58 IN BIRD LAND. 



IV. 



FEBRUARY OUTINGS. 



IF I were not afraid of the ridicule of the cynic, 

 I should begin this February chronicle with an 

 exclamation of delight ; but in these days, when so 

 many of the so-called cultured class have taken for 

 their motto. Nil admirari, one must try to repress 

 one's enthusiasm, or be scoffed at, or at least pat- 

 ronized, as young and inexperienced. Yet it would 

 be out of the question for the genuine rambler to 

 keep the valve constantly upon his buoyant feelings. 

 If he did so, he would be wholly out of tune with 

 the jubilant mood of bird and bloom and wave 

 around him. 



Almost every day of February, 1891, was a gala- 

 day for me, on account of the large number of birds 

 in song at that time. The weather was not always 

 pleasant, but the month came in blandly, bringing 

 on its gentle winds many birds from their southern 

 winter-quarters ; and as they had come, they made 

 up their minds to stay. My notes begin with the 

 eleventh of the month, and my narrative will begin 

 with that date. In the evening I strolled out to my 

 favorite swamp. On my arrival all was quiet ; but 

 soon the song- sparrows, seeing that a human auditor 



