42 
BIRDS 
May, yet the Swallows and Orioles are 
the most conspicuous. The bright plum¬ 
age of the latter seems really like an 
arrival from the tropics. I see them flash 
through the blossoming trees, and all the 
forenoon hear their incessant warbling 
and wooing. The Swallows dive and 
chatter about the barn, or squeak and 
build beneath the eaves; the Partridge 
drums in the fresh unfolding woods; the 
long, tender note of the Meadow-Lark 
comes up from the meadow; and at sun¬ 
set, from every marsh and pond come the 
ten thousand voices of the Hylas. May 
is the transition month, and exists to con¬ 
nect April and June, the root with the 
flower. 
With June the cup is full, our hearts 
are satisfied, there is no more to be de¬ 
sired. The perfection of the season, 
among other things, has brought the per¬ 
fection of the song and plumage of the 
birds. The master artists are all here; 
and the expectations excited by the 
Robin and the Song-Sparrow are fully 
justified. The Thrushes have all come; 
and I sit down upon the first rock, with 
