Birds and Their Songs 



By Elizabeth and Joseph Grinnell 



Some barbarous peoples possess a rude taste for the beautiful plumage of 

 birds, decorating- their bodies in feathers of softest and brightest tints. But we 

 have record of few, if any, savage tribes the world over which delight in bird 

 melody. True, the savage may seek his food by sound, or even song, but to 

 feast the ear on music for music's sake — ah, this is reserved for culture. 



An ear cultivated to melody is one of the soul's luxuries. Attuned to sweet 

 and varied sound, it may become the guide to bird secrets never imparted to 

 the eye. 



Sitting in the close shrubbery of a home garden, or crouching moveless in 

 a forest, one may catch whispers of bird language never imparted to human ears 

 when the listener is moving about or talking with a comrade. 



If one has accidentally or by patience discovered the evening resort of shy 

 birds, let him precede the birds by half an hour. Sitting low among* rocks or 

 fallen trees, having the forethought to wear plainly colored clothes, and as move- 

 less as the neighboring objects, one may be treated to such a feast of sounds as 

 will both surprise and entertain him. The birds will come close, and even hop 

 over one's coat sleeves and shoes, though so much as a full-fledged wink may 

 dissipate the charm. 



Just before bedtime there are whisperings, and salutes, and low-voiced con- 

 versations, and love notes, and "O's" and "Ah's" at sight of a belated insect, 

 and lullaby ditties, and if one be possessed of a good deal of imagination, "evening 

 prayers." 



Birds that fly from their night-time perches in the thicic shrubbery in the 

 morning dusk with a whirr, and a scream, or emphatic call-note, in evening time 

 just whisper or sing in half-articulate tones. 



To be out in their haunts late in the day and very early in the dawn is to 

 learn things about birds one never forgets. And if one chance to remain late at 

 night, one may often hear some feathered person mumble, or talk, or scold, or 

 complain, or sing a short melody in his sleep. Some students of bird lore sug- 

 gest that all-night singers, like the mockers, and some thrushes, do "talk in their 

 sleep," instead of from intent and choice. If one will watch a tame canary in 

 its cage one may hear a very low, sweet warble from the bird while its head 

 is tucked under its feathers. This act wakens the little creature, and it may be 

 seen to finish its note while it looks about in the lamplight in a half-bewildered 

 way. 



Take our domestic fowls ! Go noiselessly out to the chicken roost and stand 

 stock-still for a while. Now and then some hen or cock will speak a few words 

 in its own language, in a rambling, dozing way. Then the suggestion passes on, 



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