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Department of Ornithology 
Under the Direction of the Committees on Bird Preservation and Propagation. 
National Association of Gardeners, L. H. Jensen, St. Louis, Mo., Chairman. 
American Association of Park Superintendents, Hermann Merkel, New York, Chairman. 
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WINNING THE BIRDS. 
WHEX the spring impulse, let loose by melting 
snow, steals over the northern hemisphere, it 
finds the birds that come to us for their home- 
making alrea'ly on the wing from the South. There are 
perils by land and sea in this journey, long flights, and 
fastings, and bufferings ; but when at last they arrive it 
is usually to find good marketing, for early insects are 
abroad as well as early birds. Then follows a period of 
ecstatic song and courtship before settling down to the 
real labor of raising one, two, or sometimes, as with the 
wrens, three broods. 
"April," remarked Mabel Osgood Wright, "is the 
dawn of the natural year. March is a spring month 
merely by courtesy — a sort of delusive 'twilight,' as Wil- 
son Flagg said of it — through which familiar shapes flit, 
appearing and disappearing like wind-blown phantoms. 
March may respond to the sudden lure of the south wind 
and, yielding a little, show us a few hepaticas on a shel- 
tered bank, a trembling group of snowdrops in a garden- 
corner, or the raised cowl of the skunk-cabbage in the 
still ice-edged marsh. Flocks of robins, bluebirds and 
fox sparrows may bring melody to the leafless trees, 
while the meadowlark returns to the lowland pastures in 
company with his squeaking and creaking cousins, the 
grackles, redwings and cowbirds. The phoebe vies with 
the chickadee in telling his name about the sheds and 
outbuildings. On the other hand, March mav mean that 
the hope of the lengthened days is deferred by snow- 
squalls that check both insect and vegetable life, and 
drive the early birds disconsolately to mope in cover. 
"But in April all is different. To be sure, in the 
Northern States the old fields lie sere and brown for the 
greater part of the month, edged and threaded here and 
there by green ribbons of water-cresses, while on hill- 
side in open woodlands the verdure is of moss rather 
than of arrass ; yet everywhere the change quivers on the 
air, and the cheerful chorus of the hylas rises from the 
reedbeds, and makes the heart beat faster. For, after all, 
northward from the middle part of the country, it is by 
sounds rather than by sight that the season takes posses- 
sion of the senses, and makes us realize that it has come. 
It is by a bird, and not by a leaf or flower, that Spring 
first proclaims herself. The flower lies next to the heart 
of earth, and one would think it should be the first to 
feel the pulse of renewal ; but no, it is the bird of the 
air that heralds the coming of spring. 
"Already, in April, the woodcock is practicing his 
sky-dance, and a snow-flurry during the first half of the 
month may whiten the back of his mate brooding on her 
nest among the withered leaves. In April flocks of fox 
sparrows increase and pause on their northerly migra- 
tion. The white-throated sparrows, travelling in still 
more leisurely fashion, pause wherever there are seeded 
weeds and grasses, and mingle their exquisite little pip- 
ing song with that of the purple finch and vesper spar- 
rows ; while the song sparrow, that was perhaps present 
as an individual all winter, becomes legion in a single 
night ; and presently the tremolo of the chipping spar- 
row, insect-like, though of different quality, sounds at 
dawn from the ground or a low bush, where he sits with 
head thrown back in rapture." 
Toward the middle of April, the swallows return with 
their pretty call-notes and lispings, and the ear and eye 
are often piqued by the voices and plumage of many 
warblers. Should the last week in April be fair, and the 
leaves of the birches and swamp maples old enough to 
throw a faint shadow in reply to the golden signal of 
the willows, we may prepare to welcome the woodthrush, 
catbird, brown thrasher, and housewren. "When we see 
the latter tip-tilting and scolding about the repairs neces- 
sary to his last year's residence, we know that spring, in 
all its promise and fullness, is but lingering around the 
corner, coyly arranging her drapery before dancing into 
our sight." 
Some of these birds go on to make their houses in the 
far North, but many remain with us ; yet we do not get 
the full enjoyment of their company in many cases be- 
cause our civilized ways are likely to send them into the 
retirement of the wilder places. To counteract this, and 
keep the birds about our houses and gardens, not only 
for the enjoyment of their presence, but for their value 
as destroyers of noxious insects, we must aid their home- 
making. 
During the season when birds are engaged with their 
domestic duties they are usually a very wise little people. 
They know perfectly well whether a region is calculated 
to provide them with sure and safe nesting-sites, and 
whether sufficient food and water are accessible for their 
daily wants. A little of this same wisdom on our part, 
and a comparatively small expenditure, might make a 
bird-paradise of almost any country estate, or protected 
garden, park or cemetery. 
Properly constructed bird-boxes, wisely placed, have 
often proved to be a means of increasing bird-life to an 
astonishing degree, and this is absolutely the only means 
of getting hole-nesting varieties to remain during the 
summer in places from which all standing dead wood 
has been removed. How such boxes, adapted to the dif- 
ferent kinds of birds, ought to be constructed, and where 
they should be situated, may be learned by consulting 
The National Association of Audubon Societies, 1 (, 74 
Broadway, New York, which will supply printed instruc- 
tions at a trifling cost. It is not an expensive or labori- 
ous matter to provide houses for the birds. 
So writes Mr. T. ( iilbert Pearson, the Secretary of the 
Association mentioned above, in a circular lately issued 
urging that cemeteries be made sanctuaries for birds by 
the use of these simple means. 
"Throughout this country," he pleads, "there should 
be a concerted effort to convert the cemeteries, the homes 
of our dear friends wdio have gone away, into sanctuaries 
for the bird-life of this land. And what isolated spots 
could be more welcome to the birds than these places, 
that hold so many sad memories for human beings? . . . 
In many a cemetery orioles may be tempted to weave 
cradles among the swaying elm limbs, if strings and frag- 
ments of brightly colored yarns are placed where the 
birds may find them. 
"< Ither means of rendering a cemetery alluring to nest- 
ing birds will readily present themselves, when one de- 
velops an active interest in the subject. It takes only a 
little thought, a little care, and a little trouble, to make 
it possible for many birds to dwell in a cemetery, and 
it must be remembered that unless they can nest there, 
the chances are that no great amount of bird-music will 
fill the air. 
198 
