Music of the Wild 



The low, open meadow covered closely with 



cropped velvet grass, "green pastures," where full- 



The Creek fed cattle lie in deep shade. Xowhere in its course 



to the river does the Limberlost "preen" and sing 

 exultingly as when crossing this meadow. All the 

 water babies travel with it, the kingfisher and the 

 plover follow; the children play along the banks, 

 and if it has any intuition at all, surely the creek 

 can see gratitude in the eyes of the inhabitants of 

 the meadow as they thrust their muzzles in the 

 depths or stand cooling under trees. If the Lim- 

 berlost loves admiration, here it receives a full 

 share. The banks are covered with enough trees 

 and bushes to make almost continuous shade for 

 the waters, and a thing of beauty it goes laughing 

 on the way to the Wabash. In fact it is so close 

 the river here that big fish come adventuring and 

 to spawn, and their splash is part of the music 

 that the family living on the banks hears daily. 

 Mr. SchafFer says that he can stand on his back 

 porch, bait a fish, turn, and drop it into the fry- 

 ing-pan. This really could be done, but much as 

 I have trespassed there I never have seen the fish 

 on their way anywhere except to the river. 



Aside from the song of the creek and the birds 

 that follow, there comes an occasional wild duck, 

 sometimes a loon lost in migration or slightly 

 wounded by a hunter, and every spring and fall 

 migrating wild geese pay a visit and add strange 

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