On the fifth of last April, 1 was walking on the railroad track, 

 in the vicinity of the town, shortly before sunset, when I came 

 across three birds which were entire strangers to me. They 

 were feeding at the time on the side of an embankment that, 

 owing to its southern aspect, was already bare of snow ; and as 

 they flitted to the ground and returned to the telegraph wires, 

 their blue backs and wings flashed brilliantly in the rays of the 

 setting sun, causing me to think at first of the Jay ; but no, these 

 pretty strangers were but half his size. Fearing to approach too 

 closely, lest they might take flight, I attempted to observe them 

 for some time at a distance ; but not having my field-glass, it 

 was very unsatisfactory, besides curiosity kept urging me nearer 

 and nearer. Presently, and to my great relief, it dawned on my 

 mind they were paying very little, if any, attention to me, 

 being wholly intent on foraging ; and thus I was enabled to ap- 

 proach within a few yards, whence I made out more clearly the 

 color of the plumage. Judge of my feelings of astonishment 

 and incredulity, when their general characteristics suggested 

 Sialia sialls—the Eastern Blue Bird, which I had merely read 

 of, but had never seen. Impossible! Up in this cold dreary north 

 on the fifth of April, with the whole country, field and forest, 

 covered with a mantle of snow three feet thick ! Surely I must be 

 snow or color blind! Look again. Observe their rapid, but 

 graceful descent, the accuracy with which they drop on their 

 prey, and their almost immediate return. How quietly and still 

 they sit on their perch, until some moving object attracts their 

 attention ; how familiar and confiding : they do not seem to 

 notice my presence at all. If they are apprehensive of danger, 

 and move oft" a little, the distrust is concealed under the 

 appearance of business, seemingly making a longer flight to 

 pounce upon some insect. O yes, there can be no mistake 

 about the birds' identity, those bright blue backs, wings, and 

 tails, the reddish-brown breasts, the quiet demeanor, the feed- 

 ing habits, all belong to but one, the Blue Bird ; but will not 

 the identification be discredited by professional ornithologists, 

 since it was the work of an amateur.? As far as I knew 

 the species had never been reported farther north than the vicin- 

 ity of St. John., and but rarely from there ; Newcastle, however, 

 was 150 miles from St. John, and almost directly north. These 

 seemed to me strong reasons for taking one, but alas; I had no 

 gun. 



By this time the sun had set. The air began to grow chilly ; 

 my interesting companions ceased feeding, and commenced 

 chirping to one another, as if discussing, what next.? Presently 

 a decision was reached ; for the three rose on the wing, and 

 were soon lost in the gathering shades of the dark pine forest. 



The gray dawn of the morrow found me, gun in hand, hasten- 

 ing over the strong crust field, across which even a Goliatli coidd 

 have strode in safety. Everywhere silence reigned, disturbed 

 only by the hard snow crunching under my feet, and echoing from 



The dark green of the woods had, during night, given place to 

 a silvery covering of frost which transformed the whole forest 

 into a mass resembling a great white cloud, thrown against the 

 horizon of a blue sky. From the early chimney tops, columns 

 of pale smoke were ri.sing into the still morning air, so tall and 

 graceful and wliite as to seem like delicate marble pillars supjDort- 

 ing the arched dome overhead. But that which claimed most of 

 my attention, and filled me with alternate hope and fear, was, 

 shall I see again my featliered visitors of the evening before.? 

 When I reached their feeding ground nothing was to be seen. 

 I waited long and anxiously. Presently the sun rose large and 

 red, and shook his brilliant rays in profusion over the snowy 

 landscape. Soon tlie whole forest was aglow, flashing and 

 sparkling as if set with a million gems, but, like some fond dream 

 or hope of the young heart, it soon vanished, leaving nothing 

 except the dull reality. In a few minutes the hardy Crossbills 

 ventured forth from their night retreat, and with sharpened appe- 

 tites, began breakfasting on the cones, whispering to one another 

 all the time. A Pine Grosbeak and Purple Finch, a solitary 

 Robin, and an occasional Jay added in turn their voices to wake 

 up the slumbers of bird life. 



That blue flash! What is it.? Yes, there are the three 

 pretty objects of my curiosity, perched on the telegraph wires 

 where I last saw them, as quiet and easy of manner, as confiding 

 and thoughtless of danger, and even more beautiful than on the 

 evening before. I had killed hundreds of birds in my life : I had 

 never felt such an absorbing interest in one before; yet on no 

 occasion did I ever raise my gun with so much reluctance to take 

 a life. And when at length I held in my hand a beautiful life- 

 less form, heard its two little friends, companions of its long 

 journey and dreary nights, whispering to one another, methought, 

 in mournful tones ; when I saw them rise in the air, uttering a 

 loud shrill note that sounded in my guilty ears like the curse of 

 betrayed innocence, and fly away never to be seen by me again, 

 my heart grew heavy, and I almost cursed that professional in- 

 credulity which drives an amateur into acts of needless cruelty. 

 And even now as I raise my eyes from the paper, and look upon 

 the graceful form, perched on a tiny stand, ornamented more 

 than usual as if to make some restitution for the destruction of 

 its life, the motionless presence recalls the events of that sunny 

 April morning, and stirs anew the feeling of regret and pain. 



Auk, 4, July 188 7. p. 



