21 



A SUBURBAN RAMBLE 



The call of spring is irresistible. Many who never 

 see the snow-laden Spruces and naked Maples 

 fixed in the crystalline atmosphere of winter, when 

 silence broods over nature's white coverlet and her 

 sleep is undisturbed, awake with the call of the Crows 

 and the happy greetings of the Robins to a knowledge 

 of the great out-of-doors. Suburban ravines and 

 wooded spots that escape destruction in the shadow 

 of the city welcome again the eager visitors, happy 

 in effecting a momentary escape from noise and 

 turmoil. Robins are happily announcing their hopes 

 and prospects. Crows are passing overhead with 

 steady flight, heralding the arrival of spring, or 

 alighting to discuss prospective domestic affairs. A 

 Downy Woodpecker pounds on a resonant limb, as 

 if his scarlet crest and mottled wings were not enough 

 without boasting his industry to the coy little bunch 

 of feathers beyond the Cedars. The Song Sparrow 

 is everywhere. He comes more than half-way to greet 

 the suburban wanderer. When the Thrushes come 

 we will sympathise with their coyness and subtler 

 melodies, but for the strong and virile spring we must 

 have the Song Sparrow, perched on the highest 



