THE BIRD INVISIBLE. 



THE CUCKOO. 



Who knows Cuckoo ? Listen ! Koiv-koiv-koiv-koic, you 

 hear it in the apple tree, and koiv-koiv-koiv-koiv off by the 

 brookside, and wp along the fringe of willows kow-koic-kozv 

 just as loud as before. 



The farmer's boy snaps together his jack-knife and sets off 

 in the direction of the sound, grumbling that the old turkey is 

 straying again, and the fox in the swamp will get him as he 

 richly deserves. He never suspects that it is not the turkey 

 at all but a cuckoo leading him off into the wet and oozy 

 thickets. Perhaps he thought she shouted out her name 

 as clearly as the little birds on the Swiss clocks that sing 

 cuck-oo, cuck-oo, with the hours; perhaps he thought that 

 any bird which the poets had praised so highly ought to be 

 able to sing at least a little. This hoarse koiv-koiv-kow is 

 nothing but a noise, and a very harsh one at that; so that 

 it was an apt retort, as well as a witty one, when Shake- 

 speare's heroine declared, — 



" He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, 

 By the bad voice/'' 



That is as good a way as any to recognize Cuckoo. Not only 

 is her voice bad, except when crooning her soft coo-coo-coo, 

 coo-coo, but it is unmistakable, and usually it is the only 

 warning of her presence. She flits and calls and wanders 

 from bush to tree, restless as a ghost and nearly as invisible, 

 but proclaiming her whereabouts by her loud and frequent 

 Q 225 



