When the long, grey mornings of spring renew their 
invitation they cannot be denied* Snow lingers in 
secluded corners and frost is still in the ground, 
but spring is awaiting a welcome* Robins are house- 
hunting among the naked trees* Red- winged Black- 
birds are perching on the dead reeds, displaying their 
glossy uniforms and scarlet epaulets, or trying their 
shrill voices from the higher perches in the willows* 
The Song Sparrow is here, his familiar call an earnest 
of the new life awakening on every hand* The Blue- 
bird is displaying his finest colours, and seems 
tempted by his vanity to choose the open fields 
and solitary, leafless trees, where he can compel the 
admiration of all observers* The Fox Sparrow is shy 
and retiring, but his spring song brings a world of 
delight, although he is hidden in the thicket* The 
pussies on the Willow twigs are pushing their little 
grey noses from under their reddish brown hoods* 
The long catkins on the Alders are showing signs of 
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