BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 



his dignity also claims our attention. Who ever saw one 

 of his tribe do anything foolish or unbecoming to the funeral 

 director he has ever been since the birth of time, and that he 

 must ever be whUe time endures? The ancients believed him 

 to be able to scent a fimeral several days before death oc- 

 curred, so sensitive was he to mortuary influences, and there 

 is little doubt he still possesses the power to discern approach- 

 ing death in many creatures smaller than himself — and to 

 whom he expects to extend the right of sepulchre. Inside 

 and out he is clothed in deepest black; even his tongue and 

 the inside of his mouth are in mourning. Seeming to think 

 it incmnbent on him to live up to his funereal garb and occu- 

 pation, faithful to his trust, with clerical solemnity he goes 

 about his everyday duties. 



Gazing on them from his watch-tower in the treetops, 

 what does this grave creature think of the gayer birds that 

 dwell in the meadows and groves round about? What thinks 

 he of the clownish bobolink, in motley nuptial livery, pouring 

 out his silly soul in gurgling, rollicking song in his efforts to 

 please a possible mate, then quarreling with both her and 

 his rivals, who, also, have donned cap and bells to win her 

 favor? What of the impretentious home — a mere hollow in 

 the ground — where the care-free pair go to housekeeping? 

 What of the redwings building their nests among the reeds in 

 the midst of the marsh — so low as almost to touch the water? 

 Of the fitful wren, incessantly singing of love to his mate, 

 yet who fails to assist her in nest-building, and who proves 

 but an indifferent provider for his young family? Of the 

 lonely Phcebe, calling in plaintive, mysterious tones to a 

 mate unresponsive to his sorrowful beseechings? Of the 

 robin, who makes of the grove a sanctuary? He doubtless 

 has his opinions concerning every one of them, for he views 



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