154 Brewster on the Prothonotary Warbler. 
the pleasant company of Mr. Robert Ridgway, with the delightful 
anticipation of a prospective four weeks among the birds of a, to 
me, new region. What ornithologist but has felt the sensations 
arising at such times, — the pleasing certainty of meeting many 
species that are known to occur; the stimulating hope of detecting 
others that may, nay, probably will, be found ; and the vague dream 
of securing some rare prize that shall excite the interest of the whole 
ornithological world 1 But most potent of all to encourage and sus- 
tain are the possibilities, without which the toils and hardships of field 
collecting would be but sad drudgery. A person of prosaic temper- 
ament can rarely if ever make a good field-w r orker. Enthusiasm 
must be the spur to success. At the time of our arrival there was 
a temporary lull in the development of the season. March and early 
April had been unusually warm and pleasant, and vegetation had 
far advanced. Many of the forest trees were already green with 
young foliage, and the leaves of others were beginning to unfold. 
But a period of cold rainy weather succeeded, and everything for 
a time was at a stand-still. On April 19 the first Prothonotary 
Warblers were seen. They seemed to be new arrivals, forerunners 
of the general migration ; shy, comparatively silent, and with that 
peculiar restraint of manner observable in the first comers of most 
migratory birds, — a restraint not so much to be wondered at, for a 
subtile chill and gloom still brooded over the budding forest. Nature 
seemed to hold her breath in expectancy, and the birds, as well as all 
wild creatures, are her children, and sympathize in all her varying 
moods. What lover of the woods has not observed the effect pro- 
duced upon them by a sudden undefinable something that comes 
at times over the face of everything, — a slight imperceptible chill, 
perhaps, or a brief period of cloudiness ; where a moment before all 
was life, bustle, and joyous activity, there is now brooding depres- 
sion and almost death-like silence. Oftentimes the effect is but 
transient, and the former state of things soon resumes. 
With a few warm days the change came, and Nature entered upon 
her gala-day. The tree-tops became canopies of dense foliage ; from 
the starlit heavens at night came the mysterious lisping voices of 
numberless little feathered wanderers pushing their way northward 
amid the darkness, guided by some faculty which must ever remain 
hidden from mortals. Each succeeding morning found new-comers 
taking their places in the woodland choir, and every thicket was 
enlivened by glancing wings and merry bird voices. The spell was 
