110 OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 
arrival, but they seem to know when to come. That is 
the mystery that Laura wrote about in her essay on 
the ‘Migration of Birds.’ Still, it sometimes happens 
that a cold rain sets in after their arrival, and, uniess 
they find shelter many of them perish, for their 
feathers are not oily or close enough to be a protection 
in bad weather. 
‘The nest of the Pewee is beautiful” said “Student.” 
He is a good Architect, if he is not a poet or very love- 
able. 
After all, this bird seems to be quite interesting 
although he is not a very great favorite with the poets, 
said “Baby.” I will recite some lines by John T. 
Trowbridge about the 
PEWEE. 
For so I found my forest bird, 
The Pewee of the loneliest woods 
Sole singer in these solitudes, 
Which never Robin’s whistle stirred, 
Where never Bluebird’s plume intrudes. 
Quick darting through the dewy morn, 
The Redstart trilled its twittering horn, 
And vanished in thick boughs; at even 
Like liquid pearls fresh showered from Heaven 
The high hotes of the lone Wood Thrush 
Fall on the forests lonely hush; 
But thou all day complainest here 
Pewee! pewee! pe-ere! 
