THE RETURN OF THE NATIVES. 75 



their fifes in the copses, and the valiant little tit- 

 mice have changed their hearty, convivial notes to 

 melancholy and plaintive pipes. There are but 

 few of our birds whose notes are so completely 

 transposed and voices so entirely altered, as the 

 sprightly chickadee, when the season of love-mak- 

 ing arrives. From the brave busybody, he has 

 lapsed into the love-sick troubador. 



Even the black-polled warbler, which is usually 

 among the last of the migrants, has come a few 

 days before his time, as if some distress was driv- 

 ing him northward. Viewing him in the distance, 

 without a glass, he might be mistaken for the 

 black-and-white creeper, but drawing him closer, 

 you at once see a marked dissimilarity. He wears 

 a head-di-ess much after the pattern and color of 

 the chickadee, with a liberal sprinkling of ash 

 among the black streaks above, and a wash of 

 greenish yellow on the primary quills and tail 

 coverts. He searches the cedars frequently for 

 his food, choosing the spray rather than the trunk. 

 Sometimes he flies out of the tree to capture some 

 insect that has escaped his biU. He seems to ex- 

 amine every twig, turning and twisting his head 

 sideways and underneath the limbs, with the most 

 exquisite grace, as he continually climbs towards 



