Music of the Wild 



the heart? Does it stir the imagination and force 

 expression to the lips? If so, it is past monetary 

 value. 



We are not dealing with model farms, and so 



in the beginning the upturned earth of my oat field 



Moon- is beautiful, because at the heels of the plowman 



seed on f o u ow larks, blackbirds, bluebirds, and robins pick- 

 si Snake . '. . v 

 Fence m g grubs; and the warm spring air is vibrant with 



their notes. The field is enclosed by a straggling 

 old snake- fence overgrown with carrion vine and 

 moonseed; the corners filled with alder, wild rose, 

 milkweed, saffron, and wild mustard, and inter- 

 laced with dodder in myriads of fine gold threads. 

 There are big forest trees all around it, making a 

 hedge reaching heavenward. Every insect and 

 bird of the field homes there, and the river sing- 

 ing along on one side adds not only its voice, but 

 the notes of kingfisher, killdeer, sheilpoke, and 

 sandpiper. 



From a few inches in height the growing oats 

 show a rare blue-green color with frosty lights, 

 seen in no other grain. When the lacy heads are 

 almost matured, and nodding "Good-day" to the 

 level rays of the setting sun, and bowing "Good- 

 evening" to the white lights of the rising moon; 

 when one at a time thousands of fireflies rise from 

 earth, light their lanterns, and begin the business 

 of life; when numberless insects play or sing; 

 when the big trees rock softly, cradling sleeping 

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