282 Bird -Lore 



otter had risen and disappeared. As the last rays of sunlight touched the top of a 

 mighty sycamore that raised its towering head above its fellows, the Herons left 

 their rookery and laboriously winged their way overhead to some distant feeding- 

 ground." 



Brewster was twenty-seven years old when this was written, and, while it 

 rings with the enthusiasm of youth, his love of the out-of-doors increased 

 rather than diminished, though he less often gave utterance to it in print, 

 but, seasoned by years, it appears again in his 'Voices of a New England 

 Marsh.'* How clear-cut, for example, is this picture of the birth of a Massa- 

 chusetts spring, quoted from the above-mentioned article: 



"Through the long New England winter the Fresh Pond marshes are encased in 

 glittering ice or buried deep under a mantle of wind-sculptured snow. Flocks of Snow 

 Buntings occasionally circle over them; Shrikes and Hawks of several kinds perch on 

 the isolated trees to watch for prey; a few Red-winged Blackbirds and Meadowlarks 

 come in at sunset to spend the night; Tree Sparrows frequent the alder thickets; and 

 the extensive beds of cat-tail flags, bent down and matted together by the snow, afTord 

 shelter for numerous Song and Swamp Sparrows as well as for one or two Long-billed 

 Marsh Wrens. On mild, calm mornings the Sparrows may be heard chirping to one 

 another from the different covers and late in February the Song Sparrows sing a little 

 in subdued, broken tones, but during most of the period when winter holds full sway 

 the marshes are as silent as they are desolate. 



"The awakening comes in March when the deeper pools and channels begin to show 

 open water and the snow and ice everywhere are rapidly wasting under the ever increas- 

 ing strength of the sun's rays. The Song Sparrows, Tree Sparrows, Red-winged Black- 

 birds and Rusty Blackbirds that have passed the winter further south arrive in force at 

 this time, and at morning and evening, before the blustering northwest wind has risen 

 and after it has lulled for the night, they fill the marsh with their voices. The Red-wings 

 are scattered about, perched conspicuously on the topmost twigs of isolated shrubs or 

 low trees, their sable forms sharply outlined against the light background of water, snow 

 or sky, each bird flashing his scarlet epaulets in the sunlight for an instant, just as he 

 swells his plumage and half opens his wings to utter his rich, guttural o-ka-lee. The 

 Rustics pass and repass over the open in loose flocks, with undulating flight, or alight 

 in the upper branches of the trees to indulge in one of their rather infrequent outbursts 

 of tinkling medley-singing before descending to feed on the margin of some shallow pool 

 fringed with button bushes or overhung by willows. The Song Sparrows, although less 

 noticeable than the Blackbirds, by reason of their soberer garb and more retiring habits, 

 are also constantly in sight, flitting from bush to bush or perching on some exposed 

 twig to chant their sweet, earnest songs; but the wild, ringing, rapidly delivered notes 

 of the Tree Sparrows issue, as a rule, from the depths of the thickets where the birds 

 keep closely concealed. These voices, with, perhaps, the tender, plaintive warble of 

 some passing Bluebird or at evening, towards the close of the month, the merry peep- 

 ing of Pickering's hylas are the characteristic March sounds of the Fresh Pond marshes 

 as well as of many similar places in eastern Massachusetts. How they soothe and 

 refresh the senses after the long silence of winter, breathing to every one of refined sensi- 

 bilities the very essence of early spring ! To those who have long known and loved them 

 they are inexpressibly grateful and precious, touching the chords of memory more 

 subtly than do any other sounds, recalling past associations — albeit often saddened 

 ones, and filling the heart with renewed courage and hope for the future." 



*BiRD-LoRE, 1902, pp. 43-56 



