Part IV—Birds
I. Bird Songs and Colors
The doctor was never quite sure which of his little friends in feathers arrived first in the spring—the bluebird, the song sparrow or the phoebe. Some morning in March, often before the snow was off the ground, he was awakened by a "pewit-pewee!" below his dormer window. There was seven-inch-long, cream-breasted, black-billed phoebe, fluttering about the leafless vines of the porch, singing her friendly greeting of just four notes. But from under the lilac and syringa shrubs he was sure to hear, about the same time, a "tweet, tweet, twittering," for all the world as if some one's pet canary had escaped from its cage. That was Mr. Song Sparrow, gray-brown of back and wings, speckle-breasted, busy and cheerful, stopping every now and then to twitter and trill from some low perch. But the doctor was apt to see the bluebird first, because of its bright color.
Did you ever see a sapphire (saf-fire) in a ring? It is a lovely, deep, sparkling blue stone, like a blue diamond. The blue bird is the sapphire of the air. His wings and tail are tipped with black. His breast is as red as the robin's. He really is a cousin of the robin's. Both belong to the big, musical family of thrushes.
Pretty Mr. Bluebird comes all alone. His sweet solo is something like this: "Here I am; all alone'. Oh-oh-I-oh, pur-i-ty, cher-ish me!" It is the loveliest melody, a little bit sad, until his mate joins him a week or so later. Mrs. Bluebird has the same colors, but they are not so bright. That is the rule in the bird world. Papa wears the gayest coat and sings the finest song. But every bird thinks he has the dearest, prettiest little mate in the world. He greets her with a song of joy. In the doctor's garden, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird always sat close together on a low limb of an apple tree, when they arrived in the spring, and talked things over, oh so tenderly! Then they flitted about the place looking at housekeeping rooms. By and by you must see their little house and babies. They never thought of being afraid, for the doctor's plumy-tailed collie dog—
