Photo by Frank ]\I. Chapman 

 A JJJKD IX Tllf; 11 -VXD 



see a bird in every l)usli ami find the 

 heavens their pathwav. ( )nc nmment we 

 may admire their beauty of phima,y-e, the 

 next mar\-el at the ease and grace with 

 which they dash by us or circle high 

 overhead. 



But birds will appeal to tis most 

 strongly through their songs. "When 

 your ears are attuned to the music of 

 birds, your world will be transformed. 

 Birds' songs are the most eloquent of 

 Nature's voices : the gay carol of the 

 grosbeak in the morning; the dreann' 

 midda}' call of the pewee : the vesper 

 hymn of the thrush : the clanging of 

 geese in the si)ringtime : the farewell of 

 the bluebird in the fall — how clearh- each 

 one expresses the sentiment of tlie hour 

 or season ! 



I'K.VTHERKD COJIR.MjES 



Having learned a birrl's language, }'0U 

 experience an increased feeling of com- 

 radeship with it. ^'ou ma_\- c^'en share 

 its emotions as vou learn the significance 

 of its notes. Xo one can listen to the 

 song of the mocking-bird without being 

 in some way affected ; but in how many 

 hearts does the tiiik of the night-flying 

 bobolink find a response? I ne^'er hear 

 it without wishing the brave little trav'- 

 eler godspeed on his long journey. 



As time ])asses you will find that the 

 songs of birds bring a constantly increas- 

 ing pleasure. This is the result of asso- 



ciation. The places and peo|jle that make 

 our W'lrliJ are every changing: the jircs- 

 ent slips from us with growing rapidit)- ; 

 but the birds are e^'er with us. 



The robin singing so cheerily outside 

 ni}^ window sings not for himself alimc, 

 l:)ut fi ir hundreds of robins I have known 

 at other times and places. Idis song re- 

 calls a March evening, warm with the 

 ])romise of spring; May mornings, when 

 all the world seemed to ring with the 

 \'oices of birds ; June days, when cherries 

 were ripening ; the winter sunlit forests 

 of Florida and even the sn(jw-capped 

 summit of glorious Popocatepetl. And 

 so it is with other birds. A\"e ma\-, it is 

 true, have known them for \'ears: but 

 they ha\-e not changed, and their famil- 

 iar notes and appearance encourage the 

 pleasant self-delusion that we, toi>, are 

 the same. 



The slender saplings of earlier \ears 

 no\^■ give wide-spreading shade ; the 

 scrubby pasture lot has become a dense 

 woridland. Boyhood's friends are buys 

 no longer, and there has even api)eared 

 another generation of bo)-s whose pres- 

 ence is discotu-aging proof that for us 

 viiuth has past. Then some May morn- 

 ing Ave hear the wood-thrush sing. Has 

 he, too, changed?* Not one note; and as 

 his silverv voice rings through the woods, 

 \\-e are young again. No fountain of 

 youth could be more potent. A hundred 

 incidents of the long ago become as real 



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