Music of the Wild 



them in their coats of living green. Somber and 

 almost deserted the marsh lies, while above it 

 toM r ers the woodpecker's drum, a monument to 

 loneliness. 



Then comes Jack Frost, waving his magician's 

 wand and transforming the gray old marsh to a 

 scene of splendor. Xot a tree, bush or log does 

 he miss w r hen he spreads his white robe and scat- 

 ters his jewels; and his lace-webbed work on fine 

 vines and weeds is most beautiful of all. Betimes 

 a cardinal flashes like a tongue of flame across the 

 white sheen, powdering his gay plumage with crys- 

 tals as he searches for seeds or rocks on a twig and 

 sings to the world of "Good cheer!" Again, a 

 song sparrow bravely pipes in the face of ice and 

 snow, a falcon cries or a hawk screams. Small 

 gray titmice chatter socially as they search for 

 seed, and crows, appearing their biggest and black- 

 est in this white setting, keep watchful eyes for 

 the sleeping quarters of all smaller birds. 



From hollow trees the squirrels loudly bark. 

 There are long irregular trails across the snow 

 where the furred people go hunting, and down to 

 the water to drink, and trampled places where the 

 cotton-tails dance in the moonlight. And always, 

 with darkness, from big hollow sycamores slip the 

 only feathered singers of winter nights the owls 

 with faces to fear, soundless wings, and dread- 

 ful claws, to prey on other musicians. 

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