CHAPTER XIII 



FEATHEHED GEMS 



(The Warblers) 



TALKING about a day in June being "rare" 

 always makes me feel like standing up for May. 

 Really I should like to know whether any day 

 in June can surpass a real "warbler day" in May — 

 when the fruit trees are white and pink with their 

 canopies of blossoms, when the tints of the young 

 foliage are so exquisite, when the air is soft but not hot, 

 and when trees and shrubbery in woods, swamp, 

 garden, orchard and village streets are fairly alive with 

 variegated warblers, flashing about in their greens, 

 blues, reds and yellows. Yesterday we noticed none, 

 but to-day, this thirteenth of May — lucky day it is 

 indeed — we can hardly look at an apple tree without 

 having our eyes arrested by movements which are not 

 those of blossoms swayed by the wind. As though the 

 wedding garb of this bridal tree were not rich enough 

 to express the springtime joy, she must be further 

 decked with feathered gems, the crowning jewelry of 

 Nature. It is indeed a joy to live and move and have 

 one's being at such a time — outdoors, of course, for it 



me 



