It is difficult to understand why this 

 bird should be called the Prairie Warb- 

 ler, unless it is in order to distinguish 

 it from those species that frequent less 

 open places. A much more appropriate 

 name is the Chestnut-backed Yellow 

 Warbler. Though it is found in open 



places, this little bird would easily elude 

 observation were it not for its peculiar 

 notes, which Mr. Chapman describes as 

 "a series of six or seven quickly repeat- 

 ed zees, the next to the last one the high- 

 est." 



APRIL BIRDS AND FLOWERS OF THE MISSISSIPPI GULF 



COAST, 



Fickle April, with its sullen showers 

 and teasing, wayward moods, its alter- 

 nate days of warm sunshine and chilling 

 rain, still leaves us who live north of the 

 fortieth parallel in doubt whether sum- 

 mer really intends to come or not. Not 

 so on the gulf coast; langorous breezes 

 incline one to take life easy, the sun 

 high overhead has the true June fervor, 

 and, if further evidence is needed to con- 

 vince us, ripening strawberries and 

 blooming roses tell us that summer is 

 here. Gardens filled with huge, flam- 

 ing amaryllis, fragrant calycanthus and 

 a thousand and one shrubs strange to the 

 northern eye, greet us in every yard. In 

 front of the houses and along the streets, 

 their purple fragrance welcoming every 

 newcomer, stand the China trees, the 

 haunt of busy bees and their indefatiga- 

 ble pursuer the kingbird, or bee martin. 



In the lowlands a short distance back 

 from the beach, the azaleas (Azalea nudi- 

 flora) are just dropping the last of their 

 pink bloom, a bouquet thrown at the feet 

 of all-conquering summer. Here and 

 there in these jungles of yupon, bay, but- 

 tonwood, etc., appears a shrub clad in a 

 filmy white mist. If this be the season 

 for weddings, it must be that this is the 

 bride that greets our eyes. A delicately 

 beautiful bride she is, with arms that 

 toss in the slightest breeze and now and 

 then coyly shove aside the cloudy veil to 

 take a farewell glimpse at llic world she 

 leaves. 



The natives do not take this view of 



this shrub (Chionanthus virginicus). 

 They have dubbed it "grand-daddy-gray- 

 beard." Usually popular names have 

 much to justify them, but in the instance 

 just mentioned, and that of the brilliant 

 red flower which gazes at us from the 

 underbrush, they are suggestive of Afri- 

 can superstition rather than Saxon senti- 

 ment. The melancholy local fancy sees 

 in these flaming orbs only the power of 

 evil, hence the name ''Devil's eye." If 

 I could be assured that the devil's eye is 

 really as beautiful and kind in its ex- 

 pression as its floral representative I 

 would be willing, like Emerson, to call 

 its possessor "the dear old devil." 



Let us go back to the beach and stroll 

 along the shell road, which parallels the 

 shore all the way from Gulfport to Bi- 

 loxi. Perhaps the glare of the white 

 road is not pleasant to. the eyes, but the 

 deep green of live oak and long leafed 

 pine is restful, the mingled fragrance of 

 the salt breeze of the gulf, the resiny 

 odor of the pine and the blossoming wis- 

 taria charm the senses and lull us into 

 rapturous content. Only a few of the 

 trees and shrubs which border the high- 

 way are of the kinds familiar to observ- 

 ers in Ohio and Illinois. Now and then 

 a water oak or a sweet gum appears ; 

 but otherwise in the cypress, pine or 

 live oak of the larger growth, or in the 

 palmetto, Spanish dagger and rattan 

 vine of the undergrowth, the eye looks 

 in vain for old acquaintances. 



The live oak certainlv has individu- 



214 



