As April draws to a close the swallows 

 come again. I believe that every one 

 who has a chimney has at some time seen 

 and handled that queer-looking, sticky 

 shallow nest that belongs to the chimney 

 swallow. It is such a delight to open, 

 the pipe-hole and peep in at the queer- 

 looking little sooty swallows clinging 

 against the side of the grimy chimney. 



The barn swallow is even more inter- 

 esting, at least more graceful, as he 

 wheels and circles about over the pond or 

 meadow. As far as flight is concerned 

 he is unrivaled among our song-birds for 

 freedom and ease of movement. And 

 when the sun falls aslant his steel blue 

 back, few birds can excel him in beauty. 

 That barn is always lonesome which has 

 rib swallows twittering about its eaves or 

 building nests in its comb. During the 

 month of May there is a perfect army 

 of birds arriving by daylight and by 

 starlight moving northward as irresist- 

 ably as if drawn by magnetism. 



The flycatchers are here now at the 

 head of which stands the kingbird. 

 Probably no one has ever given so ex- 

 haustive a study of the kingbird as Mrs. 

 Olive Thome Miller in "Little Brothers 

 of the Air." Close to the kingbird 

 stands the great crested flycatcher. 

 When you have clearly seen and heard 

 him once you v/ill not longer wonder 

 Avhence the name comes. The remaining 

 members of the family I know but little 

 about, though some of them are said to 

 be common in this part of the state. 



When driving along the road if you 

 notice a sparrowy-Iooking bird with 

 brown back and wings and yellow throat, 

 who throws back his head and sings as if 

 his heart were bursting with joy, you 

 may note down the dicksissel. Though 

 a bird of the meadows, he always comes 

 to the roadside and perches on a fence 

 stake to sing for the passer by as if it 

 were a duty he owed society. 



I believe everyone knows the catbird, 

 that slate-colored bird which sings so, 

 only he will stop occasionally to utter 

 a perfect "mewmew." But in spite of 

 that feline leaning he is a hearty song- 

 ster, and one that our shrubbery would 

 sadly miss. 



It is difiicult to tell which is the most 



admirable, the Baltimore or the orchard 

 oriole. The former is the most breezy 

 and has more of the spirit of dash and 

 freedom in his actions and singing". His 

 house is suspended from the outmost 

 twig of an elm tree, and there his chil- 

 dren are rocked by every passing breeze. 

 No wonder a bird reared in such a man- 

 ner is lively. His cousin is quieter and 

 the coloring more subdued ; his coat is 

 black and red where the other is black 

 and orange. He does not sing quite so 

 loudly, but he has a very sweet voice. 



Of that glorious family of singers, the 

 thrushes, but one, the wood thrush, re- 

 mains here. The others all pass farther 

 north before selecting a home. You 

 must seek the woods, for the name aptly 

 describes him, and the wonderful song 

 heard on a calm evening will well repay 

 any exertion to reach his haunts. 



Only one grosbeak, the rose-breasted, 

 ever stays here ; the others pass on. This 

 one is a beautiful musician, being a fair 

 rival of the wood thrush. Bradford Tor- 

 rey even thinks them to be superior to 

 the thrushes. 



About the middle of the month come 

 the cuckoos ; the yellow-billed and the 

 black-billed. The former is more abtmdant 

 though the latter is not scarce. Both of 

 these birds are better known as the 

 "rain-crow," and powers of foretelling 

 storms are imparted to them. 



One of the last birds to come is the 

 bobolink. The very name suggests riot- 

 ous merriment. The bird of sunshine 

 and of summer showers, a person never 

 thinks of him as being anything" else. 

 When the clover is the sweetest and the 

 summer days the pleasantest, then the 

 bobolink is in his happiest moods and 

 bubbles over with joy and gladness. It 

 is a delight to watch the merry minstrel 

 as he frolics about over the meadow or 

 floats down to a swaying timothy stalk. 



There is a peculiarly striking little 

 bird known as the indigo bird, and the 

 name well describes the color, for it is 

 a deep indigo blue. In my mind he is 

 associated with the clearest skies and the 

 hottest suns. Nor will you have to look 

 long to see the exact counter-balance of 

 the indigo bird, the scarlet tanager. No 

 need to describe him. When you see a 



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