30 WAKE-ROBIN 
After I had completed his downfall and quiet had 
been partially restored, a half-fledged member of 
the bereaved household came out from his hiding- 
place, and, jumping upon a decayed branch, chirped 
vigorously, no doubt in celebration of the victory. 
Till the middle of July there is a general equi- 
librium; the tide stands poised; the holiday spirit 
is unabated. But as the harvest ripens beneath the 
long, hot days, the melody gradually ceases. The 
young are out of the nest and must be cared for, 
and the moulting season is at hand. After the 
cricket has commenced to drone his monotonous 
refrain beneath your window, you will not, till 
another season, hear the wood thrush in all his 
matchless eloquence. .The bobolink has become 
careworn and fretful, and blurts out snatches of his 
song between his scolding and upbraiding, as you 
approach the vicinity of his nest, oscillating between 
anxiety for his brood and solicitude for his musical 
reputation. Some of the sparrows still sing, and 
occasionally across the hot fields, from a tall tree 
in the edge of the forest, comes the rich note of 
the scarlet tanager. This tropical-colored bird loves 
the hottest weather, and I hear him even in dog- 
days. 
The remainder of the summer is the carnival of 
the swallows and flycatchers. Flies and insects, 
to any amount, are to be had for the catching; and 
the opportunity is well improved. See that sombre, 
ashen-colored pewee on yonder branch. A true 
sportsman he, who never takes his game at rest, 
