76 THE WITCHING WREN. ' 



speak of rougher winds that fill the dim aisles 

 with a roar like Niagara. There are the falling 

 of dead twigs, the rustle of leaves under the 

 footsteps of some small shy creature in fur, the 

 dropping of nuts, and the tapping of woodpeck- 

 ers. There are the voices of the wood-dwellers, 

 — not songs alone, but calls and utterances of 

 many kinds from birds ; cries and scolding of 

 squirrels, who have a repertoire astonishing to 

 those who do not know them ; squawks and 

 squeals of little animals more often heard than 

 seen ; and, not least, the battle-cries of the 

 winged hosts " who come with songs to greet 

 you " wherever and whenever you may appear. 



Moreover, the moment one of the human race 

 is quiet, — such is our reputation for unrest, — 

 the birds grow suspicious, and take pains to 

 announce to all whom it may concern that here 

 is an interloper in nature. Even if there be 

 present no robin, — vociferous guardian of the 

 peace, — a meek and gentle flicker mounts the 

 highest tree and cries " pe-auk ! pe-auk ! " as 

 loud as he can shout, a squirrel on one side 

 shrieks at the top of his voice, veeries call anx- 

 iously here and there, while a vireo warbles con- 

 tinuously overhead, and a redstart " trills his 

 twittering horn." 



When the wren song began, quite near this 

 time, everything else was forgotten, and after a 



