LEAF AND TENDRIL 



nod; the motionless stalks have a reflective, medita- 

 tive air. A little while ago, when their heads were 

 empty or filled only with chafiE and sap, how straight 

 up they held them! Now that the grain is forming, 

 they have a sober, thoughtful look. It is one of the 

 most pleasing spectacles of June, a field of rye 

 gently shaken by the wind. How the breezes are 

 defined upon its surface — a surface as sensitive 

 as that of water; how they trip along, little breezes 

 and big breezes together! Just as this glaucous 

 green surface of the rye-field bends beneath the light 

 tread of the winds, so, we are told, the crust of the 

 earth itself bends beneath the giant strides of the 

 great atmospheric waves. 



There is one bird I seldom hear till June, and that 

 is the cuckoo. Sometimes the last days of May 

 bring him, but oftener it is June before I hear his 

 note. The cuckoo is the true recluse among our 

 birds. I doubt if there is any joy in his soul. " Rain- 

 crow," he is called in some parts of the country. 

 His call is supposed to bode rain. Why do other 

 birds, the robin for instance, often make war upon 

 the cuckoo, chasing it from the vicinity of their 

 nests? There seems to be something about the 

 cuckoo that makes its position among the birds 

 rather anomalous. Is it at times a parasitical bird, 

 dropping its eggs into other birds' nests? Or is 

 there some suggestion of the hawk about our species 

 as well as about the European ? I do not know. I 

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