138 THE HUMAN SIDE OF TREES 



confused rustling of leaves often prevents in the 

 summertime. 



It is perfectly possible to recognise a tree by its 

 musical notes, though varying factors make a large 

 amount of practice and ear-training necessary. The 

 tone of a tree depends on its size, height and loca- 

 tion, that is, whether it is acting as a soloist or as 

 a unit in a vast orchestra. For all that, sounds pro- 

 duced by different varieties under ordinary condi- 

 tions are strikingly dissimilar. One would never 

 mistake the murmuring of the pine for the dismal 

 howling of the catalpa, nor the whinnying of the 

 sassafras for the hissing of the osage orange. 



Men and women who cannot sing, or play upon 

 some stringed instrument, are very apt to seek the 

 services of those who can. It is not stretching the 

 comparison too much to say that the trees do the 

 same thing. So fond are they of bird and insect 

 music that they often entertain and protect their 

 winged songsters even when their own musical abili- 

 ties are not undeveloped. Instead of the choirs 

 of human cities, the cottonwoods of the tree cities 

 house and shelter hundreds of song birds. Instead 

 of piano-players, the elms employ tree frogs. With 

 the ash, katydids and crickets take the place of 

 stringed quartets. 



Besides the sylvan musicians who actually make 



