The Music of the ^larsh 



stigma. AVhen the bloom petals fall the disk 

 grows rapidly into a large head with the appear- 

 ance of having a lid. This pod is full of seed, that 

 the Indians grind for one of their dainties at wed- 

 ding feasts. These balls of gold, l)efore they are 

 fully open, resemble small fallen suns; and when 

 we reflect that the sun stands for light and warmth, 

 by which we live, j'ellow becomes our most pre- 

 cious color. There is not so much soinid on the yel- 

 low lilies as on the white or blue, but there is a 

 world of busy musicians all around them. 



A tea party of prima donnas Mould not reveal 

 sweeter tones than the incessant vocalizing of a 

 flock of wild ducks. They make entrancing music. The Orig- 

 At one moment come notes of glad content over '""' Q"^'^^ 

 motherhood, sunshine, and feasting; then an en- 

 dearing call as they gather small ones close to 

 them; then a warning lest a ventiu'esonie baljy 

 stray too far; then a word of satisfaction over a 

 very luscious worm, and too often the high alarm 

 cry when the water riffles with a big turtle or musk- 

 rat coming their way. ^^"hen a rival interferes 

 with his love-making, a courting drake sends across 

 the marsh a hair-raising scream, quite unlike that 

 of his domesticated cousin. 



The marsh music of wild geese is almost of the 

 same character, difl^ering from the ducks only in 

 tone and one tribal call. The "Honk! Honk!" 

 of the old gander that leads his wedge-shaped flock 



40.5 



