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 
