2 THE ‘AsUtD U BtOcN= BU rata 
a lovely overgrown place; a happy little stream near, and, all about, the 
lure of woodland trails over the dunes, very gentle ones at this point. 
A bird sanctuary! And here they were. 
No need to go questing. Nuthatches, animating the old tree trunks, 
square of tail, long of bill, our little tree mice; real bird Yankees with 
nasal tones. A swamp sparrow was pattering about in the soft mud; 
there were still many tree sparrows, familiarly known as winter chippies; 
red and brown crown, two pretty white wing bars, and voices like “tinkling 
bells” — sweet, not strong. 
Hundreds of juncos still with us. They seemed to be holding a very 
important meeting with the tree sparrows; nearly everyone voiced an 
opinion. From what I know about bird talks, I judged they were trying 
to decide upon the hour to leave for the North, to mate and set up house- 
keeping. There were many pros and cons, but all were as sweet as possible 
about it. No doubt everything was satisfactorily settled, and we shall 
probably not see these two feathered friends again until autumn. 
A phoebe, too, a bit early I should think, for a flycatcher. Perhaps he 
thought so,*as, for a wonder, he was perfectly silent, not making the usual 
demand for “‘phoe-be.” He had eyes fixed on a little bridge and maybe he 
was planning his small bungalow in this favorite location. 
But what was the noise in the dry oak leaves? There was not even a 
gentle breeze. Could there be chickens scratching? No; these were red- 
brown scratchers, but little brighter than the leaves, and a bit over seven 
inches long. The great event of March, long looked for, at last on the 
edge of April! His Tawny Majesty, the Fox Sparrow — not one or two, 
but a score at least. 
Presently a whir, and from many a bush the lovely, rich song, full of 
emotion, but all too short. It seemed as if all were singing. We were 
out of breath with the delight and surprise of it. What a dandy he is 
in warm suit with whitish breast and dashes and arrow-heads of red-brown! 
There are thrills without number for the nature lover in early spring. 
The “ok-a-lee” of the marsh red-wing, in epaulets of red, orange-edged; 
the golden willows and crimson dogwood; the sapphire of a bluebird’s 
back; the shy opal colored beauty of hepaticas. 
But the greatest thrill is the melodious carol of the fox sparrow, per- 
haps towards sunset time in the golden dune country, provided one is 
listening with a friend who “loves what is lovely’ and with whom one 
can be silent — on the edge of April. 
From “Birds and Blossoms,” copyrighted by Mrs. A. B. Cody. 
et fi fi 
Christmas Census—1946 
CENSUS TAKERS for this season were more fortunate in the weather condi- 
ticns encountered than have been the groups for the two previous years. 
While some snow was present, up to six inches in depth in one report, the 
handicaps of icy roads and sub-zero temperatures which affected the earlier 
