28 
BIRDS 
run, leap, scream, chase each other 
through the air, diving and sweeping 
among the trees with perilous rapidity. 
In that free, fascinating, half-work and 
half-play pursuit, — sugar-making, — a 
pursuit which still lingers in many parts 
of New York, as in New England,* the 
Robin is one's boon companion. When 
the day is sunny and the ground bare, 
you meet him at all points and hear him 
at all hours. At sunset, on the tops of 
the tall Maples, with look heavenward, 
and in a spirit of utter abandonment, he 
carols his simple strain. And sitting thus 
amid the stark, silent trees, above the 
wet, cold earth, with the chill of winter 
still in the air, there is no fitter or sweeter 
songster in the whole round year. It is 
in keeping with the scene and the occa¬ 
sion. How round and genuine the notes 
are, and how eagerly our ears drink them 
in! The first utterance, and the spell of 
winter is thoroughly broken and the re¬ 
membrance of it afar off. 
Robin is one of the most native and 
democratic of our birds; he is one of the 
family, and seems much nearer to us than 
