26 MEMOIRS OF THE NUTTALL ORNITHOLOGICAL CLUB. 



much more populous and far busier than it was then, and the gardens are fewer in number and 

 more circumscribed in area. These new conditions and the all-pervading House Sparrow 

 have produced a marked change in the bird life of the town. 



I doubt if within the entire city limits of today can be found an Indigo-bird, and yet a 

 pair used to nest every summer close to my old home on Brookline Street. In fact these 

 Indigo-birds, which were made known to me by my mother when I was but a lad, were the 

 first impelling cause that later led to an absorbing interest in all bird life. I well remember 

 the excitement caused by the arrival of these birds late in spring ; and the cheery song of the 

 male, as he sang his lay from the top of a tall juniper, is the first bird song I ever attentively 

 listened to. 



I need scarcely remark that the Robin was a numerous and a welcome visitor to the lawns 

 and garden plots of our neighborhood ; and the indignation excited in our household by a 

 neighbor is still fresh in mind, his crime being the shooting of a number of Robins and Ori- 

 oles because they were freely sampling his ripening cherries. 



The Oriole, resplendent with Lord Baltimore's colors, was f uUy as numerous as the Robin, 

 and the wide-spreading elms of the town offered this bird an abundance of safe and inviting 

 nesting places. Some taU sycamores in our neighborhood were also favorite nesting sites for 

 this beautiful species, whose loud cheery notes even now after these many years still ring in 

 my ears, and for the moment banish the whisper of the palms and the rustle of the banana 

 leaves. 



But perhaps our most highly prized avian friend was the little House Wren. Though a 

 common scold and a prying busybody, his confiding disposition and his habit of nesting in the 

 out-buildings endear him to all bird lovers. Every year a pair nested in a box in our garden, 

 especially provided for them. I used to hear the notes of the House Wren here and there 

 over much of the town, so that it must have been rather numerous in those days. 



In my time, at least, the prince of the Swallow tribe, the Purple Martin, was absent from 

 Cambridgeport, but I am confident that I was told by my mother that it was not always so, 

 and that not many years prior to the sixties there were regularly established colonies within 

 Cambridgeport limits. 



If the Martin was absent, the Swallow tribe was well represented by both the White- 

 bellied and the Barn Swallow. One or more pairs of the former, according to the accommo- 

 dations provided, used to nest in boxes in our garden, and a greater or less number of either 

 species were always to be seen in summer skimming over the Charles River Marshes, from 

 Whittemore's Point upstream towards Mount Auburn. In the early fall thousands of both 

 species flocked to these marshes and alighted in long lines on the telegraph line that followed 

 the course of the then disused railroad. 



These same marshes, every foot of which was familiar to me, were frequented abundantly 

 by the Savanna Sparrow, which nested among the marsh grass, and whose simple trilling song 

 I here heard for the first time. A still rarer bird also nested here, the Sharp-tailed Finch, and 

 I recall with pleasure the unfeigned delight of our mutual friend. Dr. Thomas M. Brewer, 

 when I showed him a clutch of eggs obtained by me on Whittemore's Point, possibly the first 

 set ever found in Massachusetts. 



Of course the Bluebird was distributed here and there all over the town, the presence of 

 a pair indicating with unfailing certainty the residence of a bird lover. In those days " Barkis 

 was always wiUin'." One had only to put up a suitable Bluebird box, and the invitation was 

 promptly accepted. One of my boxes in an old greening apple tree was the favorite resort of 

 a pair of tliese birds. This particular pair commonly reared two broods, as I fancy do most 



