6 Y. tyYl. 
The Birds of May. 
717 
THE BIBDS OF MAY. 
Among the many pleasant things 
which are possible during the last 
two weeks of May, there is none 
more delightful than to watch the 
migratory birds in their return from 
the South. From far-off tropical re- 
gions they have come ; and they bring 
a tropical brightness and gladness 
back with them. Most have seen the 
Florida Keys, many have wintered in 
the Antilles, and not a few know 
about the fragrant thickets of Guiana 
and Venezuela. The sober and pro- 
saic Bobin is with us at all seasons. 
When the snow disappears, he seems 
somehow to have been left behind it 
as a residuum 5 and he hops to and 
fro upon the wet and spongy soil, 
like one who suffers from cold feet. 
But he dives his bill in, and brings up 
a worm ; and then we perceive what 
he is after. Late in March, too, the 
Bluebird arrives, — the first bit of color 
in the landscape. Then appear flocks 
of blackbirds, wheeling about like 
squadrons of aerial cavalry, and hold- 
ing noisy conventions upon the tree- 
tops ; next, numerous kinds of spar- 
rows, appearing to be very much 
chilled, and as if they thought it a 
very ill wind indeed which had blown 
them northward so early in the sea- 
son. Flocks of ducks and geese pass 
by, hurrying post haste for Labrador ; 
but it is not until the third week of 
May that the real songsters of our 
gardens and woods arrive, — the birds 
of finest tone and brightest feathers. 
They march upon us like an army, 
and enliven every tree and bush with 
the vivacity of their spirit. Those 
who have only heard and admired 
their songs, and have never taken 
much pains to look for them, cannot 
know what surpassingly beautiful, 
what interesting creatures they are. 
Usually just after a storm — not one 
of our cold north-easters, but a warm, 
refreshing rain — we wake up in the 
morning, to find the Golden Bob in in 
our garden, and the Bobolink in our 
meadows. Lord Baltimore has cele- 
brated the one, and Mr. Bryant the 
other. And much more still might be 
said of them ; for they are the heralds 
of summer, and with their rich, full- 
toned warblings give a new key-note 
to the morning choruses, overpower- 
ing the plaintive chirpings we have 
listened to all through April. Either 
by himself might be a theme for 
eulogy ; and we are in doubt which 
to admire most, the Bobolink’s black 
and buff-shaded white, or his cousin’s 
splendid contrast of black and orange. 
Later the female Golden Bobin be- 
comes very disagreeable, playing 
havoc with the green peas, and cry- 
ing out “ hinney ” in a fretful tone 
of voice ; but that does not concern 
us now. Here we have the Summer 
Yellow-bird, — a lump of pure king’s 
yellow, climbing the grape-vines, half 
on his legs and half on his wings. 
He has a sweet little song in the 
minor key, and must not be mistaken 
for the American Goldfinch ; who is 
also quite yellow, but with a bright 
red bill, and remarkable in his appe- 
tite for hemp-seed. There goes one 
now, flying over the tops of the apple- 
trees with a beautiful billowy motion. 
Down lie dives, and then up again, 
uttering three or four clear notes on 
the crest of every air-wave. 
Are the family cats fighting and 
spitting at each other so early in the 
morning ? Uo ; it is a pair of Cat- 
