Saying, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, the morning is genkenint. or 
did it say anything? He had to share his joy and he touch- 
ed his chum, pointing at the acme and gate lay there 4 
watching and listening. 
As the light increased, they saw that the singer was a 
-gmall bird, about the size of an English sparrow, with a _ 
mottled brown back, gray stripes about its eyes and a speck- 
led breast. His throat was swelling as flute-like tones filled _ 
the air; his slender, long brown legs, and crooked toes were — 
clasped firmly around a stem, as if to hold him down to 
earth, while his song reached beyond the tree tops out into 
heaven. The big chestnut-brown breastpin that he wore, 
rippled up and down with the melody, and, occasionally, his 
wings joined in the music. His grayish-white sides were 
heavily splashed and spotted, as if in his rush to be the first’ 
singer of the morning, he had soiled his white vest as he 
slipped through a sooty stump, and had not ede had time tO 
clean himself. — | 
However, he was a trim little fellow, and, on ee eer d | 
to a small picture bird book that they carried, they decided 
that the singer must be the Rusty Song Sparrow, and that 
the man who named this variety knew what he was doing, 
for he was surely rusty while his song was a wonder. By a 
this time there were a dozen of these birds joining in a 
chorus, and, after a hasty breakfast, the boys gave them- 
selves up to a day of studying the lessons the song sparrows 
— could teach them. . | | 
‘The boys had every chance to learn some of the habits 
and songs of the first singer, for their camp was ideal in its © 
location for attracting this species of birds. A road ran 
along the edge of a swampy creek; sometimes wandering a 
through blossoming willows ; sometimes loitering at the edge 
of the water, where tangles of wild roses were beginning to 
show buds on their red stems; and sometimes it was only 
-a path arched over by giant fronds of the common sword 
8 
