2 WOOD NOTES WILD. 



the birds are considered in every other point, when we 

 come to their music, that is, to the very life, the spirit, 

 we must take our choice between silence and error. 

 A modern English writer says, for example, " There is 

 no music in Nature, neither melody nor harmony." 

 What is melody but a succession of simple sounds dif- 

 fering in length and pitch? How then can it be said 

 that bird-songs are not melodies ? And if melodies, 

 that they are not music ? A melody may be of greater 

 or less length. I think we shall find that the little 

 bird-songs are melodies, containing something of all we 

 know of melody, and more too; and this in most ex- 

 quisite forms. 



The writer just quoted observes further that " the cuc- 

 koo, who often sings a true third and sometimes a sharp 

 third or even a fourth, is the nearest approach to music 

 in Nature." I am not sure how it is in England, but 

 with us the cuckoo's skill is slight for so wide a reputa- 

 tion. Of all the songs of our birds, his song has per- 

 haps the least melody. It is as monotonous as it is 

 protracted, hugging the tonic all the way, save an occa- 

 sional drop of a minor second, the smallest interval in 

 our scale. The cuckoo of New England never sings a 

 third of any kind. 



"No music in Nature"! The very mice sing; the 

 toads, too; and the frogs make "music on the waters." 

 The summer grass about our feet is alive with little 

 musicians. 



