282 EDGE OP THE JUNGLE 



most before the tone died away. Swallowing it 

 with considerable difficulty, the harmony was 

 taken up again, a bit throaty for a few notes. 

 Then the pair talked together in the usual tro- 

 gon fashion, and the sudden shadow of a passing 

 vulture, drew forth discordant cat calls, as both 

 birds swooped from sight to avoid the fancied 

 hawk. 



A few minutes later the vocal seal of the jun- 

 gle was uttered by a quadrille bird. When the 

 notes of this wren are heard, I can never imagine 

 open, blazing sunshine, or unobstructed blue sky. 

 Like the call of the wood pewee, the wren's radi- 

 ates coolness and shadowy quiet. "No matter 

 how tropic or breathless the jungle, when the 

 flute-like notes arise they bring a feeling of fresh- 

 ness, they arouse a mental breeze, which cools 

 one's thoughts, and, although there may be no 

 water for miles, yet we can fairly hear the drip 

 of cool drops falling from thick moss to pools be- 

 low. First an octave of two notes of purest sil- 

 ver, then a varying strain of eight or ten notes, 

 so sweet and powerful, so individual and mean- 

 ingful that it might stand for some wonderful 

 motif in a great opera. I shut my eyes, and I 

 was deaf to all other sounds while the wren sang. 



