sapsncker was industriously employed in 

 drilling wells in the body of a maple, 

 where he could later slake his ever pres- 

 ent thirst. From off across the meadows 

 came the voice of a meadow lark an- 

 nouncing it "spring o' the year," and the 

 red-breast called "cheer up," as though 

 I did not know, though the wind was 

 north and chill, and a white frost lay 

 thick on grass and plowed field, it was 

 time for spring, and that soon bright 

 sunshine and warm showers would 

 clothe these naked fields and woods in 

 summer garb. Overhead like shadows 

 the crows were wending their way to 

 their feeding ground in the low-lying 

 lands and calling to each other as they 

 passed. 



A red-tailed hawk with broad expanse 

 of wing, without an apparent quiver of 

 pinion, sailed slowly above, while its 

 head turned in watchfulness from side to 

 side. It soon settled on the topmost 



bough of a towering oak and surveyed all 

 beneath, and finding no suspicious signs 

 it took its place on its bulky nest in the 

 forks of an oak, but with neck up- 

 stretched and restless turn of its head it 

 continued to scrutinize all surrounding 

 objects, while its mate described great 

 circles overhead, ever drawing nearer, 

 till satisfied that all was safe at home, it 

 took its flight and soon was lost to sight. 

 From out the thick branches of a pros- 

 trate tree a hermit thrush silently flitted 

 away to a safe distance and alighted on 

 a low branch, silent and motionless till 

 again disturbed, when like a shadow, 

 flying low, it disappeared amid the bushes. 

 At the edge of the wood the fox sparrows 

 were flitting about or were busy scratch- 

 ing among the dead leaves. Truly there 

 was bird life manifest that morning, and 

 the omen at the beginning of this half- 

 mile stroll was happily verified. 



L. O. Mosher. 



PAINTED INDIGO-BIRD. 



When airs are pulsing 'mid summer's heat, 

 And cattle have sought some cool retreat ; 

 When farmer-man lies beneath the shade 

 And silence rests o'er hill and glade ; 

 Then out from the tip of the tallest tree 

 A song bursts forth, in wildest glee. 

 He sings of the sun, of life begun, 

 And how he is glad his nest is done ; 

 He weaves from the heat 

 This melody sweet 



And sings it till none his song can beat. 

 Dark blue-bird, on the dark, tall tree, 

 Singing for you and singing for. me, 

 Singing a musical fantasy ! 

 Oh, friends of mine, have you never heard 

 The rapturous songs of the Indigo-bird? 



Mrs. A. E. Goetting. 



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