82 THE REPORT OF THE - No. 19 



Turning now to the consideration of the notes of animate creatures — 

 what a mournful cry was that of the Loon, or Great Northern Diver, as it 

 passed from one sheet of water to another ! It was a weird sound coming 

 from far overhead in the stillness of the night, and soon to be answered, 

 from near or far, by the cry of the companion bird. 



Sometimes, in the spring or fall, it was very startling to the lonely 

 traveller in the night to hear a — 



•' — rush as of harpy wings go by." 



accompanied by a constant trumpeting of "conk-crmk." Looldng up, he 

 would see a phalanx of dim forms speeding onward as if to charge an ene- 

 my. The sounds came from a flight of wild geese winging their way, to 

 or from, their breeding-ground in the north. 



And these sounds would, perhaps, arouse a fox, who would answer them 

 from the hill-side with his short sharp barl<. 



In those days I often heard the rollicking hearty call of the Great Horn- 

 ed Owl, "Wo-a-ho-a-hoa," shouted from one mountain top, and answered 

 from another by its mate. 



Birds of this fine species were numerous in that neighborhood, and 

 sometimes became so bold as to visit the farm yards. A farmer on open- 

 ing his door early one morning, saw a splendid specimen of the kind blink- 

 ing and looking very wicked, and fastened to a large, white gander that it 

 had killed. In its efforts to fly off with its prey, it had dug its claws deeper 

 and deeper into the flesh, till it was unable to disentangle them; and, as the 

 gander was too heavy for it to lift, the spoiler became a captive. 



A cry less frequently heard, and heard only in the Winter was the 

 dull, heavy "Bttmp-hnmp" of the Snowy Owl, This bird comes south in the 

 cold weather, but breeds in Arctic regions. 



Another sound that I often paused on my way to listen to, was in those 

 days accounted a mystery. Its cause was not known. I will read to you 

 what Gosse, the Canadian Naturalist, said of it: — 



"Listen to the singular sound proceeding from yonder cedar swamp. 

 It is like the measured tinkle of a cow-bell, or regular strokes upon a piece 

 of iron quickly repeated. Now it has ceased. 



"There it is again. I will give you all the information I can get about 

 it; and that is very little. In Spring, that is, during the months of April, 

 May, and the former part of June, we frequently hear, after nightfall, th^ 

 sound you have just heard; from its regularity it is usually thought to re- 

 semble the whetting of a saw, and hence the bird from which it proceeds 

 is called the Saw-whetter. I say 'the bird,' because though I could never 

 find anyone who had seen it, I have little doubt that it is a bird. I have 

 asked Mr. Titian Peale, the venerable Professor Nuttal, and other orni- 

 thologist^ of Philadelphia about it, but can obtain no informotion upon the 

 subject of the author of the sound ; it seems to be — 



■ Vox etpneterea nihil.' 



"Carver, in his amusing travels, mentions it as being heard near Lake 

 Superior, naming it, if I recollect rightly, the Whet-saw. It may pos- 

 sibly be known, but I find nothing of it in Wilson or Bonaparte. Professor 

 Nuttall was acquainted with the note, but told me plainly the bird was un- 

 known. I conjecture it may be some of the herons or bitterns, or, possi- 

 bly, from a passage in Bonaparte's Ornithology, the Evening Grosbeak 

 (Fringilla vespertina). He says of that bird, 'their note is strange and pecu- 

 liar; and it is only at twilight that they are heard crying in a singular 

 strain. This mournful sound, uttered at such an unusual hour, strikes the 

 traveller's ear, but the bird itself is seldom seen.' " 



