BIRD NOTES FROM NEW YORK. 



There are signs of spring to the watch- 

 ful eye through every month of winter. 

 The willows never lose their tints of 

 life entirely, and I have known the 

 catkins to be in blossom from November 

 to March, when they are generally first 

 expected, but of all the assurances of life 

 amid the apparent herds of death, none 

 is so true as the song of the winter birds. 



Putting the boldest first, there is the 

 blue-jay, his bright feathers seeming to 

 uplift the sky above and his loud cry 

 cutting through the clear air. One for- 

 gets the not always praiseworthy behav- 

 ior of this bird in gratitude for the flash 

 of color through the trees. Then there 

 are the crows, the juncos, the woodpeck- 

 ers, the chickadees and the rarer species 

 of pine warblers, waxwings and snow 

 buntings. 



The flicker is a winter bird, but I have 

 always associated him with the spring 

 after reading Thoreau's description of 

 him as the alarm clock of nature. "Up, 

 up, up, up, up," he cries to awake the 

 outdoor world. 



To the majority of people, however, 

 the first note of spring is, and always 

 will be, the call of the bluebird. His voice 

 touches the heart, as well as the ear, and 

 he remains the herald of the coming year. 



Mr. Burroughs writes of the excite- 

 ment and delight which greet the news 

 "The robins are here." Indeed it is one 

 of the events of our lives. The great 

 newspapers opening their columns to the 

 news of the world announce some morn- 

 ing that "robins have been seen in Cen- 

 tral Park," and their no less aggressive 

 country neighbors declare the same good 

 tidings of a more wild and distant land- 

 scape. 



Birds, like men, have their leaders, 

 but if the blackbirds, the song-sparrows, 

 the purple finches, the phoebes and pe- 

 wees do not cause such a stir in birddom 

 they certainly have each an individual 

 welcome. One of these, especially, the 

 song-sparrow, holds a tender spot in our 

 hearts. Far back in the February snows 



his song rang out sweet and clear, as it 

 would in summer days, and it is still un- 

 changed when the woods, almost bare, 

 are again preparing for winter. 



These three, the bluebird, the song- 

 sparrow and the robins (somehow it is 

 not natural to speak of these sociable 

 birds in the singular number), arriving 

 at about the same time, seem, each in his 

 own bird temperament, to reflect a trail 

 of the approaching season of spring. 



The bluebird brings us its elusive 

 quality, the ephemeral brightness which 

 fills the earth, the half-pensive, poetic 

 faculty. To the song-sparrow belong 

 the child-like happiness of spring, the 

 glad ringing melody, and the robin par- 

 takes of the restless, cheerful element, 

 househunting, singing, everflowing with 

 the joy of the moment. 



After these first arrivals the coming 

 of the birds is a daily, almost hourly, 

 event. 



In the April days the air is full of 

 slender threads of melody, which, as the 

 weeks go by, swell with harmony and 

 rapture, until the bird chorus reaches its 

 height the middle of May. The last half 

 of May and the first two weeks of June 

 correspond to the opera season between 

 Christmas and Easter. The music almost 

 overwhelms one as the myriad voices in 

 woods, fields and along the roadside, in 

 the garden and around the house, fill the 

 days with beauty of sound. 



Here, again, another trio make them- 

 selves known above a ■ host of others — 

 the oriole, the catbird and the thrush. 



The first, with his flaming colors, a 

 bright note among the trees, visible, bear- 

 able from all around. The second bear- 

 able because he cannot help it (and who 

 wishes he could?) and visible because he 

 will not help it, and the third, one always 

 wishes to speak of him with hushed 

 voice, the thrush, head of the throng of 

 songsters, making his music "indefinitely 

 far or near, a little more distant and un- 

 seen as great poets are." 



Following close to those leading, dom- 



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