Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

fancy Spring which has all at once disappeared. The song of the robin belongs in the same category and sounds lost at this season.

Monday Joe, Jim and I made a trip out to the Dutchman’s - they to fish and shoot frogs - and I to see what I could see. I saw a plenty and the trip did much towards renovating my mind and preparing it for the wonderful sights which I am to see in the next few months.

The treat was so new to me that few things stand out clearly. One thing that clung to me was the sight of two rose-breasted gros-beaks, which are becoming a rarity in this territory. The song of the first one lead me to try to secure a view of him. A tortur­ous route thru the swampy land edging the creek brought me under the tree, whence came his oft-repeated notes. The song of a bird, however close we may be, is always elusive, and it was sometime before I could find this one. I was a-