There is a natural bond of affinity between those who have gone to the fields in March to hear the tinkle of the Horned Larks on the frozen ground; or in the hope of seeing a meadowlark in the snowy stubble; or a group of early bluebirds on fence or wire. There is a deep understanding among those who have heard the mystical nuptial flight song of the woodcock at an April dusk; who have been surprised by the babbling rapture of the ruby-crown's mating song in the budding woods of early May; who have listened with moist eyes to the robins singing in the rain, with its nostalgic memories of childhood; or who have waited in a reverent and breathless silence, while the Wood Thrush chimed his bells in a June twilight.