48 NATURE IN A CITY YARD 



nite variety in unity ! Somewhere, too, 

 in the dawn, a cock called the hour in a 

 trumpet-blast, definitely musical, thus : 



and redeemed himself by that perform- 

 ance; for, of all futilities in nature, the 

 harsh note of the domestic cock is most 

 needless. There is an utter want of mean- 

 ing in his tune. Inanimate things are 

 sometimes more agreeable than he, and 

 are less depraved than philosophers would 

 have us think. I heard from our yard a 

 farm- wagon grating and grinding along 

 a street-car track on a frosty day, and the 

 sound was in thirds and fifths, like two 

 notes of a bugle. 



How would it do, now, to remove the 

 rooster's vocal cords, if he has any, and 

 by dint of stirpiculture supplant the exist- 

 ing species by a crowless race ? Surely, 

 greater wonders than this have been ac- 

 complished without man's help; and I often 

 wonder why the cock, being a low-roost- 

 ing bird, reached easily by prowling foxes 



