THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS 7 
Robin-redbreast, with whom he associates both at 
this season and in the autumn, is the gold-winged 
woodpecker, alias “high-hole,” alias “flicker,” 
alias “yarup.” He is an old favorite of my boy- 
hood, and his note to me means very much. He 
announces his arrival by a long, loud call, repeated 
from the dry branch of some tree, or a stake in 
the fence, -—a thoroughly melodious April sound. 
I think how Solomon finished that beautiful de- 
scription of spring, ‘And the voice of the turtle is 
heard in the land,” and see that a description of 
spring in this farming country, to be equally char- 
acteristic, should culminate in like manner, — “ And 
the call of the high-hole comes up from the wood.” 
It is a loud, strong, sonorous call, and does not 
seem to imply an answer, but rather to subserve 
some purpose of love or music. It is “ Yarup’s” 
proclamation of peace and goodwill to all. On 
looking at the matter closely, I perceive that most 
birds, not denominated songsters, have, in the 
spring, some note or sound or call that hints of a 
song, and answers imperfectly the end of beauty 
and art. As a “livelier iris changes on the bur- 
nished dove,” and the fancy of the young man 
turns lightly to thoughts of his pretty cousin,. so 
the same renewing spirit touches the “silent sing- 
ers,” and they are no longer dumb; faintly they 
lisp the first syliables of the marvelous tale. Wit- 
ness the clear, sweet whistle of the gray-crested 
titmouse, — the soft, nasal piping of the nuthatch, — 
the amorous, vivacious warble of the bluebird, — 
