IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 
gave us all a good view of himself. “Isn’t he a beauty?” whis¬ 
pered Jack, peering through his glasses. 
“Do either of you know what he is?” I queried. 
“Looks something like a sparrow; all but his head and 
roat,’F$aid Tom. 
“Well, he belongs to the sparrow' family, and his white 
throat proclaims him to be the white-throated sparrow. He is 
•rarely seen here during the Winter, but is quite common in the 
Spring and Summer months. He is now probably on his migra¬ 
tion to a warmer clime. They say he is the handsomest of our 
sparrows. His call is sharp, high-pitched, and a very clear and 
swteet whistle, ‘peabody bird’.” But all we heard was his call 
note when alarmed. He now flew down and began busily to 
P 
hunt for breakfast or probably lunch, as his breakfast time was 
d so we left him to the task. 
Third one this morning,” yelled Jack, “and it isn’t eight 
yet. Pretty good, isn’t it, for a half-hour’s walk?” 
‘Not so bad for this time of the year,” I replied. 
We were just crossing a shallow brook bordered by a clump 
of willow*} w r hen Jack stopped short. “Did you hear that?’ 
>» 
0 >\\ 1 | y/ 
N v “Hear what?” inquired Tom 'and myself. 
Tn of f o J" itt o r* r*/-**a 1 t t oil/JiKI n 1 r i t*r\ o 
ust then a few scarcely audible weak chirps reached our 
ikw 
