MINOR SONGSTERS. 183 
red-winged blackbird, indeed, has some really 
praiseworthy notes ; and to me—for personal 
reasons quite aside from any question about its 
lyrical value — his rough ecucurree is one of the 
very pleasantest of sounds. For that matter, 
however, there is no one of our birds — be he, 
in technical language, “ oscine ” or “ non-oscine ”’ 
— whose voice is not, in its own way, agreeable. 
Except a few uncommonly superstitious people, 
who does not enjoy the whip-poor-will’s trisyl- 
labic exhortation, and the yak of the night- 
hawk? Bob White’s weather predictions, also, 
have a wild charm all their own, albeit his 
persistent Vo more wet is often sadly out of ac- 
cord with the farmer’s hopes. We have no more 
untuneful bird, surely, than the cow bunting ; 
yet even the serenades of this shameless polyg- 
amist have one merit, — they are at least amus- 
ing. With what infinite labor he brings forth his 
forlorn, broken-winded whistle, while his tail 
twitches convulsively, as if tail and larynx were 
worked by the same spring ! 
The judging, comparing spirit, the conscien- 
tious dread of being ignorantly happy when a 
broader culture would enable us to be intelli- 
gently miserable, — this has its place, unques- 
tionably, in concert halls ; but if we are to make 
the best use of out-door minstrelsy, we must 
learn to take things as we find them, throwing 
