sril'KOITERUS VOLUCEI.I.A. 199 



nights of summer and early autumn cannot but mark the myriads 

 of sounds that betoken the presence and activity of animal life. 

 The faint rustling' of leaves, the pattering of light footsteps on the 

 ground, the constant dropping of something from the trees, the 

 springing back of a branch relieved from the weight of some animal, 

 the sharp squeaking of unseen creatures, the lonesome note of a 

 wakeful bird, the occasional low grating of teeth overhead, the 

 bustle and chipper of something chasing something else up the 

 trunk of a neighboring tree, the cry of distress as some bird or 

 beast of prey seizes its unhappy victim ; these and numberless 

 other noises, mostly vague and indescribable, fill the air and bear 

 evidence to the profusion of life. And yet the very multiplicity of 

 sounds is confusing, and prevents the perception of those that are 

 distinctive. To the ear accustomed to the whisperings of Nature 

 many of these noises are recognized as easily as the voices of 

 familiar friends. The shrew, the mouse, the bat, the chickaree, 

 and the Flying Squirrel are almost sure to be present, and the 

 latter is generally responsible for no small share of the perplexing 

 sounds. His activity is intense, his sailing leaps frequent, his 

 gambolings almost ceaseless, his sly chuckle and saucy scold are 

 occasionally heard, and his dropping of beechnut shucks is some- 

 times well nigh continuous. 



Audubon and Bachman narrate an interesting experience that 

 no other naturalists seem to have been fortunate enough to witness. 

 They say : " We recollect a locality not many miles from Philadel- 

 phia, where, in order to study the habits of this interesting species, 

 we occasionally strayed into a meadow containing here and there 

 immense oak and beech trees. One afternoon we took our seat 

 on a log in the vicinity to watch their lively motions. It was 

 during the calm warm weather peculiar to the beginning of autumn. 

 During the half hour before sunset nature seemed to be in a state 

 of silence and repose. The birds had retired to the shelter of the 

 forest. The night-hawk had already commenced its low evening 



