THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE 
By MABEL OSGOOD WRIGHT 
The National Association of Audubon Societies 
Educational Leaflet No. 26 
“Hush ! ’tis he ! 
My Oriole, my glance of summer fire 
Is come at last.” — Lowell. 
We who punctuate our reading of Nature’s calendar with bird and 
flower, rather than by the artificial figures of the almanac, give to March 
the Bluebird and Song-sparrow, the Redwing and the return of the 
Swallow to April, and to May and June the Wood-thrush, Catbird, 
and Oriole. 
In one reading of the matter the Baltimore Oriole should be first 
mentioned, for his voice is that of the bugler that 
heralds actual spring, the long-expected, long-delayed ^ nn ^ d s 
mellow period which, when it comes to us of the north 
country, is quickly absorbed by the ardor of Summer herself. Also is 
this Oriole the gloriously illuminated initial letter, wrought in ruddy gold 
and black pigments, heading the chapter that records the season ; and 
when we see him high in a tree against a light tracery of fresh foliage, 
we know, in very truth, that not only is winter over, that the treacherous 
snow-squalls of April are past, but that May is working day and night to 
complete the task allotted. 
As the Indian waited for the blooming of the dogwood before plant- 
ing his maize, so does the prudent gardener wait for the first call of the 
Oriole before she trusts her cellar-wintered geraniums and lemon-balms 
once more to the care of Mother Earth. 
It is no wonder that so gaudy and well-known a bird should have 
several names, all of them, as Hang-nest, Fire-bird, and Golden Robin, 
more or less appropriate. “Oriole” is from a Latin word, aureolus, 
meaning golden, or gilded. It was given first to the 
European Oriole, which is more golden in hue than History of the 
ours, but of a different and more thrush-like family. 
When, about 200 years ago, Cecil Calvert, second Baron of Balti- 
more, led a company of English colonists to settle in Maryland, the cen- 
tral town took his name and became the city of Baltimore. Among the 
curiosities sent home by the colonists were skins of this beautiful bird, 
which they called an Oriole, not minding the fact — if they knew it — 
that it was a member of a different family. When therefore, Linnaeus, 
the great naturalist of the eighteenth century, published, in 1766, a scien- 
tific description of the new bird, and noticed that its colors were the 
orange and black of Lord Baltimore’s family, he named it after the baron ; 
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