2 WAKE-ROBIN 
been awake some weeks, but with the universal 
awakening and rehabilitation of nature. 
Yet the coming and going of the birds is more or 
less a mystery and a surprise. We go out in the 
morning, and no thrush or vireo is to be heard; we 
go out again, and every tree and grove is musical; 
yet again, and all is silent. Who saw them come? 
Who saw them depart? 
This pert little winter wren, for instance, darting 
in and out the fence, diving under the rubbish here 
and coming up yards away, — how does he manage 
with those little circular wings to compass degrees 
and zones, and arrive always in the nick of time? 
Last August I saw him in the remotest wilds of 
the Adirondacks, impatient and inquisitive as usual; 
a few weeks later, on the Potomac, I was greeted 
by the same hardy little busybody. Does he travel 
by easy stages from bush to bush and from wood to 
wood? or has that compact little body force and 
courage to brave the night and the upper air, and 
so achieve leagues at one pull? 
And yonder bluebird with the earth tinge on his 
breast and the sky tinge on his back, -—did he 
come down out of heaven on that bright March 
morning when he told us so softly and plaintively 
that, if we pleased, spring had come? Indeed, 
there is nothing in the return of the birds more 
curious and suggestive than in the first appearance, 
or rumors of the appearance, of this little blue-coat. 
The bird at first seems a mere wandering voice in 
the air: one hears its call or carol on some bright 
