WHEN NATURE PUTS HER CHILDREN TO SLEEP 



The summer was yomig; the bloom 

 of spring had faded ; the grass of mead- 

 ow, pasture and roadside was resplen- 

 dent in its luxuriance ; the air had lost 

 every vestige of springtime chillness. 

 All day the sun had been sifting his life- 

 giving rays on field and wood and vege- 

 tation was shooting upward in response 

 ±0 his influence. The juncos and tree- 

 sparrows had bade us good-by and 

 taken their flight to their more congen- 

 ial summer homes in the far north. The 

 iox sparrows had completed their tran- 

 :sient visit and passed on. The white- 

 throat and the white-crown were no more 

 to be found in brush piles or along the 

 hedges. The kinglets no longer tanta- 

 lized one by their restless flitting amid 

 the opening buds. Already the robins 

 and larks and bluebirds had their nests 

 completed and were intent upon the so- 

 ber cares of life. All day long, field and 

 lawn, orchard and wood, were vocal 

 with song. The thrasher and catbird, 

 from the tree tops, were repeating their 

 medley; the jays were more than busy; 

 they were ofliciously active overseeing 

 the building operations of their neigh- 

 bors as well as conducting their own. 

 That is why they construct so clumsy a' 

 nest for themselves ; they are too much 

 intent on the labors of others to waste 

 time on their own structure and are con- 

 tent with a great jumble of sticks loosely 

 thrown together. The woodpeckers, the 

 downy, the hairy, the red-bellied and the 

 golden-winged had completed their exca- 

 vations and were resting from their ar- 

 duous labors, while the red-head had 

 just arrived and was prospecting for a 

 proper dead trunk or branch in which to 

 construct a home. The sparrows, the 

 chipping, the field, the song, the grass- 

 hopper, and the vesper, had taken the 

 places of their cousins who had left us, 

 and all day long were enlivening the air 

 with their simple songs. The warbling 

 virco from its perch in the top of the tree 

 sounded its monotonous notes from morn 



till night, while deep in the shade the 

 golden-crowned thrush, startled with its 

 explosive call of ''teacher, teacher, 

 teacher." The liquid notes of the golden 

 robin and the no less pleasing song of 

 the orchard oriole, enlivened orchard 

 and grove, while the rosebreast added 

 his mellow tones to the orchestra. And 

 the warblers — who would dare to at- 

 tempt to name that bevy of bright col- 

 ors and restlessness that keep the twigs 

 of the trees a-quiver as they dart from 

 branch to branch, only stopping now and 

 then to pour forth their gladness in 

 happy song, so sweet and simple and 

 satisfying that one is easily captivated 

 by the happy family? The goldfinch 

 was there and the summer yellowbird, 

 the redstart with his conspicuous dress 

 and proud ways, the indigo bunting sing- 

 ins: and scolding alternately, the blue- 

 winged and the prairie warbler, while 

 from the dense thicket the Maryland 

 yellowthroat called, "wichety, wichety, 

 wichety," easy to be heard but hard to 

 be seen. Overhead the grackles added 

 their voices to the wood orchestra and 

 the mournful cry of the wood pewee 

 was mingled with the sprightly chicka- 

 dee's song, and the wren for his size out- 

 did them all. When the day was nearly 

 done and the shadows of the woods had 

 crept far out across the pasture, I took 

 my way to the forest to hear and see how 

 nature puts her children to bed. 



All day the wind had blown through 

 the branches of the trees and they had 

 swayed and the leaves had rustled in its 

 freshness, but as the night came on, calm 

 rested on field and forest. As I entered 

 the wood the air was heavy with the de- 

 licious perfume of the crab apple bloom. 

 How exquisite is their fragrance une- 

 qualed by any other bloom save that of 

 the wild grape ! Though the sun was 

 yet above the horizon, within the wood 

 was the dimness of the twilight. The 

 bird orchestra of field and wood was in 

 full chorus, and not a moment was there 



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