CHAPTER XII 



What Birds Say and Sing 



"^1W 'TOW, after the 'flight of ages,' when the birds 

 ^^J had emerged from the state of monstrosity, each 

 X. ^1 raw singer having chanted continuously his in- 

 dividual tonic, there came a time when they must take 

 a long step forward and enter the WT>rld of song. In the 

 vast multitude of feathered creatures there must have 

 been an endless variety of forms and sizes, and a propor- 

 tionate variety in the pitch and quality of their voices. 

 Day to day, year to year, each bird had heard his fellows 

 squall, squawk, screech, or scream their individual tones, till 

 in due time he detected here and there in the tremendous 

 chorus certain tones that had a special affinity for his own. 

 This affinity, strengthened by endless repetitions, at last 

 made an exchange of tones natural and easy. Suppose there 

 were two leading performers the key of one being G, and the 

 key of the other being D, a fifth above G, what could have 

 been more natural than for these two voices to unite, either 

 on D, or G, or both, and to vibrate into one? This accom- 

 plished, the bondage of monotony and chaos was broken 

 forever, and progress assured; the first strain of the marvel- 

 lous harmony of the future was sounded, the song of the 

 birds was begun. One can almost hear those rude, rising 

 geniuses exercising their voices with increased fervor, vi- 

 brating from one to five and five to one of the scale — pushing 

 on up the glad way of liberty and melody. With each 

 vibration from one to five and from five to one, the leading 



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