78 SYLVAN SECEETS. 



is like a flashing stream of water flowing over 

 stones in the sunHght and flinging ariose bub- 

 bles and tinkling spray in every direction. 

 I have watched birds at their singing under 

 many and widely differing circumstances, 

 and I am sure that they express joyous antic- 

 ipation, present content and pleasant recol- 

 lection, each as the mood moves, and all with 

 equal ease. It is not so plain, however, that 

 the avian nature is fitted to formulate hate, 

 or sorrow, or anger in song, for any unpleas- 

 ant mood seems to take expression in cries 

 altogether unmusical. I have never heard 

 one sweet note by any angry or, in any way, 

 unhappy bird. The avian life is beset with 

 every danger except, probably, that of epi- 

 demic disease, and yet so flexible and elastic 

 is it that the moment any terrible ordeal is 

 past the bird is quite ready for a new and en- 

 ergetic effort in song-singing. 



It may not be out of the way to say, in pa- 

 rentheses, here, that the practice of studying 

 domesticated or semi-domesticated birds, with 

 a view to applying the results to forming a 

 theory of wild-bird life, is by no means a safe 

 one. Domestication deprives birds of their 

 proper food, and tends to shorten their lives 

 and to disintegrate their characters. A mock- 

 ing-bird reared in captivity is verj^ interest- 

 ing, and it may sing loudly and well, but it 

 is not to be compared with the free wild-bird 

 that sings in a Southern grove, with its mate 

 demurely hovering near. Domestication in- 

 duces departure from fixed habit, and in the 

 highly specialized song-bird fixed habit is de- 

 veloped to almost the last degree ; in fact, is 

 not the highest type of bird the completest 

 animal, in point of physical equipoise and fit- 

 ness for indefinite prolongation of individual 



