426 NOTES ON NEW ENGLAND BIRDS 



first woodpecker comes screaming into the empty bouse 

 and throws open doors and windows wide, calling out 

 each of them to let the neighbors know of its return. 

 But heard further off it is very suggestive of ineffable 

 associations which cannot be distinctly recalled, — of 

 long-drawn summer hours, — and thus it, also, has the 

 effect of music. I was not aware that the capacity to 

 hear the woodpecker had slumbered within me so long. 

 When the blackbird gets to a conqueree he seems to be 

 dreaming of the sprays that are to be and on which he 

 is to perch. The robin does not come singing, but utters 

 a somewhat anxious or inquisitive peep at first. The 

 song sparrow is immediately most at home of any that 

 I have named. I see this afternoon as many as a dozen 

 bluebirds on the warm side of a wood. 



Each new year is a surprise to us. We find that we 

 had virtually forgotten the note of each bird, and when 

 we hear it again it is remembered like a dream, remind- 

 ing us of a previous state of existence. How happens 

 it that the associations it awakens are always pleasing, 

 never saddening ; reminiscences of our sanest hours ? 

 The voice of nature is always encouraging. 



May 10, 1858. It is remarkable how many, new birds 

 have come all at once to-day. The hollow-sounding note 

 of the oven-bird is heard from the depth of the wood. 

 The warbling vireo cheers the elms with a strain for 

 which they must have pined. The trees, in respect to 

 these new arrivers, have been so many empty music- 

 halls. The oriole is seen darting like a bright flash 

 with clear whistle from one tree-top to another over the 



