ball of fire gleaming through the green 

 leaves you know that the scarlet tanager 

 has arrived. Perhaps you may overlook 

 the plainly dressed mates of these bril- 

 liantly colored birds, the bobolink, the 

 indigo bird and the scarlet tanager, but 

 you may rest assured these brave young 

 gallants do not. 



Now, welcome to the vireos, that mod- 

 est family of small, olive-green birds that 

 frequent trees and sing so steadily ; espe- 

 cially the red-eyed vireo, for whom the 

 weather never becomes too hot or dry. 

 Methodically he chirps away, indifferent 

 to the quivering heat. The warbling 

 vireo probably has the most musical 

 voice, though I am not very well ac- 

 quainted with other members of the 

 family. 



In early May, perhaps before April 

 has gone, comes the whip-poor-will. He 

 is rather shy, and I studied birds a long 

 time before I was certain of him. But 

 I think everyone who has lived in the 

 country or even visited there in summer 

 knows him by his voice. IMaybe some 

 day when you are walking in the woods 

 and see a gray protuberance on a rail or 

 fallen log. if you will go up to it you will 

 be surprised to see it fly silently and 

 gracefully away. Then watch, and if it 

 should, notice the fine, short beak and 

 you may know you are looking at the 

 whip-poor-will. 



Before all these named have arrived 

 some of the warblers will be here. I 

 have intentionally left them till near the 

 last, that I might speak of them al'l to- 

 gether. They are very difficult to iden- 

 tify, for there are so many of them and 

 vary both as to sex and age. Some 

 of the more common are the golden- 

 crowned thrush, the redstart, blue-gray 

 gnatcatcher, Maryland yellow-throat, 

 black and white creeping warbler, mag- 

 nolia warbler and Blackburnian warl^ler. 

 Many others have been chronicled by 

 naturalists of this latitude, but these are 

 the ones of which I am most certain. The 

 redstart, black and white creeping war- 

 bler, blue-gray gnatcatcher and Mary- 

 land yellow-throat are quite common 



about here, especially the latter. "Whe- 

 che-tee, whe-che-tee, whe-che-tee" comes 

 from the bushes that line our ditch-bank 

 or some pond, and soon I catch sight of 

 a small olive-green bird with a yellow 

 breast hopping from twig to twig, ap- 

 parently oblivious to me or anything else 

 except what immediately concerns him. 

 The blue-gray gnatcatcher is more nerv- 

 ous and shows the restless warbler habit 

 of flitting from twig to twig. His name 

 will describe his color. Then there is the 

 redstart, a mixture of red and black, 

 which seems to have a mania for tum- 

 bling about in the air, though he does 

 manage to find time to build a home and 

 rear a family. 



The last to arrive generally is the 

 ruby-tJTroated hummingbird. When the 

 honeysuckle blooms rest assured that the 

 ruby-throat will be here soon. Or, if you 

 do not have the honeysuckle, a trumpet 

 flower will do, some kind of a blossom 

 with a long, deep corolla. By the time 

 he comes migration will be over. In 

 this article I have made no mention of 

 the water or game birds. Of the former 

 I know very little, as I have no chance 

 of obseiwing, there being no river or lake 

 for some distance. Of the latter but verv 

 few migrate through our neighborhood 

 that I know about, the only ones being 

 the woodcock, besides wild ducks and 

 geese. 



The foregoing list is not exhaustive 

 by any means, but they are the more 

 prominent birds whose habits and dispo- 

 sition I have been observing for the past 

 few years. 



It is with the same pleasure that I 



record the first migrant for 1902 and 



watch the oncoming of the great army 



that will so soon -be here. To anyone 



who has a love of nature implanted in 



his breast, the making of a few notes on 



birds and flowers will be a pleasure that 



grows with him as the years pass and his 



knowledge increases. Especially if he 



can say "yes" to Emerson's query : 



"Hast thou named all birds vvithout a gun, 

 Loved the wild-rose and left it on its stalk?" 



Warren T. Higgins. 



164 



