have passed out of sight the
loud and prolonged "O-wick-o-wick-o-wick-o-wick" of the flicker makes us
lift our eyes to the top of a scarlet oak and anon three or four of the
handsome fellows alight nearer by so that we may the better admire their
white-tailed coats, brown shoulders, scarlet napes and the beautiful
black crescent on their breasts. When we hear the call of the flicker we
may know that spring is here to stay. They are as infallible as the
yellow-breasted larks in the meadows.

"Chip-chip-chip-chip,"--yes, of course that's the chipping sparrow;
another of the engaging creatures which almost has been driven from the
habitations of his human friends by the miserable English sparrows. Often
have we seen the little fellow set upon and brutally hurt by these
pirates. Now he stays around rural homes, and his chestnut crown, brown
coat mixed with black and gray, his whitish vest and black bill are
always a welcome sight. He takes up the chant of the year where the
departing junco left it off, throws back his tiny head and his little
throat flutters with the oft-repeated syllable, continued rapidly for
about four seconds. A while longer we wait and are rewarded by a few bars
of the musicful song of the brown thrasher who has just arrived with Mrs.
Thrasher for two weeks of courtship and song, after which they will build
a new home in the hazel thicket and go to housekeeping.

Just as we are rising to leave there is the glimmer of the blue-bird's
wing and the brilliant fellow and his pretty mate appear at the top of
the bank, where the staghorn sumac still bears its berries. None of the
birds of the winter seems to care much for these berries but the
bluebirds evidently love them. As another instance of their tastes in
this direction may be mentioned the fact that for the past three weeks a
pair of blue birds have made many visits every day to a Chinese matrimony
vine, by the dining room window of the writer's home. This vine, as
everyone knows, has a wreath of juicy red berries in the fall, which hang
through the winter and are dried, but still red, in the spring. It was
the first week of March when the family first heard the pleasing notes of
the blue bird outside the window at breakfast time, and saw the
brilliant male sitting on a post on the back lawn and his less
brilliant, but equally attractive mate sitting on the clothesline. A
little later and he flew to the vine, picked off one berry and ate it,
took an