XX INTRODUCTION. 
performance they feel exceedingly comfortable. This cleaning seems to be a necessity 
for them. Near the residence of Miss Hedwig Schlichting, in immediate vicinity of the 
kitchen, the Catbirds, Robins, Yellow Warblers, and other birds several times each day 
take their baths in a wooden trough especially provided for them. The same lady, who 
is an enthusiastic friend of nature and especially of the birds, provides also nesting 
material. In early June a pair of Robins built a nest almost exclusively of Spanish 
moss which I had given to Miss Schlichting, and in which I had received some plants 
from Florida.—Toward the late afternoon most birds sing again, and many as fervently 
and impressively as in the morning hours. When the dawn of evening falls, the song 
of many is exceedingly beautiful. As soon as darkness sets in, each bird retires to its 
roosting place, where it spends the night. 
The young birds are attended by their parents with the utmost care. They never 
tire in searching for food for their always hungry offspring. In case of danger they 
defend the nestlings with great courage and boldness, and even after they have left 
the nest, they are cared for and guided by the parents until they are perfectly able to 
take care of themselves. Late in July and in August we see comparatively few birds, 
and, with the exception of the Goldfinch, a few Vireos, and some young Robins, we 
hear no songsters. The plumage of most birds looks untidy and shabby, and almost 
all are very peculiar in their manners, trying to hide when we approach theni. This is 
the time of moulting. They are not able to fly well, and many hop and skip around 
without tails. They seem to feel safest in the thickets and briers, on the woodland’s 
edge and in the tall weeds, where they lead a retired and quiet life till the moulting 
is over. 
MIGRATION. 
A charming and peculiar poetry surrounds the life of our feathered songsters. 
Their flight into the sun-resplendent vastness of the heavenly dome, their rocking on 
the undulating twig, their hiding in woodlands, thickets, and fields, their chant and 
carols in thousandfold variations, their searching for food among the flower-laden 
branches of trees and shrubs—every glance into their life and habits is attractive and 
indescribably pleasing to a thoughtful feeling mind, disposes it to earnestness, attunes 
it to, cheerfulness. The longing of the human soul as well as its hope, these two foun- 
dations, upon which much of our true poetry rests, are influenced by two of the most 
important occurrences in the life of our birds: their departure in autumn and _ their 
return in spring. 
The short and intensely warm summer of our northern clime has passed away. 
The days become perceptibly shorter, the nights steadily cooler. The air is pure and 
invigorating, and the sky shows a deeper tint of blue. The tender spiderweb-like, 
silvery threads float past us, slowly and noiselessly, like a bright dream of the departed 
summer time. Then also comes that peculiar veil-like, exceedingly fine-spread haze, 
perceptible only on distant objects. It does in no way diminish or interfere with 
the wonderful salubrity of the atmosphere prevailing in this season of the year, which 
