74 



IN BIRD LAND. 



feel that life is worth living ; that if God made this 

 bird so happy, he must intend that his rational 

 creatures, who are of more value than a bird, should 

 also be cheerful. 



Never were the birds so gentle and confiding as 

 they were during that spring. A female redstart 

 took up her residence in my yard for fully a week, 

 flitting about in the trees and grape-arbor, seeking 

 for nits and worms ; and you are to remember that 

 I live in town (though in the outskirts), with many 

 houses and people about, and an electric car whirl- 

 ing along the street every few minutes. A dainty 

 bay-breasted warbler — little witch ! — kept the red- 

 start company, letting me stand beneath the trees 

 on whose lower branches she tilted, and watch her 

 agile movements ; yet one of my bird books declares 

 that the bay-breasted warblers remain in the highest 

 tree-tops of the woods ! Both these birds occasion- 

 ally uttered a trill. 



The goldfinches, too, were very familiar. They 

 came with the procession as far north as my neigh- 

 borhood, but stopped here for the summer, instead 

 of continuing their pilgrimage. Some of their 

 brothers and sisters remained with me all winter. 

 Within a few feet of my rear door stands a small 

 apple-tree, in whose branches these feathered gold- 

 flakes flashed about, and sang their childhke ditties, 

 and one httle madam fluttered in the leafy crotches 

 of the twigs, fitting her body into them as if trying 

 to see if they would make good nesting-sites ; the 

 while Sir Goldfinch sang and sang at the top of his 



