88 Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



such are pleased, not pestered, when a wild bird 

 sings. Everything, I take it, depends upon the 

 surroundings. In an aviary, for instance, the 

 same mingled bird-songs would not be attractive. 

 The medley in a bird-store, canaries and parrots, 

 is never musical, but who unaffectedly objects to 

 the mingled voices of a dozen birds in their own 

 home ? Even the crow's cawing blends with the 

 thrush's song, and we have not mere discord, 

 the rambler has not, at least, but mingled wild- 

 ness and melody ; the rugged and the tender ; 

 activity and contemplation. The truth is, if we 

 find such harsh sounds as that of the crow and 

 qua-bird and the fretful w hough of the green 

 heron a source of annoyance, then we lack that 

 trace of the savage in our nature that is like the 

 pinch of salt that makes the dish of meat pala- 

 table. There is something that amuses me and 

 really calls for pity when I see a man or 

 woman ecstatic over the warbling of a rose- 

 breast and given to scolding if a blue-jay 

 screams. I have known my visitors to shrug 

 their shoulders when, in the course of a ramble, 

 we stopped at the flood-gates, and instead of 

 songs of thrushes, heard the rattle of the king- 



