all the world may hear him. Soon he and the downy will begin their amorous drumming on dry stubs and flakes of resonant bark.
This was early in the morning. Since then I have been over to the cattle pasture, and in it found a flock of ten or twelve robins. They were feeding in the grass, but at my approach flew into some savin trees and fell to eating berries. As seems to be always true at this time of the year, they were in splendid color, and apparently in the very pink of physical condition; their bills were never so golden, it seemed to me, nor their heads so velvety black, nor their eyelids so white. They would not sing, but it was like the best of music to hear them cackle softly as they flew from the grass into the cedars. Say what you will, the robin is a pretty fine bird, especially in March.
