flicker is an extraordinary bird in many ways. His one 

 and twenty-four names are in most cases well deserved, so varied 

 are his accomplishments. Many people in passing through the 

 Haunt ask me the name of some bird they have seen, but I think 

 I am most frequently asked about the Flicker. Some speak of 

 his bounding flight ; some of his yellow wing-lining ; some obser- 

 vant ones of his speckled back and breast with black crescent, 

 and some, I think the majority, mention the white rump. Through- 

 out the winter I have watched the Flickers working on the trees 

 or hopping awkwardly over the ground, their "kee yow" note is 

 a familiar sound of the season. The Flicker is a good example 

 of nature's kindness in making the tool fit the task, whereas the 

 other woodpeckers familiar to us are mostly black and white, and 

 admirably inconspicuous iu the branches, the Flicker, having devel- 

 oped, perhaps by accident, a fondness for ants and other food 

 obtainable on the ground, has a brown speckled coat ; yet he 



