SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 19 
it the “needle song,” it is so finely drawn. Its wild, 
sylvan melody, like that of the winter wren, hallows 
the woods, investing their shadowy recesses with an 
additional charm. 
The high wind that partially wrecked Music Hall one 
night last October played mischief with these kinglets, 
which in great numbers were making their southern 
journey. They were compelled to alight; some were 
dashed to the ground, and others flew against windows 
where lights were left burning; some of these were 
taken in and cared for till morning. The following day 
the shade trees were alive with these bright little 
strangers, which immediately made themselves at home. 
It was pleasant to watch them as they busied them- 
selves searching the tree for larva and insects’ eggs. 
When they found an infected limb they did not leave 
until it was entirely cleared. The English sparrows 
watched them inquisitively, following them about, not 
knowing whether to regard them as visitors or intruders. 
They were so tame and unsuspecting that many were 
killed with sticks and stones by gangs of bad boys in 
different parts of the city, who went from tree to tree 
in pursuit until dispersed by policemen. 
The past week has been one of extreme hardship to the 
venturesome birds. The drenching rain froze as it fell, 
coating everything with ice, thus cutting off the natural 
supply of food. This was followed by a fall of snow and 
severe cold. The robins have been silent and dumpish. 
Many of the blue birds perished, and others have disap- 
peared. Even with those hardy little wrens the problem 
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