BIRD NOTES. >j l 



There are few happier, more unmistakable, transcripts from 

 bird notes than in that line of Emerson's: 



"The redwing flutes his 'O ka lee.'" 



In this brief transcript have we not an epitome of the sentinel- 

 starling, scarlet epaulets, sable uniform, precious magazine of spot- 

 ted eggs and all ? In the " Conk-a-ree " so often found among 

 the pages of Thoreau's spring notes we have an equally felicitous 

 reminiscence of this tenant of the bog. Such is the challenge 

 that comes to you across the spatter-docks, the tussocks, and the 

 alders almost any day in May. With either key you will find 

 your bird ; and yet I am satisfied from dearly bought experience 

 that a closer intimacy with the source of the sound reveals a cer- 

 tain subtle, soggy, boggy regurgitation which is missed in both of 

 them echoes caught from a safe distance. There is more of the 

 gurgle and the wet ooze in it "Gl-oogl-eee" is the distinct, un- 

 colored utterance with which patience in a sheltered, knee-deep 

 mud-hole will reward you after the "quit, quit" has subsided 

 among the cat-tails and the willows. 



W T ho could not name the Maryland yellow-throat from the 

 challenge caught by Burroughs as he loitered in the bushy retreat 

 of the bird "Which way, sir? which way, sir? which way, sir?" 

 or his " Teacher, teacher, teacher, teacher " of the woods, known 

 else as the oven-bird ; or his bluebird, whose warble he calls " the 

 violet of sound," and which says "Purity, purity" to him and ever- 

 more to us all? But, alas! how are our senses attuned to our 

 moods ! or is this " drearily, drearily " among the flying leaves of 

 November in truth the same song which we heard in April ? 



Among these incessant spring roundels you certainly have not 

 failed to note that occasional piercing shaft of song which seems 

 to cleave the air straight from the hill-side meadow beyond " I 

 see; I see you." Who needs to prowl among fence-rails to dis- 

 cover that black crescent breast and tapering bill of the meadow- 

 lark, the young sportsman's tempting target, and the playful 

 "cache, cache" of the little French folk of our Acadian country? 



