<h2 id="c13">THE PARULA WARBLER. <br/><span class="small">(<i>Compsothlypis americana.</i>)</span></h2>
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<p class="t0">Hither the busy birds shall flutter,</p>
<p class="t">With the light timber for their nests,</p>
<p class="t0">And, pausing from their labor, utter</p>
<p class="t">The morning sunshine in their breasts.</p>
<p class="lr">—James Russell Lowell.</p>
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<p>The Parula or Blue Yellow-backed
Warbler, as it is sometimes called, is one
of the smallest and daintiest representatives
of the family of wood warblers.
Like the other species of warblers it is
one of the last spring migrants to reach
its Northern summer home. Retiring
and unobtrusive in its habits, it is to be
admired for its “plain and modest beauty.”
Though delicately colored, its plumage
is not nearly so striking as that of
many of the other species of the family.
It enjoys the higher branches of its woodland
retreat, and here it seeks its food.
Graceful in all its motions, it flits from
branch to branch; hanging by its feet,
it peers under the leaves and along the
twigs.</p>
<p>In the summer the Parula is a resident
of Eastern North America, but in the
winter it seeks the warmer climate of
Florida and southward. While migrating
it is well distributed over its range,
and may frequently be seen flying from
shrub to shrub. Like the other warblers
its flights are short and most of the time
it is hidden by the foliage. The longer
flights are by night. The days are spent
in seeking insects, upon which it feeds
almost exclusively. This, the habit of all
the warblers, explains the Parula’s sudden
disappearance from a locality where
it may have been common for a single
day.</p>
<p>Near the end of May it retires to the
swampy woodlands where the gray Spanish
moss hangs pendant from the branches
and shrubs. Here the Parula makes
its nest, a globular or pencil home, usually
in bunches of the festooned moss.
The four or five white eggs are marked
near the larger end with specks of light
brown and lilac. Its song is neither interesting
nor striking, but is peculiarly
in harmony with the voices of spring
and as Mr. Chapman says: “When the
cypresses are enveloped in a haze of
lace-like blossoms and the woods are
fragrant with the delicious odor of yellow
jasmine, the dreamy softness of the
air is voiced by the Parula’s drowsy
song.”</p>
<p>Neltje Blanchan has most charmingly
written about this dainty bird. She says:
“A number of such airy, tiny beauties
flitting about among the blossoms of the
shrubbery on a bright May morning and
swaying on the slenderest branches with
their inimitable grace, is a sight that
the memory should retain into old age.
They seem the very embodiment of life,
joy, beauty, grace; of everything lovely
that birds by any possibility could be.
Apparently they are wafted about the
garden; they fly with no more effort
than a dainty lifting of the wings, as if
to catch the breeze that seems to lift
them as it might a bunch of thistledown.
They go through a great variety of
charming posturings as they hunt for
their food upon the blossoms and tender,
fresh twigs, now creeping like a nuthatch
along the bark and peering into the crevices,
now gracefully swaying and balancing
like a goldfinch upon a slender,
pendant stem. One little sprite pauses in
its hunt for insects to raise its pretty
head and trill a short and wiry song.”</p>
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