﻿BIRD 
  MIGRATION 
  

  

  Of 
  all 
  seasons, 
  to 
  a 
  bird 
  lover, 
  the 
  time 
  of 
  spring 
  migration, 
  perhaps, 
  

   brings 
  the 
  deepest 
  thrills 
  of 
  pleasure. 
  There 
  is 
  a 
  peculiar 
  delight 
  in 
  hear- 
  

   ingr 
  the 
  first 
  warble 
  of 
  the 
  Bluebird 
  as 
  he 
  descends 
  from 
  his 
  homeward 
  

   flight 
  to 
  the 
  old 
  familiar 
  pear 
  tree, 
  or 
  is 
  first 
  seen 
  down 
  the 
  lane 
  and 
  by 
  

   the 
  pasture, 
  "shifting 
  his 
  light 
  load 
  of 
  song 
  from 
  post 
  to 
  post 
  along 
  the 
  

   cheerless 
  fence." 
  The 
  first 
  cheer)" 
  call 
  of 
  the 
  Robin 
  from 
  the 
  tree 
  top 
  by 
  

   the 
  house, 
  awakens 
  the 
  blood 
  to 
  a 
  new 
  lease 
  of 
  life, 
  and 
  the 
  plaintive 
  lisp 
  

   of 
  the 
  Meadowlark, 
  the 
  first 
  congaree 
  from 
  the 
  alder 
  tops, 
  and 
  even 
  the 
  

   first 
  metallic 
  squeak 
  of 
  the 
  Grackle 
  from 
  the 
  spruce 
  tree 
  stirs 
  at 
  the 
  roots 
  

   of 
  spring 
  awakening. 
  One 
  after 
  another 
  the 
  native 
  birds 
  appear, 
  apparently 
  

   overflowing 
  with 
  delight 
  to 
  reach 
  their 
  homes 
  again. 
  The 
  copses 
  and 
  

   meadows 
  ring 
  with 
  song. 
  Man}' 
  strange 
  and 
  beautiful 
  birds 
  are 
  here 
  also 
  

   for 
  a 
  brief 
  stay. 
  The 
  woods 
  become 
  alive 
  with 
  juncos, 
  white-throats 
  and 
  

   warblers. 
  Wherever 
  one 
  turns 
  a 
  new 
  surprise 
  awaits. 
  Perhaps 
  a 
  Lincoln 
  

   sparrow 
  and 
  a 
  Cape 
  May 
  warbler, 
  or 
  a 
  Philadelphia 
  vireo 
  ; 
  and 
  the 
  i^ossi- 
  

   , 
  bility 
  of 
  a 
  Connecticut 
  or 
  a 
  Kirtland 
  warbler 
  lures 
  you 
  on. 
  It 
  is 
  time 
  to 
  be 
  

   afield 
  all 
  day 
  and 
  see 
  the 
  sights 
  and 
  hear 
  the 
  songs. 
  

  

  But 
  it 
  is 
  quite 
  impossible 
  to 
  find 
  every 
  bird 
  on 
  the 
  first 
  day 
  of 
  its 
  

   arrival, 
  the 
  country 
  is 
  so 
  wide 
  and 
  the 
  special 
  haunts 
  of 
  'each 
  species 
  are 
  

   so 
  scattered. 
  One 
  must 
  visit 
  the 
  lake, 
  or 
  bay, 
  to 
  find 
  the 
  ducks 
  and 
  

   grebes 
  and 
  gulls. 
  The 
  "big 
  woods" 
  of 
  hemlock, 
  beech 
  and 
  maple 
  will 
  

   furnish 
  different 
  birds 
  from 
  those 
  of 
  the 
  swampy 
  second 
  growth. 
  Along 
  

   the 
  brook 
  and 
  across 
  the 
  pasture 
  we 
  meet 
  a 
  few 
  which 
  are 
  not 
  found 
  in 
  the 
  

   meadow, 
  or 
  on 
  the 
  lake 
  shore. 
  On 
  the 
  bush}- 
  hillside 
  we 
  add 
  the 
  Chewink, 
  

   Thrasher 
  and 
  Field 
  sparrow; 
  in 
  the 
  shad}' 
  glen, 
  the 
  Louisiana 
  water-thrush; 
  

   and 
  near 
  the 
  box-crowned 
  pole 
  in 
  the 
  garden 
  the 
  first 
  martins. 
  If 
  not 
  at 
  

   the 
  "float 
  bridge," 
  or 
  the 
  marsh 
  ever}" 
  day, 
  you 
  miss 
  the 
  first 
  note 
  

   of 
  the 
  Sora, 
  Gallinule, 
  Bittern, 
  or 
  Marsh 
  wren. 
  And 
  so 
  each 
  day 
  and 
  

   throus^h 
  all 
  the 
  daA' 
  after 
  the 
  common 
  birds 
  have 
  been 
  found, 
  it 
  becomes 
  

  

  