EARLY SIGNS OF SPRING. 
199 
a bit of soft green velvet, now swinging to a slender twig, 
or remaining in front of some crevice on vibrating wings, 
and now flying to the next tree as if blown by the wind. 
At 6.30 a crow flew overhead, hailing the day with his 
strong, masculine “caw,” as he settles on a tall pine tree, 
whose slender terminal branches bend beneath his weight. 
He was soon followed by several others, and together they 
descended to the wet meadowland to feed. 
The sun now swung clear of the tree-tops, and as I 
stood watching its golden rays reflected on the hillside near¬ 
by, a Blue Jay’s bell-like “Oely, yoely” floated tome from 
the cool depths of a hemlock grove. This melody is one 
of the first and surest signs of approaching spring. A loud 
tattoo suddenly sounded from the oaks, and on going 
over I saw four Flickers which were bowing and chuckling 
to one another near the top of a tree. After that, at diff¬ 
erent periods of my stay in the woods, I heard the Flicker 
drum his promise of the coming season. 
During this time of excitement, Creepers, Kinglets and 
Chickadees were filling the air with notes of contentment, 
as they neared the finish of their morning meal. 
I now went in search of a reliable and solitary tenant of 
these woods, White-breasted Nuthatch, the only one I find 
remaining constant during the midwinter months. I final¬ 
ly found him, guided by a peculiar laughing call, which at 
first I though to be the “wick, wick, wick” of the Flicker. 
The Nuthatch was sitting still on a horizontal bough, and 
when he uttered the call he extended his neck slightly, 
giving it out with a nasal twang. It was somewhat sim¬ 
ilar to his common “yank,” given in rapid succession, as 
“yank, ank, ank, ank, ank, ank.” This was his express¬ 
ion of spring feelings. 
I now turned my steps toward Cambridge, and in cross¬ 
ing the Charles river I saw a great many Golden-Eyes, with 
a few Black Ducks and two Herring Gulls. This latter 
