The Chorus of the Forest 



great chorus of praise concerning the work of these 

 small creatures of silent wing. 



If I had a lifetime to live in the forest, inex- 

 haustible plates, indestructible cameras, wells of 

 ink, and pens of magic, I am sure that for each 

 day yes, every hour I could find some interest- 

 ing thing to picture and describe. But the de- 

 mands of life will not allow this, and the forest 

 ends all too soon in these days. You can locate 

 the line where mere woods begin by robin talk. 



Here you find despoiled forest. It is easy to 

 work, because in taking out valuable trees for com- 

 merce men have cut roads that can be followed even Where 

 in quite wild places. Often manv trees have been The 



Woods 



felled, and the strong light shining in has started Begin 

 grasses growing. Men see in these open places 

 tender, luxuriant pasture for stock, so when sal- 

 able timber is taken out the next step is to kill 

 all the shrubs and vines possible, burn the brush, 

 and make grazing grounds. Of course the cleared 

 fields come next, and as they march with inexorable 

 force, they push back the woods farther and yet 

 farther. 



I find that most of the trees are of little or 

 no commercial value. They remain because they 

 are of twisted growth, bent, soft wood, hollow, nut 

 bearers, or too small to be felled with profit. So 

 the woods belong to pasturing stock, birds, ani- 

 mals, and children. The lure of the unknown in 

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