I 



tinues for a full half hour. No thought 

 of seeking food, hungry as the birds may 

 be after a night's fast. Each robin must 

 partake in the matins. 



What causes this morning chorus, as 

 regular as the rising of the sun? Why 

 do not the birds feed first and then sing ? 

 My theory may be fanciful, but I trust 

 there is a spark of reason in it. At one 

 time the birds did not sing in a great 

 chorus like this in the morning. They 

 fed at once. But one day, in wooing 

 season, an experimental individual start- 

 ed to sing as soon as he awoke. The 

 subdued, religious light of dawn and the 

 absolute stillness formed an effective 

 background for his lay. His beloved, at 

 roost, awaking and hearing the stirring 

 notes, admired them so truly that he won 

 her. Meanwhile the rival mates, specta- 

 tors of this, one after another began to 

 sing to exhibit their ability. But they 

 were too late ; once again the early bird 

 caught the worm. Thus, in time, it be- 

 came a regular custom, when courting, 

 to sing in the morning. In time also, 

 this became a habit, and every morning 

 the matins were sung. All this sounds 

 very fanciful, but who will suggest some- 

 thing better ? 



Which is the earliest songster of the 

 day? I think the robin, undoubtedly. 

 The chipping sparrow has often been 

 denominated the first bird, but I have 

 never heard it before the robin. The 

 following table of a morning chorus in- 

 dicates at what time the given birds en- 

 ter the chorus on a June morning in the 

 Alleghany Mountains, with the point of 

 audience constant: 



3:45-4:00 A. M. — Robin, vesper sparrow, 



field 



sparrow 



ItXl. LKfW. 



4:00-4:10 A. M. — Song sparrow, wood pewee. 

 4:10-4:20 A. M. — ^Chipping- sparrow, towhee, 

 catbird, crow3 



The turning point of the chorus is 

 earlier with the field birds, I believe, 

 than with those of the woods. Perhaps 

 the degree of light has something to do 

 with it, for it is as dark in the woods at 

 4:30 as outside at 4:00 a. m. At any 

 rate, the highest point of the chorus is 

 reached by the field birds at about 4:15, 

 but by the wood birds not until 4 :45 a. m. 



When heat begins to be felt, about 



ten or eleven o'clock, there is a very 

 marked decline. From twelve to four 

 few birds sing frequently. Then there 

 is another marked change, an increase 

 in the number of voices, which attains 

 its climax just before the sun sinks, and 

 dies out rapidly at twilight. 



During the middle of the day, when 

 few birds are singing and each can be 

 heard distinctly, go forth to some field 

 or pasture where the meadowlark is 

 found. Listen to two birds in different 

 parts of the field. One sings a few notes 

 which seem incomplete, leaving the 

 musical sense suspended, until from an- 

 other part of the pasture come the an- 

 swering notes that completely satisfy the 

 ear. It is as fitting and expected as the 

 apodosis after the protasis. Such sing- 

 ing is termed antiphonal, and is common 

 among the birds. The towhee and wood 

 thrush are also notable in this respect. 

 From this it would seem that the birds 

 possess some inherent harmonical sense. 

 Another evidence in favor of this belief 

 is illustrated by Mr. Oldys, who tells of 

 a meadowlark that habitually sang the 

 first four notes of the Carmen toreador 

 song. Other similar instances might be 

 cited, but, in my opinion, these do not go 

 to show that the birds possess our laws 

 of harmony but have distinct laws, and 

 that these resemblances are merely coin- 

 cidental. 



It is interesting to note the places birds 

 frequent in delivering their songs. Har- 

 mony with their surroundings most of- 

 ten decides this. For instance, the 

 meadowlark, when it arrives here in the 

 spring, finds the grass short and light 

 green, where its brown back and yellow 

 breast would be ill-protected. So in 

 spring the meadowlark sings in tree tops 

 like most other brilliant birds. But when 

 the hay is almost high enough to be 

 mown, perfectly concealed in the tall, 

 brown grass, the lark sings in the fields, 

 or on a juttins: fence rail from which he 

 may readily descend into the covert of 

 the dense grass. 



As a rule, we shall find that soberly- 

 plumae^ed birds like the sparrows, sing 

 near the ground, and brightly colored 

 tanagers, indigo buntings, cardinals, ori- 

 oles, and the like are more partial to 



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