mid its decayed branches.
Sometimes you would hear only a gentle, persuasive cooing, or a quiet,
confidential chattering,--then that long, loud call, taken up by first
one, then another, as they sat about upon the naked limbs,--anon, a sort
of wild, rollicking laughter, intermingled with various cries, yelps,
and squeals, as if some incident had excited their mirth and ridicule.
Whether this social hilarity and boisterousness is in celebration of the
pairing or mating ceremony, or whether it is only a sort of annual
"house-warming" common among High-Holes on resuming their summer
quarters, is a question upon which I reserve my judgment.

Unlike most of his kinsmen, the Golden-Wing prefers the fields and the
borders of the forest to the deeper seclusion of the woods,--and hence,
contrary to the habit of his tribe, obtains most of his subsistence from
the ground, boring for ants and crickets. He is not quite satisfied with
being a Woodpecker. He courts the society of the Robin and the Finches,
abandons the trees for the meadow, and feeds eagerly upon berries and
grain. What may be the final upshot of this course of living is a
question worthy the attention of Darwin. Will his taking to the ground
and his pedestrian feats result in lengthening his legs, his feeding
upon berries and grains subdue his tints and soften his voice, and his
associating with Robin put a song into his heart?

Indeed, what would be more interesting than the history of our birds for
the last two or three centuries? There can be no doubt that the presence
of man has exerted a very marked and friendly influence upon them, since
they so multiply in his society. The birds of California, it is said,
were mostly silent till after its settlement, and I doubt if the Indians
heard the Wood-Thrush as we hear him. Where did the Bobolink disport
himself before there were meadows in the North and rice-fields in the
South? Was he the same blithe, merry-hearted beau then as now? And the
Sparrow, the Lark, and the Goldfinch, birds that seem so indigenous to
the open fields and so averse to the woods,--we cannot conceive of their
existence in a vast wilderness and without man. Did they grow, like the
flowers, when the conditions favorable to their existence were
established?

But to return. The Bluebird and Song-Sparrow, these universal favorites
and firstlings of the spring, come before April, and their names are
household words.

May is the month of the Swallo