Music of the Wild 



a boat drift by close enough to photograph them. 

 The coming of a storm develops their true plover 

 Children nature. Then they are a sight to see, and rare 

 of the Wild music to hear. Skimming along close to the sur- 

 face of the water, darting through reeds and 

 rushes, wheeling, dipping, alert, full of life and 

 grace, they become for the time different birds 

 from their dry weather selves. They seem exalted, 

 glorying in the tumult of the elements, and as they 

 sail with the storm or wheel and beat against the 

 face of it, O, what music! Clear, sweet, pure of 

 tone, scarce a note in the marsh can surpass it. 



Good hunting to his liking adds the rattle of 

 the kingfisher to the marsh chorus early in May. 

 His coat is as vivid a spot in air as the sweet flag 

 and water hyacinth below him. Among these som- 

 ber-robed marsh musicians his bright color is a de- 

 light to the eye; his rollicking call a series of jolly 

 notes good to hear. They may not embody so 

 much melody, but there is nothing sneaking about 

 them. They give fair notice of his coming and in- 

 tentions. 



Does the word "sneak" call to mind the crow? 

 He belongs to the marsh choir he is a part of 

 its daily life, his notes come with greater frequency 

 and intrusion than those of any other bird. He 

 is constantly slipping everywhere and peering 

 into nests, to the sorrow of many smaller musi- 

 cians; for he is dangerous near eggs and young. 

 366 



