THE LANDING. 223 



and yet saw nothing of them. It is additional and un- 

 needed evidence that the horizon of one individual's ob- 

 servation is very limited. On the other hand, the report 

 of the gunner that the cow-blackbirds have been scarce 

 of late is quite an error. I can speak with confidence 

 concerning the past twenty years, and in no one of these 

 have I failed to find them in abundance ; but, unlike him, 

 I never saw such a flock as he reported. 



The redwings, too, are flocking now. Their cheerful 

 chatter is heard everywhere over the meadows, and at 

 intervals great flocks pass swiftly by. Nor have they 

 yet forgotten their spring-tide songs. Above the roar 

 of beating wings and the shrill chirping of their com- 

 panions can be heard the sweet singing of many that no 

 thought of frosty autumn seems to sadden. 



As early as the middle of July the redwings begin 

 to congregate on the willow hedges, and a dozen or more 

 birds flying together, their wings keeping 



"time, time, time, 

 In a sort of Runic rhyme,'' 



give us the earliest intimation of the approach of au- 

 tumn. It is six weeks off, to be sure, even according to 

 the almanac, and nine weeks really ; but when the wavy, 

 concerted flight of a few blackbirds fans the outlying 

 leaves of the tree-tops, know then that the active days 

 of summer — days of nesting and bird-youth — are over, 

 and with the gathering of the clans a new era is ushered 

 in ; and these wide meadows, rich in tangled weeds, and 

 all spotted and scarred with thicket, hedge, and pool, are 

 their gathering grounds. 



