A YEAR WITH THE BIRDS 
547 
MARCH 
March! March! March! They are coming 
In troops to the tune of the wind ; 
Red-headed Woodpeckers drumming, 
Gold-crested Thrushes behind. 
Sparrows in brown jackets hopping 
Past every gateway and door. 
Finches with crimson caps stopping 
Just where they stopped years before. 
— Lucy Larcom 
THE SPRING MIGRATION 
Sometimes it seems that winter has only fairly set in here in 
Connecticut when people living south of Virginia notice a dis- 
turbance among the Grackles, Redwings, Robins, etc., that tells 
that they are about to start on their spring migration back to 
their more or less northward nesting ground, young and old 
together. For, like ourselves, a bird remembers the place 
where it was raised, and always tries, if possible, to make its 
own home in the same neighborhood, and we note the coming 
of a few often before March ist. 
In the autumn migration most birds travel in mixed flocks, 
of all sexes and ages ; but in spring the males are apt to take 
the lead, as if to make sure that all is right, and we often hear 
the bugle call of the male Baltimore Oriole a week or more 
before his mate answers in her rather fretful voice. 
All through March, April, and May the birds come on ; 
every morning will show the trained eye some new arrival until 
by June ist they have all either settled down to the home life of 
the nest, or the northward bound have passed on to their sum- 
mer haunts. 
We are so accustomed to have the birds appear and disap- 
pear each year that unless we stop and think we do not realize 
how wonderful these journeys are, or the perils by land and 
water that beset these frail birds of the air. 
Some of you children feel that you have traveled a great 
way when you have been to Boston, New York, or, perhaps, 
Chicago. Take out your geography, and turn to the map of 
North and South America. Put your finger on Brazil; it is 
here that the Barn Swallow whom you watched darting in and 
out the hayloft window may have wintered. The frail Hum- 
ing-bird goes to Central America with its sooty cousin the 
Chimney Swift, while the Nighthawk, together with many of 
the dainty Wood Warblers, make secret excursions through the 
