BOG BOGLES 



curious sounds came floating at intervals, 

 sounds which often I had difficulty in 

 getting any known creature to go bail for. 

 I do not mean the ordinary bird voices, 

 though the air was full of these. It seems 

 as if all the small migrants made this a 

 port of call or a refuge, and paid for their 

 safety with music. Warblers trilled their 

 varied notes from the cedars or the thicket 

 of cassandra shrubs, some coming boldly 

 near, others giving sign of their presence 

 only by the glint of a wing or the shak- 

 ing of a twig, others still invisible but 

 vocal. 



Thrush and catbird, song sparrow and 

 chipping sparrow, chickadee and creeper, 

 all helped to fill the air with sound, but it 

 was not to these I listened. It was rather 

 to obscure whinings and grumblings out 

 of the deep heart of the bog, goblin talk 



very likely that seemed to grow louder and 

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