XIII 



THE SORA RAIL 



KA-WEET-EEP, Ka-weet-eep-eep-eep-eep-eep, Cheep- 

 cheep-cheep-cheep. I had slipped down through the 

 woods and underbrush to a small pond and was sitting half 

 concealed on a log, listening to the night voices and watch- 

 ing the fish leap out of the water here and there as they 

 sprang for the flies that were bobbing back and forth 

 over the surface of the pond. The twilight was just begin- 

 ning to gather. The wail of the whippoorwill came from 

 a rail fence a few rods away, from the tree above a screech 

 owl called to his mate, while the bull frogs mingled their 

 heavy bass with the treble of the tree toads and the strident 

 call of the katydid and of the green grasshopper. From 

 up the river came the "whoo-whoo" of a great owl, while 

 in the pasture beyond a killdeer was protesting excitedly 

 because the cows were feeding toward the special preserve 

 he claimed as his own. 



No music is so restful to tired nerves and so soothing to 

 troubled spirits after the toil and worry of a hard day 

 than this song of the wildlings, God's chorus of the great 

 outdoors. To one who has learned to seek and love it 

 there is no enjoyment more keen and nothing that will 

 revive courage and give new health and hope so effectively 

 as to slip off alone into such a nook as this and spend the 

 eventide. You may talk of the lure of the great white 



88 



