90 In Touch with Nature. 



a pale-blue sky, and north-bound warblers every- 

 where. 



Birds are not given to consult the almanac, but 

 it is fitting that the myriad songsters that we have 

 missed for months should appear in force upon 

 this magic date, May i ; and so it was this year. 

 Seldom have I seen so many at one time. A long- 

 neglected field was the first spot at which a halt 

 was made, and it was a happy thought to linger in 

 and about the tall weeds, remnants of last year's 

 growth, and the sturdy bushes that filled the 

 angles of an old worm-fence. Here were sparrows 

 in abundance. Not the unfortunate importations, 

 but our native ones. Song-sparrows were ec- 

 static, field-sparrows exultant, white-throats de- 

 monstrative, and the delightful chippers joyous. 

 It was a competitive concert, each claiming my 

 undivided attention and admiration, and the con- 

 testants receiving my impartial approbation. No 

 other thought than that of making merry seemed 

 to enter the busy brains of any bird, so how could 

 I do otherwise than say each was perfect, and so 

 was each. It appeared as if none could be omitted 

 without marring the effect. As a concert it was 



