AN AUNT JANE STORY, 



BIRD SONG. 



"Auntie, is it really true that about 

 half of our birds do not sing?" Alice en- 

 quired, as she closed a beautifully illus- 

 trated bird book which was one of her 

 most highly prized Christmas gifts. 



"No doubt the statement is correct, 

 though at first thought it may not seem 

 so, as the name bird suggests the idea of 

 songs, but remember, water birds, birds 

 of prey and the gallinaceous tribes do 

 not sing," Aunt Jane replied. 



"But they all have voices," said John, 

 "the eagle screams, the owl hoots, the 

 crow caws." 



"Do any of the birds except the par- 

 rot kind talk?" enquired Madge. 



"Of the birds that flute, whistle and 

 sing, many use colloquial expressions. 

 Some of the birds most noted for ex- 

 quisite vocalization have an expressive 

 language which may not be translated 

 into the human tongue. Whatever it 

 may mean to them it is, however, 

 shrouded in mystery to us." 



"Many of them tell us their names," 

 said John. "The whip-poor-will, cuckoo, 

 bob-white, jay, kildeer and others." 



"Yes, the jay does more than simply 

 call his name," exclaimed Howard. 

 "I've heard him cry 'thief,' 'wake up,' 

 'come out,' as well as 'pluphay.' " 



''Some of the bird'songs may be sylla- 

 bified to the satisfaction of the listener," 

 said Aunt Jane, "but there will be slight 

 variations of opinion among the hearers. 

 For instance, some say the guinea fowl 

 cries 'come back,' others insist on 'pot- 

 a-rack,' and still others hear only 'buck- 

 wheat' as its call." 



"I think it would be so interesting for 

 us to listen this spring and see how 

 many of us translate the bird songs into 

 the same sentences," said John. 



"Indeed, it would be well for you to 

 try the experiment. I once visited an 

 Indian scliool. and, at tlic conclusion of 



a little talk on birds, I observed that I 

 had heard a bird that morning say 

 'Whip Tom Kelly.' The big black eyes 

 of the pupils looked their disbelief, but 

 the teacher told me afterward that a 

 crowd of them came shouting into the 

 school room the next morning, 'It does 

 say "Whip Tom Kelly," we heard it our- 

 selves.' Before they had only heard its 

 usual cry of 'peto, peto, peto.' " 



"That is just the way with me," said 

 Alice, "I can hear the words distinctly 

 after some one else tells me. You re- 

 member how we all heard the oriole say 

 'Quit this territory' after our teacher 

 called attention to it." 



"Next to identifying a new corner in 

 birddom," said Aunt Jane, "nothing ex- 

 ceeds in interest the attempt to translate 

 into words the various little trills of our 

 merry songsters. The first robin, of the 

 season delights us with the encouraging 

 admonition to 'cheer up, cheer up.' The 

 woodpecker stops his hammer to cry 

 'wish, wish,' while the flicker says 

 'quick, quick' and 'wee-chee, wee-chee,' 

 a sound like the swishing of willow 

 wands or boughs. With us the quail 

 seems to say 'pay thy debts, pay thy 

 debts,' but in Germany it is thought to 

 cry 'pray to God, pray to God.' This 

 reminds me that when I visited the won- 

 derful zoological gardens in Amsterdam 

 I sat down amidst a group of parrots, 

 hoping to have a little chat with them, 

 but to my dismay they all spoke Dutch." 



"That was a good joke on you," cried 

 John, "but I'll tell you the white-throat- 

 ed sparrow is the bird I like to hear 

 when he stops his 'peabody' cry to sav 

 'all dav whittling, whittling, whittling.' 



"Ha! ha!" laughed Howard. "A fel- 

 low feeling makes you wondrous kind; 

 that's exactly what you'd like to be do- 

 ing, I'm sure." 



"I like to sec the dainty wren flirt her 



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