52 



ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



his back, and not until I had drawn quite 

 near did he fly. His white bill made an 

 excellent field mark. It was just before 

 returning to the city, when I was follow- 

 ing up a motley flock of song, fox and 

 tree sparrows and juncos 

 ; ■ ^ along the edge of a clearing, 

 that I saw what I took to 

 be a black vulture coming 

 toward me, and as he passed 

 I could see that his bill and 

 head were black. Off and 

 on through the morning I 

 would see a buzzard sailing 

 with tilting V-shaped wings 

 far above the trees. 



How quickly my two 

 mornings in those " fresh 

 pastures new " passed and 

 when I returned to Massachusetts' Feb- 

 ruary snow-bound woods I felt as if I 

 had taken a step backward ; a step into 

 the past. At first I felt as if the edge 

 had been taken off the surprises of the 

 coming spring, but with the arrival within 

 our borders of many of my February 

 friends came the memory of that earlier 

 spring and of those new bird-friends whom 

 I hope soon to meet again. 



woods and 



