he sharp-clucking lectures on
propriety of the mud-hen to its young; the _brek-kek-kek, coaz-coaz_ of
the frog; the splash of a tumbling turtle; the rushing of a flock of
startled ducks rising on swift wings; the sprightly contagious laughter
of those little elves the marsh-wrens, teetering on the elastic leaves
of the cat-tails.

No birds are more characteristic of such a reedy tract than the
blackbirds, of which there are several more or less common species in
different parts of the country. The most striking of all, in the eastern
half of the Union, is

THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD.

The red-wing's favorite resort is the vicinity of water where the rushes
grow densely, among which he places his nest; but the little swales in
the meadows, where tufts of rank grass flourish upon islands formed by
the roots of previous years' growth, and a few stunted alders and
cranberry-bushes shade the black water, are nearly always sure to be the
home of a few pairs. Such extensive marshes as I have just described
are, however, the great centres of blackbird population, where they
breed, where they collect in great hordes of young and old as the end of
the season approaches, and whence they repair to the neighboring fields
of Indian corn to tear open the husks and pick the succulent kernels. In
September I have seen them literally in tens of thousands wheeling about
the inundated wild-rice fields bounding the western end of Lake Erie,
their black backs and gay red epaulets glistening in the sun "like an
army with banners." The Canadian _voyageurs_ call them "officer-birds,"
and the impression of an army before him is always strong upon the
beholder as he gazes at these prodigious flocks in autumn; and it is
extremely interesting to watch the swift evolutions of the crowded
ranks, and observe the regularity and concert of action which governs
the movements of the splendidly uniformed birds.

The red-wings are among the earliest of our spring visitors, and south
of the Ohio River and Washington may be found all through the winter.
Their loud and rollicking spring note is familiar to every one in the
country. _Conk-quiree! conk-quiree!_ sings out the male, as though he
knew a good story if only he had a mind to tell it; and then adds
_Chuck!_ as though he thought it of no use to try to interest you in it,
and that he had been indiscreet in betraying an enthusiasm beneath his
dignity over a matter beyond your appreciation. His plain b