" I soon spied him on the 

 wires of a telegraph-pole." 



across a fifty-acre field. His voice is " harsh 

 and discordant" when sounded into one's very 

 ears. The sweetest-toned organ would be dis- 

 cordant to one inside the instrument. Give the 

 bird the room he demands, wide, early-morn- 

 ing fields, and listen. A single shout, almost 

 human it seems, wild, weird, and penetrating, 

 yet clear and smooth as the blast of a bugle. 

 One can never forget it, nor resist it ; for it 

 thrills like a resurrection call the last, long 

 summons to the spring waking. This solitary 

 note is often repeated, but is never so rapid 

 nor so long drawn out as the call of the flicker. 



[88] 



