JUNE DAYS. 55 
the robin from this woodland orchestra, and it would be 
left without a soprano.” This is high praise, but no 
one who is familiar with the facts will say that it is not 
deserved. And when we consider the wide distribution 
of this bird over all parts of North America, from 
Greenland and the islands of Bering’s Sea to Cuba and 
Guatemala, we can imagine the vastness of that chorus 
which ascends from the voices of these birds in the in- 
terval between the earliest dawn and sunrise from April 
to July. 
Our love for the robin, dating back to early child- 
hood, does not prevent a kindred feeling for some other 
birds with which we have most pleasant associations. 
Something would be missing out of life if we could not 
yearly renew acquaintance with the little chipping spar- 
row or hair-bird (Spzzella soctalis, Bonaparte). He used 
to be the most familiar bird of thirty years ago, until the 
arrival of the English sparrow. If he is not attractive 
by his color, ashen-brown above and grayish-white be- 
neath, wearing a velvety-brown skull-cap which easily 
distinguishes him from his kindred, his diminutive size 
and his marked sociability make him a favorite. He 
has, too, his own characteristic song, a long-drawn 
trill, heard early and late, a real and valuable contribu- 
tion to the bird music of spring. If in my callow days 
I threw stones at these confiding sparrows I was never 
unfortunate enough to hit one, and I hope the record- 
