76 BLUEBIRD. 
Listen a moment, I pray you! 
What was that sound I heard? 
Wind in the budding branches, 
The ripple of brooks, or a bird? 
Hear it again, above us, 
And see, « flutter of wings! 
The Bluebird knows it is April, 
And soars to the sun and sings. 
Never the song of the Robin 
Could make my heart so glad; 
When I hear the Bluebird singing, 
In spring, I forget to be sad. 
Never was sweeter music— 
Sunshine turned into song. 
To set us dreaming of summer, 
When the days and the dreams are long 
Winged lute that we call a Bluebird, 
You blend in a silver strain 
The sound of the laughing waitcrs, 
The patter of spring’s sweet rain, 
The voice of the wind, the sunshine, 
And fragrance of blossoming things. 
Ah! you are a poem of April, 
That God endowed with wings. 
ERen E REXFORD. 
Als*HE WINTER yet lingers. Ice still covers the rivers and lakes, a white mantle of 
ae snow the ground: On the snow-covered branches of the Norway spruces and 
hemlocks, Crossbills and Cedarbirds, beautiful and attractive both in their plumage and 
motions, are hopping around in flocks. The berries of the mountain ash, their principal 
food in winter, are nearly consumed. Golden-crowned Kinglets and noisy Chickadees 
are busily engaged among the boughs. Many of these northern winter sojourners have 
made as yet no preparations to leave for their arctic breeding range. 
Suddenly there appears, at the first sign of spring, the loveliest of all our plumaged 
garden inhabitants, the BLUEBIRD, or “Cottage Warbler.’’ This azure-hacked, brown- 
breasted beauty is one of the first comers from southern climes, a true herald of the 
opening spring. In favorable weather, individuals will appear in the Northern States 
as early as the beginning of March, though the majority does not arrive till between 
the middle and the end of that month. Only too frequently it happens that, in the 
months of March and April, the weather remains cold, and heavy snow falls holding 
the earth in chilly embrace for weeks together. We know how long the spring often 
has to struggle with the cold before its warmer days can come. During the heavy 
snowfall and continuous stormy days these beautiful birds suffer greatly. Many perish 
of hunger. Happily most survive their troubles, while numbers go south waiting to 
return with the first warm days. During the colder days when food is scarce, their songs 
are sad and mournful, almost supplicating, but, at the first warm sunshine, all their 
troubles seem to be forgotten. Sweet and gay then sounds their song. Then we hear 
their tender warblings, constantly they fly gaily from tree to tree, over the fences and 
over the roofs, and from ground to tree and tree to ground. At night they seek protection 
from the cold in hollow trees, nesting boxes, and many seek refuge even in chimneys. 
The Bluebirds arrive invariably during the night. They usually come in pairs. They 
will greet you in the early morning with their sweet welcome, where on the evening 
