ilent. There is a strange remoteness and fascination about
it. Presently you will discover its source skyward, and a quick eye
will detect the gay band pushing northward. They seem to scent the
fragrant meadows afar off, and shout forth snatches of their songs in
anticipation.

The bobolink does not breed in the District, but usually pauses in his
journey and feeds during the day in the grass-lands north of the city.
When the season is backward, they tarry a week or ten days, singing
freely and appearing quite at home. In large flocks they search over
every inch of ground, and at intervals hover on the wing or alight in
the treetops, all pouring forth their gladness at once, and filling
the air with a multitudinous musical clamor.

They continue to pass, traveling by night and feeding by day, till
after the middle of May, when they cease. In September, with numbers
greatly increased, they are on their way back. I am first advised of
their return by hearing their calls at night as they fly over the
city. On certain nights the sound becomes quite noticeable. I have
awakened in the middle of the night, and, through the open window, as
I lay in bed, heard their faint notes. The warblers begin to return
about the same time, and are clearly distinguished by their timid
yeaps. On dark, cloudy nights the birds seem confused by the lights of
the city, and apparently wander about above it.

In the spring the same curious incident is repeated, though but few
voices can be identified. I make out the snowbird, the bobolink, the
warblers, and on two nights during the early part of May I heard very
clearly the call of the sandpipers.

Instead of the bobolink, one encounters here, in the June meadows, the
black-throated bunting, a bird very closely related to the sparrows
and a very persistent if not a very musical songster. He perches upon
the fences and upon the trees by the roadside, and, spreading his
tail, gives forth his harsh strain, which may be roughly worded thus:
fscp fscp, fee fee fee. Like all sounds associated with early summer,
it soon has a charm to the ear quite independent of its intrinsic
merits.

Outside of the city limits, the great point of interest to the rambler
and lover of nature is the Rock Creek region. Rock Creek is a large,
rough, rapid stream, which has its source in the interior of Maryland,
and flows in to the Potomac between Washington and Georgetown. Its
course, for five or six miles out of Wash