The Cardinal 39 



though they usually live in families or pairs, and at all times 

 disperse into these selective groups, yet in severe weather at 

 sunset in South Carolina I observed a flock passing to a roost 

 in a neighboring swamp, and bushy lagoon, which continued in 

 lengthened file to fly over my head at a considerable height 

 for more than twenty minutes together. The beautiful pro- 

 cession illumined by the last rays of the setting sun was 

 incomparably splendid as the shifting shadowy light at quick 

 intervals flashed upon their brilliant livery. They had been 

 observed to pass in this manner to their roost for a consider- 

 able time, and at daybreak they were seen again to proceed 

 and disperse for subsistence. How long this timid and gre- 

 garious habit continues, I cannot pretend to say, but by the 

 first week in February the song of the Redbird was almost 

 daily heard. 



As the season advances roving pairs, living as it were only 

 with and for each other, flit from place to place, and following 

 also their favorite insect or vegetable fare, many proceed back 

 to the same cool region in which they were bred, and from 

 which they were reluctantly driven, while others impelled by 

 interest, caprice and adventure seek to establish new families 

 in the most remote limits of their migration. Some of these 

 more restless wanderers occasionally, though rarely, favor this 

 part of New England with a visit. 



After listening with so much delight to the lively fife of the 

 splendid Cardinal as I traveled alone through the deep and 

 wild solitudes which prevail over the southern States, and bid, 

 as I thought, perhaps an eternal adieu to the sweet voice of 

 my charming companions, what was my surprise and pleasure 

 on the 7th of May to hear for the first time in this State and 

 in the Botanic Garden, above an hour together, the lively and 

 loud song of this exquisite vocalist, whose voice rose above 



