156 IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA 



the beach; and so, coining to birds, the piercing 

 tones of the sand piper, and wail of the curlew; 

 the cries of passing migrants ; the cawing of rooks 

 in the elms, and hooting of owls, and the startling 

 scream of the jay in the wood, give us pleasure, 

 scarcely less than that produced by the set song 

 of any melodist. There is a charm in the infinite 

 variety of bird sounds heard in the forests and 

 marshes of southern South America, where birds 

 are perhaps most abundant, exceeding that of 

 many monotonously melodious voices ; the listener 

 would not willingly lose any of the indescribable 

 sounds emitted by the smaller species, nor the 

 screams and human-like calls, or solemn deep 

 boomings and drummings of the larger kinds, or 

 even the piercing shrieks which may be heard 

 miles away. Those tremendous voices, that never 

 break the quiet and almost silence of an English 

 woodland, affect us like the sight of mountains, 

 and torrents, and the sound of thunder and of 

 billows breaking on the shore; we are amazed at 

 the boundless energy and overflowing joy of wild 

 bird life. The bird-language of an English wood 

 or orchard, made up in most part of melodious 

 tones, may be compared to a band composed en- 

 tirely of small wind instruments with a limited 

 range of sound, and which produces no storms of 

 noise, eccentric flights, and violent contrasts, nor 

 anything to startle the listener a sweet but some- 

 what tame performance. The South American 

 forest has more the character of an orchestra, in 



