hicket of wild
gooseberry bushes on the upland. You may easily get within a rod of
them, but hardly closer, and a field glass is almost a necessity to
careful study. He is a grayish, graceful sparrow, with streaks of
reddish brown, chestnut caps, and a small black spot in the middle of
the brownish breast. One white wing bar is a distinguishing
characteristic, and a better one is the difference in color of the two
mandibles; the upper one is black and the lower one yellow. The
tinkling notes of the tree sparrows sound like the music a pipe
organist makes when he uses the sweet organ and the flute stop.

A sharp watch was kept for goldfinches and the evening grosbeak
during the day, but neither was seen. This was something of a
disappointment. But it was forgotten in the thrill of joy that came
late in the afternoon. There was a wide stretch of river bottom,
walled in on the west by a high and forest-crowned ridge; on the east
was the river, with a hundred foot fringe of noble trees, not yet
sacrificed to the axe of the woodsman. The sun was just above the tops
of the trees on the western ridge and long rays of slanting light came
pink across the river flood-plain, investing the tree-tops by the
shore with a soft and radiant light. Suddenly there came a plaintive
little note from the bottom of a near-by tree, instantly recognized as
a new note in the winter woods. Then another, and another, leading the
eyes to the foot of a big bass-wood, where a graceful bird, with a
beautiful blue back and a reddish brown breast, as if his coat had
been made of the bright blue sky and his vest of the shining red sand,
was hopping. The field glass brought him within ten feet. A bluebird,
sure enough! The first real, tangible sign of the spring that is to
be, the first voice from the southland telling us that spring is
coming up the valleys. There is no mistaking the brilliant blue, the
most beautiful blue in the Iowa year, unless it be the blue of the
fringed gentian in the fall; and the soft reddish, earthy breast
enhances the beauty of the brilliant back.

Another hopped into view; the female, doubtless, for both the blue and
the reddish brown were less brilliant. Every well-regulated bluebird
ought to be seen in the top of a tall elm or maple; but these seemed
to have no high-flying inclinations. Maybe they could read in the
clouds beneath the setting sun a prediction of the snow which came
that night. They stayed a few moments and