What a vexatiously pleasant time I had, years ago, in tracing the voice home to its author! How vividly I remember the day when I lay flat on my face in a woodland path, opera-glass in hand, a manual open before me, and the bird singing at intervals from a pine tree opposite; and a neighbor, who had known me from boyhood, coming suddenly down the path. I may err in my recollection (it was long ago), but I think I heard the music for weeks before I satisfied myself as to the identity of the singer. “Trees, trees, murmuring trees:” so I once translated the first of the two songs; and to this day I do not see how to improve upon the version. He is talking of the Weymouth pine, I like to believe. Black-and-white creeping warblers have been common since the 4th (under normal weather conditions they should have been here a fortnight sooner), and on the 6th the oven-bird took possession of the drier woods. He looks very little like a warbler, but those who ought to know whereof they speak class him with that family. I have not yet heard his flight song, but he has no idea of keeping silence. As is true of every real artist, he is in love with his part. With what a daintily self-conscious grace he walks the boards! It is a kind of music to watch him. He makes me think continually of the little ghost in Mrs. Slosson’s story. Like that insubstantial reality he is always saying: “Don’t you want to hear me speak my piece?” And whether the answer is yes or no, it is no matter--over he goes with it. Yesterday my first blue yellow-back was singing, and to-day (May 8) the first chestnut-sides are with me. And there are numbers to follow. From now till the end of the month they will be coming and going--a procession of beauty. In my mind I can already see them: the gorgeous redstart, the lovely blue golden-wing, the splendid magnolia, and the more splendid Blackburnian, the Cape May (a “seldom pleasure”), and the multitudinous blackpoll--these and many others that are no less worthy. At this time of the year a man should have nothing to do but to live in the sun and look at the passing show. INDEX INDEX Alder, 159. black, 135. Anemone, 3. Apple, 51. Arbutus, trailing, 4, 143. Asters, 59, 120. Azalea, swamp, 22. Barberry, 111, 172. Bayberry, 136. Beech, 163. Bees, 58. Birch, sweet, 119, 160. Bittern, 31. least, 30. Bitternut, 113. Blackbird, crow, 120, 240. red-winged, 39, 240, 241, 254. rusty, 155. Blackberry, 172. Bladderwort, 22. Blueberry, 123, 136, 166. Bluebird, 16, 52, 83, 120, 217, 230, 231, 234. Bobolink, 19, 52, 83. Butter-and-eggs, 114. Butterflies, 57, 85, 108. Canna, 62, 115. Catbird, 6, 7. Catnip, 54. Cat-tail, 28. Cedar, red, 39, 172. Checkerberry, 161, 174, 176 Cherry, rum, 123. Chestnut, 34. Chewink, 24. Chickadee, black-capped, 22, 60, 64, 66, 67, 73, 134, 150, 153, 154, 182, 205, 206, 234, 239. Chicory, 27.