THE SECRETS OF THE MEADOW. 187 



A short-billed marsh wren sang his quaint, 

 nervous, and unmusical little song to us. It 

 seemed to me, never having heard it before, that 

 it was a sound well calculated not to be heard by 

 any ears but those specially attuned to it. A 

 similar thought had occurred to me earlier in the 

 afternoon, when my friend called my attention 

 to what he called the " background music " of 

 the crickets, audible probably that day for the 

 first time this year. They are sounds which go 

 to form the great undertone of the day, and the 

 ear is usually too busy with more distinctly sep- 

 arated and louder sounds to take note of them. 

 Let, however, the rest of the world's noises 

 cease, or the listener become feverish and over 

 sensitive to sound, and this " background music " 

 surges into the brain like an incoming tide and 

 thrills every nerve with its rapid rhythm. 



A sound which even a deaf man could not 

 have ignored that evening was the persistent 

 quacking, or rather quaarking, of a female black 

 duck, who was exploring a small ditch between 

 us and the bittern. Her mate was near by, 

 although comparatively silent, and I hope for 

 his sake that her voice was more musical in his 

 ears than in ours. After going the length of 

 the ditch the ducks flew, the female quaarking 

 while in the air. In about ten minutes they 

 returned, the female's voice still vigorous, and 

 plumped down into a pool near by. 



