200 
AS THE YEAR PASSES 
with anxiety regarding his fate. Spring came without 
his cheering call, and autumn passed without his 
sociable activity. The next year was awaited with 
anxiety, and the few eager announcements of actual 
visits left the balance even between expectancy and 
disappointment. Now our happy friend is as familiar 
as ever, and his bright blue coat and dark red breast 
are conspicuous among the leafless branches as he 
lingers on his southern journey. The harsh voice of 
the Jay calls a visitor to admire his beautiful display 
of blue and white. He is a happy fellow, quite content 
with the fare provided by the bleak woods throughout 
the winter. The White Throat is among the most 
interesting of the passing migrants — so full of song 
that his music may overflow at any time, even in the 
night. It sings away the days in its southern home 
when other birds are silent, but has a wealth of spirit 
in reserve for his love song in the northern woods * 
Though many of the passing visitors lack the bright 
plumage and inspiring songs of spring, there is a warm 
sociability in their transient gatherings and a confident 
familiarity that seem a compensation for the vanished 
youth of the year. 
