104 ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



solitude. The outlines of the trees are 

 lost as twilight falls, the wild noises of the 

 night replace the singing of the insects, 

 and the pond is bathed in the pale light 

 of a midsummer's moon. 



So on through the season this little 

 spot of unspoiled country undergoes the 

 changes of Nature. Winter with its 

 snows, chickadees and shrikes ; spring 

 with its flowers, returning birds and bud- 

 ding trees ; summer with its changing 

 flora and warm still days, and autumn 

 with its painted trees, goldenrod and de- 

 parting birds. This place would have 

 long ago been made public by having a 

 street run through it, but on account of 

 the impossibility of filling up the pond, 

 as all the earth thrown in rapidly disap- 

 pears, the scheme was abandoned. Let 

 us hope the pond will retain its " unfill- 

 able " qualities, to coin a word, so that 

 for many years to come it will remain 

 " unimproved." 



